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Ex  Libris  Gulielrni  Kenneth 
Macrorie;D.D.  Episcopi  Can- 
•onici  Eliensis  qui  migravit 
ab  L  uce  XVI?  Kal.Och  nrvcmv 
anno  LXXV2  oefextis  suoe 


iral    Li' 


ECCLESIASTICAL   BIOGRAPHY ; 


OR, 


LIVES  OF  EMINENT  MEN, 


CONNECTED    WITH    THE 


HISTORY  OF  RELIGION  IN  ENGLAND; 

FROM   THE 

COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  REFORMATION 
TO  THE  REVOLUTION  ; 

SELECTED  AND  ILLUSTRATED  WITH 

NOTES, 

BY 

CHRISTOPHER  WORDSWORTH,  D.D. 

LATE  MASTER  OF  TRINITY  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE, 
AND    RECTOR   OF   BUXTED,   WITH    UCKFIELD,  SUSSEX. 


WITH    MANY   ADDITIONAL  HISTORICAL  AND   BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES. 


IN    FOUR    VOLUMES. 

VOL.  IV. 


LONDON: 
FRANCIS  &  JOHN  EIVINGTON, 

ST.    PAUL'S    CHURCH    YARD,    AND    WATERLOO    PLACE. 

1853. 


LONDON  t 

GILBliUT   AND    UIVINGTON,    PRINTER-*, 
ST.   JOHN'S  SQUARE. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  IV. 


PAGE 

I.  GEORGE  HERBERT Isaac  Walton.  1 

II.  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON Isaac  Walton.  65 

III.  NICHOLAS  FERRAR Dr.  Peckard.  117 

IV.  BISHOP  HALI Himself.  265 

V.  DR.  HENRY  HAMMOND        Bishop  Fell.  327 

VI.  BISHOP  SANDERSON        Isaac  Walton.  409 

VII.  RICHARD  BAXTER Himself.  489 

VIII.  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE Bishop  Burnet.  521 

IX.  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER Bishop  Burnet.  599 

X.  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON Anonymous.  677 

INDEX       727 


We  exhort  all  that  desire  to  be  saved  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
they  decline  from  these  horrid  doctrines  of  the  Papacy,  which  in  their  birth 
are  new,  in  their  growth  are  scandalous,  in  their  proper  consequents  are  infi- 
nitely dangerous  to  their  souls. — But  therefore  it  is  highly  fit  that  they  should 
also  perceive  their  own  advantages,  and  give  God  praise  that  they  are 
removed  from  such  infinite  dangers,  by  the  holy  precepts,  and  holy  faith 
taught  and  commanded  in  the  Church  of  England  and  Ireland ;  in  which  the 
Word  of  God  is  set  before  them  as  a  lantern  to  their  feet,  and  a  light  unto 
their  eyes ;  and  the  Sacraments  are  fully  administered  according  to  Christ's 
institution;  and  Repentance  is  preached  according  to  the  measures  of  the 
Gospel;  and  Faith  in  Christ  is  propounded  according  to  the  rule  of  the 
Apostles,  and  the  measures  of  the  Churches  Apostolical ;  and  Obedience  to 
kings  is  greatly  and  sacredly  urged ;  and  the  authority  and  order  of  Bishops  is 
preserved,  against  the  usurpation  of  the  Pope,  and  the  invasion  of  Schis- 
matics and  Aerians,  new  and  old ;  and  Truth  and  Faith  to  all  men  is  kept 
and  preached  to  be  necessary  and  inviolable ;  and  the  Commandments  are 
expounded  with  just  severity  and  without  scruples;  and  Holiness  of  Life 
is  urged  upon  all  men  as  indispensably  necessary  to  salvation,  and  therefore 
without  any  allowances,  tricks,  and  little  artifices  of  escaping  from  it  by 
easy  and  imperfect  doctrines ;  and  every  thing  is  practised  which  is  useful  to 
the  saving  of  our  souls;  and  Christ's  Merits  and  Satisfaction  are  entirely 
relied  upon  for  the  pardon  of  our  sins  ;  and  the  necessity  of  Good  Works  is 
universally  taught;  and  our  Prayers  are  holy,  unblameable,  edifying,  and 
understood ;  are  according  to  the  measures  of  the  Word  of  God,  and  the 
practice  of  all  Saints. — In  this  Church,  the  children  are  duly  Baptized  ;  and 
the  baptized  in  their  due  time  are  Confirmed ;  and  the  confirmed  are  Com- 
municated; and  Penitents  are  absolved,  and  the  impenitents  punished  and 
discouraged ;  and  Holy  Marriage  in  all  men  is  preferred  before  unclean 
concubinate  in  any ;  and  nothing  is  wanting  that  God  and  his  Church  hath 
made  necessary  to  salvation. 

BISHOP  TAYLOR. 


GEORGE  HERBERT. 


VOL.  IV. 


The  world  o'erlooks  him  in  her  husy  search 

Of  objects  more  illustrious  in  her  view; 

And  occupied  as  earnestly  as  she, 

Though  more  sublimely,  he  o'erlooks  the  world. 

She  scorns  his  pleasures,  for  she  knows  them  not : 

He  seeks  not  her's,  for  he  has  found  them  vain. 

Not  slothful  he,  though  seeming  unemployed, 

And  censured  oft  as  useless. 

Perhaps  the  self-approving  haughty  world 
Receives  advantage  from  his  noiseless  hours 
Of  which  she  little  dreams.     Perhaps  she  owes 
Her  sunshine  and  her  rain,  her  blooming  spring 
And  plenteous  harvests  to  the  prayer  he  makes, 
Thinking  for  her  who  thinks  not  for  herself. 

COWPER. 


INTRODUCTION. 


IN  a  late  retreat  from  the  business  of  this  world,  and  those  many 
little  cares  with  which  I  have  too  often  cumbered  myself,  I  fell 
into  a  contemplation  of  some  of  those  historical  passages  that  are 
recorded  in  sacred  story;  and,  more  particularly,  of  what  had 
passed  betwixt  our  blessed  Saviour,  and  that  wonder  of  women, 
and  sinners,  and  mourners,  saint  Mary  Magdalen.  I  call  her 
saint,  because  I  did  not  then,  nor  do  now  consider  her,  as  when 
she  was  possest  with  seven  devils ;  not  as  when  her  wanton  eyes, 
and  dishevelled  hair,  were  designed  and  managed,  to  charm  and 
insnare  amorous  beholders  :  but,  I  did  then,  and  do  now  consider 
her,  as  after  she  had  exprest  a  visible  and  sacred  sorrow  for  her 
sensualities ;  as,  after  those  eyes  had  wept  such  a  flood  of  peni- 
tential tears  as  did  wash,  and  that  hair  had  wiped,  and  she  most 
passionately  kist  the  feet  of  her  and  our  blessed  Jesus.  And,  I 
do  now  consider,  that  because  she  loved  much,  not  only  much  was 
forgiven  her ;  but  that,  beside  that  blessed  blessing  of  having  her 
sins  pardoned,  and  the  joy  of  knowing  her  happy  condition,  she 
also  had  from  him  a  testimony,  that  her  alabaster  box  of  precious 
ointment  poured  on  his  head  and  feet,  and  that  spikenard,  and 
those  spices  that  were  by  her  dedicated  to  embalm  and  preserve 
his  sacred  body  from  putrefaction,  should  so  far  preserve  her  own 
memory,  that  these  demonstrations  of  her  sanctified  love,  and  of 
her  officious  and  generous  gratitude,  should  be  recorded  and 
mentioned  wheresoever  his  gospel  should  be  read;  intending 
thereby,  that  as  his,  so  her  name  should  also  live  to  succeeding 
generations,  even  till  time  itself  shall  be  no  more. 

Upon  occasion  of  which  fair  example,  I  did  lately  look  back, 
and  not  without  some  content  (at  least  to  myself)  that  I  have 
endeavoured  to  deserve  the  love,  and  preserve  the  memory  of  my 
two  deceased  friends,  Dr.  Donne,  and  sir  Henry  Wotton,  by 

B  2 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

declaring  the  several  employments  and  various  accidents  of  their 
lives :  and,  though  Mr.  George  Herbert  (whose  life  I  now  intend 
to  write)  were  to  me  a  stranger  as  to  his  person,  for  I  have  only 
seen  him ;  yet,  since  he  was,  and  was  worthy  to  be  their  friend, 
and  very  many  of  his  have  been  mine,  I  judge  it  may  not  be 
unacceptable  to  those  that  knew  any  of  them  in  their  lives,  or  do 
now  know  them,  by  mine,  or  their  own  writings,  to  see  this  con- 
junction of  them  after  their  deaths ;  without  which,  many  things 
that  concerned  them,  and  some  things  that  concerned  the  age  in 
which  they  lived,  would  be  less  perfect,  and  lost  to  posterity. 

For  these  reasons  I  have  undertaken  it,  and  if  I  have  prevented 
any  abler  person,  I  beg  pardon  of  him,  and  my  reader. 


GEORGE  HERBERT. 


GEORGE  HERBERT  was  born  the  third  day  of  April,  in  the  year 
of  our  redemption  1593.  The  place  of  his  birth  was  near  to  the 
town  of  Montgomery,  and  in  that  castle  that  did  then  bear  the 
name  of  that  town  and  county.  That  castle  was  then  a  place  of 
state  and  strength,  and  had  been  successively  happy  in  the  family 
of  the  Herberts,  who  had  long  possest  it ;  and,  with  it,  a  plentiful 
estate,  and  hearts  as  liberal  to  their  poor  neighbours.  A  family, 
that  hath  been  blest  with  men  of  remarkable  wisdom,  and  a  wil- 
lingness to  serve  their  country,  and  indeed,  to  do  good  to  all 
mankind ;  for  which  they  are  eminent.  But  alas  !  this  family  did 
in  the  late  rebellion  suffer  extremely  in  their  estates ;  and  the 
heirs  of  that  castle  saw  it  laid  level  with  that  earth  that  was  too 
good  to  bury  those  wretches  that  were  the  cause  of  it. 

The  father  of  our  George  was  Richard  Herbert,  the  son  of 
Edward  Herbert,  knight,  the  son  of  Richard  Herbert,  knight,  the 
son  of  the  famous  sir  Richard  Herbert,  of  Colebrook,  in  the 
county  of  Monmouth,  baronet,  who  was  the  youngest  brother  of 
that  memorable  William  Herbert,  earl  of  Pembroke,  that  lived 
in  the  reign  of  our  king  Edward  the  fourth. 

His  mother  was  Magdalen  Newport,  the  youngest  daughter  of 
sir  Richard,  and  sister  to  sir  Francis  Newport,  of  High  Arkall, 
in  the  county  of  Salop,  knight,  and  grandfather  of  Francis,  lord 
Newport  *,  now  comptroller  of  his  majesty's  houshold.  A  family, 
that  for  their  loyalty,  have  suffered  much  in  their  estates,  and 
seen  the  ruin  of  that  excellent  structure,  where  their  ancestors 
have  long  lived,  and  been  memorable  for  their  hospitality. 

1  Francis,  lord  Newport.']  Afterwards,  in  1675,  created  Viscount  Newport, 
and  in  1694,  earl  of  Bradford:  which  titles,  extinct  in  1762,  were  revived  in 
1815,  in  the  family  of  Bridgman,  connected  with  the  Newports  by  female 
descent. 


6  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

This  mother  of  George  Herbert  (of  whose  person,  and  wisdom 
and  virtue,  I  intend  to  give  a  true  account  in  a  seasonable  place) 
was  the  happy  mother  of  seven  sons,  and  three  daughters,  which 
she  would  often  say,  was  Job's  number,  and  Job's  distribution ; 
and,  as  often  bless  God,  that  they  were  neither  defective  in  their 
shapes,  or  in  their  reason ;  and  very  often  reprove  them  that  did 
not  praise  God  for  so  great  a  blessing.  I  shall  give  the  reader  a 
short  account  of  their  names,  and  not  say  much  of  their  fortunes. 

Edward,  the  eldest,  was  first  made  knight  of  the  bath  at  that 
glorious  time  of  our  late  prince  Henry's  being  installed  knight  of 
the  garter ;  and  after  many  years  useful  travel,  and  the  attain- 
ment of  many  languages,  he  was  by  king  James  sent  ambassador 
resident  to  the  then  French  king,  Lewis  the  thirteenth.  There 
he  continued  about  two  years ;  but,  he  could  not  subject  himself 
to  a  compliance  with  the  humours  of  the  duke  de  Luines,  who 
was  then  the  great  and  powerful  favourite  at  court ;  so  that  upon 
a  complaint  to  our  king,  he  was  called  back  into  England  in  some 
displeasure ;  but  at  his  return  he  gave  such  an  honourable  account 
of  his  employment,  and  so  justified  his  comportment  to  the  duke, 
and  all  the  court,  that  he  was  suddenly  sent  back  upon  the  same 
embassy,  from  which  he  returned  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of 
our  good  king  Charles  the  first,  who  made  him  first  baron  of 
Castle- Island 2,  and  not  long  after 3  of  Cherbury,  in  the  county  of 
Salop.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning  and  reason,  as  appears 
by  his  printed  book  de  veritate ;  and  by  his  History  of  the  Reign 
of  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  by  several  other  tracts. 

The  second  and  third  brothers  were  Richard  and  William,  who 
ventured  their  lives  to  purchase  honour  in  the  wars  of  the  Low 
Countries,  and  died  officers  in  that  employment.  Charles  was 
the  fourth,  and  died  fellow  of  New-college  in  Oxford.  Henry  was 
the  sixth,  who  became  a  menial  servant  to  the  crown  in  the  days 
of  king  James,  and  hath  continued  to  be  so  for  fifty  years: 
during  all  which  time  he  hath  been  master  of  the  revels ;  a  place 
that  requires  a  diligent  wisdom,  with  which  God  hath  blest  him. 
The  seventh  son  was  Thomas,  who  being  made  captain  of  a  ship 
in  that  fleet  with  which  sir  Robert  Mansel  was  sent  against 
Algiers 4,  did  there  shew  a  fortunate  and  true  English  valour.  Of 
the  three  sisters,  I  need  not  say  more,  than  tliat  they  were  all 

3  Baron  of  Castle- Island '.]  In  Ireland.       3  Not  long  after.]  May  7,  1629. 
4  Against  Algiers.']  In  1620. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  7 

married  to  persons  of  worth,  and  plentiful  fortunes ;  and  lived  to 
be  examples  of  virtue,  and  to  do  good  in  their  generations. 

I  now  come  to  give  my  intended  account  of  George,  who  was 
the  fifth  of  those  seven  brothers. 

George  Herbert  spent  much  of  his  childhood  in  a  sweet  content 
under  the  eye  and  care  of  his  prudent  mother,  and  the  tuition  of 
a  chaplain  or  tutor  to  him,  and  two  of  his  brothers,  in  her  own 
family  (for  she  was  then  a  widow)  where  he  continued,  till  about 
the  age  of  twelve  years ;  and  being  at  that  time  well  instructed 
in  the  rules  of  grammar,  he  was  not  long  after  commended  to  the 
care  of  Dr.  Neale,  who  was  then  dean  of  Westminster ;  and  by 
him  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Ireland,  who  was  then  chief  master  of  that 
school ;  where  the  beauties  of  his  pretty  behaviour  and  wit  shined 
and  became  so  eminent  and  lovely  in  this  his  innocent  age,  that 
he  seemed  to  be  marked  out  for  piety,  and  to  become  the  care  of 
heaven,  and  of  a  particular  good  angel  to  guard  and  guide  him. 
And  thus  he  continued  in  that  school,  till  he  came  to  be  perfect 
in  the  learned  languages,  and  especially  in  the  Greek  tongue,  in 
which  he  after  proved  an  excellent  critic. 

About  the  age  of  fifteen  (he  being  then  a  king's  scholar,)  he 
was  elected  out  of  that  school  for  Trinity  college  in  Cambridge,  to 
which  place  he  was  transplanted  about  the  year  1608;  and  his 
prudent  mother  well  knowing,  that  he  might  easily  lose,  or  lessen 
that  virtue  and  innocence  which  her  advice  and  example  had 
planted  in  his  mind,  did  therefore  procure  the  generous  and 
liberal  Dr.  Nevil 5,  who  was  then  dean  of  Canterbury,  and  master 
of  that  college,  to  take  him  into  his  particular  care,  and  pro- 
vide him  a  tutor ;  which  he  did  most  gladly  undertake,  for  he 
knew  the  excellencies  of  his  mother,  and  how  to  value  such  a 
friendship. 

This  was  the  method  of  his  education,  till  he  was  settled  in 
Cambridge ;  where  we  will  leave  him  in  his  study,  till  I  have  paid 
my  promised  account  of  his  excellent  mother ;  and  I  will  endea- 
vour to  make  it  short. 

I  have  told  her  birth,  her  marriage,  and  the  number  of  her 
children,  and  have  given  some  short  account  of  them.  I  shall 
next  tell  the  reader,  that  her  husband  died  when  our  George  was 
about  the  age  of  four  years.  I  am  next  to  tell  that  she  continued 

6  Dr.  Nevil.']  Whose  life  has  been  written  by  the  late  archdeacon  J.  H. 
Todd,  amongst  those  of  the  other  deans  of  Canterbury. 


8  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

twelve  years  a  widow :  that  she  then  married  happily  to  a  noble 
gentleman8,  the  brother  and  heir  of  the  lord  Danvers  earl  of 
Danby,  who  did  highly  value  both  her  person  and  the  most  excel- 
lent endowments  of  her  mind. 

In  this  time  of  her  widowhood,  she  being  desirous  to  give 
Edward  her  eldest  son,  such  advantages  of  learning,  and  other 
education  as  might  suit  his  birth  and  fortune,  and  thereby  make 
him  the  more  fit  for  the  service  of  his  country,  did  at  his  being  of 
a  fit  age,  remove  from  Montgomery  castle  with  him,  and  some  of 
her  younger  sons  to  Oxford7;  and,  having  entered  Edward  into 
Queen's  college,  and  provided  him  a  fit  tutor,  she  commended  him 
to  his  care;  yet,  she  continued  there  with  him,  and  still  kept 
him  in  a  moderate  awe  of  herself;  and  so  much  under  her  own 
eyes,  as  to  see  and  converse  with  him  daily ;  but  she  managed 
this  power  over  him  without  any  such  rigid  sourness,  as  might 
make  her  company  a  torment  to  her  child;  but,  with  such  a 
sweetness  and  compliance  with  the  recreations  and  pleasures  of 
youth,  as  did  incline  him  willingly  to  spend  much  of  his  time  in 

6  A  noble  gentleman."}  Sir  John  Danvers,  who  was  of  very  different  opinions 
from  his  brother,  the  loyal  earl  of  Danby.    He  was  member  for  the  university 
of  Oxford  in  the  last  two  parliaments  of  Charles  I.,  and  when  the  troubles 
began  he  became  an  open  enemy  to  the  king,  taking  a  commission  as  colonel 
in  the  parliamentary  army.     He  sat  as  one  of  the  judges  on  the  trial  of 
Charles  I.,  and  signed  the  warrant  for  his  execution.     Lord  Clarendon  says 
of  him,  "  Between  being  seduced,  and  a  seducer,  he  became  so  far  involved  in 
their  councils,  that  he  suffered  himself  to  be  applied  to  their  worst  offices, 
taking  it  to  be  a  high  honor  to  sit  upon  the  same  bench  with  Cromwell,  who 
employed  and  contemned  him  at  once.    Nor  did  that  party  of  miscreants  look 
upon  any  two  men  in  the  kingdom  with  that  scorn  and  detestation  as  they 
did  upon  Danvers  and  Mildmay."  His  brother,  the  earl  of  Danby,  disinherited 
him,  but  the  parliament  declared  the  will  to  be  void.     He  died  before  the 
Restoration,  but  his  name  was  inserted  in  the  act  excepting  him  from  pardon, 
as  if  living,  by  which  means  his  wealth  was  lost  to  his  heir.     His  excellent 
wife,  whose  influence  might  have  saved  him,  was  buried  at  Chelsea,  June  8, 
1627;  Dr.  Donne  preached  her  funeral  sermon.     Sir  John  Danvers  had  no 
issue  by  her,  but  by  his  second  wife  Elizabeth,  grandchild  and  heir  of  sir 
John  Dauntsey  of  Lavington  in  Wiltshire,  he  had  a  daughter  Elizabeth, 
wife  of  the  notorious  Robert  Villiers,  second  Viscount  Purbeck,  who  professed 
hatred  to  the  name  of  Villiers,  and  took  the  name  of  Danvers.    Their  de- 
scendants claimed  unsuccessfully  the  earldom  of  Buckingham. 

7  To  Oxford.']  "  For  their  education  she  went  and  dwelt  in  the  university, 
to  recompence  the  loss  of  their  father  "  (as  Barnabas  Oley  prettily  expresses 
it)  "  by  giving  them  two  mothers." — Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,  signat.  K  9, 
subjoined  to  his  Country  Parson. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  9 

the  company  of  his  dear  and  careful  mother ;  which  was  to  her 
great  content;  for,  she  would  often  say,  "That  as  our  bodies 
take  a  nourishment  suitable  to  the  meat  on  which  we  feed ;  so, 
our  souls  do  as  insensibly  take  in  vice  by  the  example  or  conver- 
sation with  wicked  company :"  and,  would  therefore,  as  often  say, 
"  That  ignorance  of  vice  was  the  best  preservation  of  virtue  :  and, 
that  the  very  knowledge  of  wickedness  was  as  tinder  to  inflame 
and  kindle  sin,  and  to  keep  it  burning."  For  these  reasons  she 
endeared  him  to  her  own  company ;  and  continued  with  him  in 
Oxford  four  years :  in  which  time,  her  great  and  harmless  wit, 
her  cheerful  gravity,  and  her  obliging  behaviour,  gained  her  an 
acquaintance  and  friendship  with  most  of  any  eminent  worth  and 
learning,  that  were  at  that  time  in  or  near  that  university ;  and 
particularly,  with  Mr.  John  Donne,  who  then  came  accidentally 
to  that  place,  in  this  time  of  her  being  there  :  it  was  that  John 
Donne  who  was  after  doctor  Donne,  and  dean  of  Saint  Pauls, 
London :  and  he  at  his  leaving  Oxford,  writ  and  left  there  in  verse 
a  character  of  the  beauties  of  her  body  and  mind.  Of  the  first, 
he  says, 

"  No  spring  nor  summer-beauty,  has  such  grace 
As  I  have  seen  in  an  autumnal  face." 

Of  the  latter  he  says, 

"  In  all  her  words  to  every  hearer  fit 
You  may  at  revels,  or  at  council  sit." 

The  rest  of  her  character  may  be  read  in  his  printed  poems, 
in  that  elegy  which  bears  the  name  of  the  Autumnal  Beauty. 
For  both  he  and  she  were  then  past  the  meridian  of  man's  life. 

This  amity,  begun  at  this  time,  and  place,  was  not  an  amity 
that  polluted  their  souls ;  but,  an  amity  made  up  of  a  chain  of 
suitable  inclinations  and  virtues  ;  an  amity,  like  that  of  St.  Chry- 
sostonVs  to  his  dear  and  virtuous  Olympias ;  whom,  in  his  letter 
he  calls  his  saint :  or,  an  amity  indeed  more  like  that  of  St. 
Hierom  to  his  Paula ;  whose  affection  to  her  was  such,  that  he 
turned  poet  in  his  old  age,  and  then  made  her  epitaph ;  wishing 
all  his  body  were  turned  into  tongues,  that  he  might  declare  her 

just  praises  to  posterity. And  this  amity  betwixt  her  and  Mr. 

Donne,  was  begun  in  a  happy  time  for  him,  he  being  then  near  to 
the  fortieth  year  of  his  age  (which  was  some  years  before  he 


10  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

entered  into  sacred  orders)  :  a  time,  when  his  necessities  needed 
a  daily  supply  for  the  support  of  his  wife,  seven  children,  and  a 
family  :  and  in  this  time  she  proved  one  of  his  most  bountiful 
benefactors :  and  he,  as  grateful  an  acknowledger  of  it.  You 
may  take  one  testimony  for  what  I  have  said  of  these  two  worthy 
persons,  from  this  following  letter,  and  sonnet. 

u  Madam, 

"  Your  favours  to  me  are  every  where :  I  use  them,  and  have 
them.  I  enjoy  them  at  London,  and  leave  them  there  ;  and  yet, 
find  them  at  Mitcham.  Such  riddles  as  these  become  things 
unexpressible,  and,  such  is  your  goodness.  I  was  almost  sorry  to 
find  your  servant  here  this  day,  because  I  was  loth  to  have  any 
witness  of  my  not  coming  home  last  night,  and  indeed  of  my 
coming  this  morning  :  but,  my  not  coming  was  excusable,  because 
earnest  business  detained  me  ;  and  my  coming  this  day,  is  by  the 
example  of  your  St.  Mary  Magdalen,  who  rose  early  upon  Sun- 
day, to  seek  that  which  she  loved  most ;  and  so  did  I.  And, 
from  her  and  myself,  I  return  such  thanks  as  are  due  to  one  to 
whom  we  owe  all  the  good  opinion,  that  they  whom  we  need  most, 
have  of  us. By  this  messenger,  and  on  this  good  day,  I  com- 
mit the  inclosed  holy  hymns  and  sonnets  (which  for  the  matter, 
not  the  workmanship,  have  yet  escaped  the  fire)  to  your  judg- 
ment, and  to  your  protection  too,  if  you  think  them  worthy  of  it : 
and  I  have  appointed  this  inclosed  sonnet  to  usher  them  to  your 
happy  hand. 

"  Your  unworthiest  servant, 

"  unless,  your  accepting  him  to  be  so, 
"  have  mended  him, 

"Mitcham,  July  11,  1607.  "Jo.  DONNE." 

To  the  Lady  Magdalen  Herbert ;  of  St.  Mary  Magdx!,  i> . 

Her  of  your  name,  whose  fair  inheritance 

Hethina  was,  and  jointure  Magdalo ; 
An  active  faith  so  highly  did  advance, 

That  she  once  knew,  more  than  the  church  did  know, 
The  resurrection ;  so  much  good  there  is 

Deliver'd  of  her,  that  some  fathers  be 
Loth  to  believe  one  woman  could  do  this ; 

But,  think  these  Magdalens  were  two  or  three. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  11 

Increase  their  number,  lady,  and  their  fame  : 

To  their  devotion  and  your  innocence  : 
Take  so  much  of  th'  example,  as  of  the  name ; 

The  latter  half;  and  in  some  recompence 
That  they  did  harbour  Christ  himself,  a  guest, 
Harbour  these  hymns,  to  his  dear  name  addrest. 

J.  D. 

These  hymns  are  now  lost  to  us ;  but,  doubtless,  they  were 
such,  as  they  two  now  sing  in  heaven. 

There  might  be  more  demonstrations  of  the  friendship,  and  the 
many  sacred  endearments  betwixt  these  two  excellent  persons  (for 
I  have  many  of  their  letters  in  my  hand)  and  much  more  might 
be  said  of  her  great  prudence  and  piety  :  but,  my  design  was  not 
to  write  her's,  but  the  life  of  her  son  ;  and  therefore  I  shall  only 
tell  my  reader,  that  about  that  very  day  twenty  years  that  this 
letter  was  dated,  and  sent  her,  I  saw  and  heard  this  Mr.  John 
Donne,  (who  was  then  dean  of  St.  Paul's)  weep,  and  preach  her 
funeral  sermon,  in  the  parish-church  of  Chelsea  near  London, 
where  she  now  rests  in  her  quiet  grave  :  and,  where  we  must  now 
leave  her,  and  return  to  her  son  George,  whom  we  left  in  his 
study  in  Cambridge. 

And  in  Cambridge  we  may  find  our  George  Herbert's  behaviour 
to  be  such,  that  we  may  conclude,  he  consecrated  the  first-fruits 
of  his  early  age  to  virtue,  and  a  serious  study  of  learning.  And 
that  he  did  so,  this  following  letter  and  sonnet  which  were  in  the 
first  year  of  his  going  to  Cambridge  sent  his  dear  mother  for  a 
new-year's  gift,  may  appear  to  be  some  testimony. 

— "  But  I  fear  the  heat  of  my  late  ague  hath  dried  up  those 
springs,  by  which  scholars  say,  the  Muses  use  to  take  up  their 
habitations.  However,  I  need  not  their  help,  to  reprove  the 
vanity  of  those  many  love-poems,  that  are  daily  writ  and  conse- 
crated to  Venus ;  nor  to  bewail  that  so  few  are  writ,  that  look 
towards  God  and  heaven.  For  my  own  part,  my  meaning  (dear 
mother)  is  in  these  sonnets,  to  declare  my  resolution  to  be,  that 
my  poor  abilities  in  poetry,  shall  be  all,  and  ever  consecrated  to 
God's  glory  :  and  I  beg  you  to  receive  this  as  one  testimony." 

My  God,  where  is  that  ancient  heat  towards  thee, 
Wherewith  whole  shoals  of  martyrs  once  did  burn, 

Besides  their  other  flames  ?     Doth  poetry 
Wear  Venus'  livery  ?  only  serve  her  turn  ? 


12  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

Why  are  not  sonnets  made  of  thee  ?  and  lays 

Upon  thine  altar  burnt  ?     Cannot  thy  love 
Heighten  a  spirit  to  sound  out  thy  praise 

As  well  as  any  she  ?     Cannot  thy  dove 
Out-strip  their  Cupid  easily  in  flight  ? 

Or,  since  thy  ways  are  deep,  and  still  the  same, 

Will  not  a  verse  run  smooth  that  bears  thy  name ! 
Why  doth  that  fire,  which  by  thy  power  and  might 

Each  breast  does  feel,  no  braver  fuel  choose 

Than  that,  which  one  day  worms  may  chance  refuse  ? 
Sure,  Lord,  there  is  enough  in  thee  to  dry 

Oceans  of  ink ;  for,  as  the  deluge  did 
Cover  the  earth,  so  doth  thy  majesty : 

Each  cloud  distils  thy  praise,  and  doth  forbid 
Poets  to  turn  it  to  another  use. 

Roses  and  lilies  speak  thee ;  and  to  make 
A  pair  of  cheeks  of  them,  is  thy  abuse. 

Why  should  I  women's  eyes  for  chrystal  take  ? 
Such  poor  invention  burns  in  their  low  mind 

Whose  fire  is  wild,  and  doth  not  upward  go 

To  praise,  and  on  thee,  Lord,  some  ink  bestow. 
Open  the  bones,  and  you  shall  nothing  find 

In  the  best  face  but  filth ;  when,  Lord,  in  thee 

The  beauty  lies,  in  the  discovery. 

G.  H. 

This  was  his  resolution  at  the  sending  this  letter  to  his  dear 
mother  ;  about  which  time,  he  was  in  the  seventeenth  year  of  his 
age  :  and  as  he  grew  older,  so  he  grew  in  learning,  and  more  and 
more  in  favour  both  with  God  and  man  ;  insomuch,  that  in  this 
morning  of  that  short  day  of  his  life,  he  seemed  to  be  marked  out 
for  virtue,  and  to  become  the  care  of  heaven ;  for  God  still  kept 
his  soul  in  so  holy  a  frame,  that  he  may,  and  ought  to  be  a  pattern 
of  virtue  to  all  posterity,  and  especially,  to  his  brethren  of  the 
clergy ;  of  which  the  reader  may  expect  a  more  exact  account  in 
what  will  follow. 

I  need  not  declare  that  he  was  a  strict  student,  because,  that 
he  was  so,  there  will  be  many  testimonies  in  the  future  part  of  liis 
life.  I  shall  therefore  only  tell,  that  he  was  made  batchelor  of 
arts  in  the  year  1611  ;  major  fellow  of  the  college,  March  15, 
1615 ;  and  that,  in  that  year,  he  was  also  made  master  of  arts, 
he  being  then  in  the  22d  year  of  his  age  ;  during  all  which  time. 
all,  or  the  greatest  diversion  from  his  study,  was  the  practice  of 
music,  in  which  he  became  a  great  master ;  and  of  which,  he 
would  say,  "  That  it  did  relieve  his  drooping  spirits,  compose  his 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  13 

distracted  thoughts,  and  raised  his  weary  soul  so  far  above  earth, 
that  it  gave  him  an  earnest  of  the  joys  of  heaven,"  before  he  pos- 
sest  them.  And  it  may  be  noted,  that  from  his  first  entrance 
into  the  college,  the  generous  Dr.  Nevil  was  a  cherisher  of  his 
studies,  and  such  a  lover  of  his  person,  his  behaviour,  and  the 
excellent  endowments  of  his  mind,  that  he  took  him  often  into 
his  own  company  !  by  which  he  confirmed  his  native  gentleness. 
And  if  during  this  time  he  exprest  any  error,  it  was  that  he  kept 
himself  too  much  retired,  and  at  too  great  a  distance  with  all  his 
inferiors  ;  and  his  cloaths  seemed  to  prove  that  he  put  too  great 
a  value  on  his  parts  and  parentage. 

This  may  be  some  account  of  his  disposition,  and  of  the 
employment  of  his  time  till  he  was  master  of  arts,  which  was 
anno  1615,  and  in  the  year  1619  he  was  chosen  orator  for  the 
university.  His  two  precedent  orators  were  sir  Robert  Nanton 
and  sir  Francis  Nethersoll.  The  first  was  not  long  after  made 
secretary  of  state  ;  and  sir  Francis,  not  very  long  after  his  being 
orator,  was  made  secretary  to  the  lady  Elizabeth,  queen  of 
Bohemia.  In  this  place  of  orator  our  George  Herbert  con- 
tinued eight  years,  and  managed  it  with  as  becoming  and  grave  a 
gaiety  as  any  had  ever  before  or  since  his  time.  For  he  had 
acquired  great  learning,  and  was  blest  with  a  high  fancy,  a  civil 
and  sharp  wit,  and  with  a  natural  elegance  both  in  his  behaviour, 
his  tongue,  and  his  pen.  Of  all  which  there  might  be  very  many 
particular  evidences ;  but  I  will  limit  myself  to  the  mention  of 
but  three. 

And  the  first  notable  occasion  of  shewing  his  fitness  for  this 
employment  of  orator  was  manifested  in  a  letter  to  King  James, 
upon  the  occasion  of  his  sending  that  university  his  book,  called 
Basilicon  Doron 8 ;  and  their  orator  was  to  acknowledge  this  great 
honour,  and  return  their  gratitude  to  his  majesty  for  such  a 
condescension  ;  at  the  close  of  which  letter  he  writ, 

"  Quid  Vaticanam  Bodleianamque  objicis  hospes  ! 
Unicus  est  nobis  bibliotheca  liber." 

This  letter  was  writ  in  such  excellent  Latin,  was  so  full  of 
conceits,  and  all  the  expressions  so  suited  to  the  genius  of  the 
king,  that  he  inquired  the  orator's  name,  and  then  asked  William 

8  Basilicon  Doron.']  The  original,  written  in  James's  own  hand,  is  preserved 
amongst  the  royal  manuscripts  in  the  British  Museum. 


14  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

earl  of  Pembroke  if  lie  knew  him  ?  whose  answer  was,  "  That  he 
knew  him  very  well,  and  that  he  was  his  kinsman ;  but  he  loved 
him  more  for  his  learning  and  virtue  than  for  that  he  was  of  his 
name  and  family."  At  which  answer  the  king  smiled,  and  asked 
the  earl  leave  "that  he  might  love  him  too  ;  for  he  took  him  to 
be  the  jewel  of  that  university." 

The  next  occasion  he  had  and  took  to  shew  his  great  abilities 
was,  with  them,  to  shew  also  his  great  affection  to  that  church  in 
which  he  received  his  baptism,  and  of  which  he  profest  himself  a 
member;  and  the  occasion  was  this.  There  was  one  Andrew 
Melvin9,  a  minister  of  the  Scotch  church,  and  rector  of  St. 
AndrewX  who,  by  a  long  and  constant  converse  with  a  discon- 
tented part  of  that  clergy  which  opposed  episcopacy,  became  at 
last  to  be  a  chief  leader  of  that  faction ;  and  had  proudly  ap- 
peared to  be  so  to  king  James,  when  he  was  but  king  of  that 
nation ;  who  the  second  year  after  his  coronation  in  England 
convened  a  part  of  the  bishops  and  other  learned  divines  of  his 
church  to  attend  him  at  Hampton  Court,  in  order  to  a  friendly 
conference  with  some  dissenting  brethren,  both  of  this  and  the 
church  of  Scotland  ;  and  he  being  a  man  of  learning,  and  inclined 
to  satirical  poetry,  had  scattered  many  malicious  bitter  verses 
against  our  liturgy,  our  ceremonies,  and  our  church  government ; 
which  were  by  some  of  that  party  so  magnified  for  the  wit,  that 
they  were  therefore  brought  into  Westminster  school,  where 
Mr.  George  Herbert  then,  and  often  after,  made  such  answers 
to  them,  and  such  reflexion  on  him  and  his  kirk,  as  might 
unbeguile  any  man  that  was  not  too  deeply  pre-engaged  in  such 

a  quarrel. But  to  return  to  Mr.  Melvin  at  Hampton  Court 

conference  :  he  there  appeared  to  be  a  man  of  an  unruly  wit,  of  a 
strange  confidence,  of  so  furious  a  zeal,  and  of  so  ungoverned 
passions,  that  his  insolence  to  the  king  and  others  at  this  con- 
ference lost  him  both  his  rectorship  of  St.  Andrew"^  and  his 
liberty  too  ;  for  his  former  verses,  and  his  present  reproaches 
there  used  against  the  church  and  state,  caused  him  to  be  com- 
mitted prisoner  to  the  Tower  of  London,  where  he  remained 
very  angry  for  three  years.  At  which  time  of  his  commitment 
he  found  the  lady  Arabella  l  an  innocent  prisoner  there  ;  and  he 
pleased  himself  much  in  sending,  the  next  day  after  his  commit- 


9  Melvin.']  Or  Melville,  the  follower  and  successor  of  John  Knox. 
1  The  lady  Arabella.']  Lady  Arabella  Stuart. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  15 

ment,  these  two  verses  to  the  good  lady 2,  which  I  will  under- 
write, because  they  may  give  the  reader  a  taste  of  his  others, 
which  were  like  these 3. 

"  Causa  tibi  mecum  est  communis  carceris,  Ara- 
Bella  tibi  causa  est,  Araque  sacra  mini." 

I  shall  not  trouble  my  reader  with  an  account  of  his  enlarge- 
ment from  that  prison,  or  his  death  ;  but  tell  him,  Mr.  Herbert's 
verses  were  thought  so  worthy  to  be  preserved,  that  Dr.  Duport, 
the  learned  dean  of  Peterborough,  hath  lately  collected,  and 
caused  many  of  them  to  be  printed,  as  an  honourable  memorial 
of  his  friend  Mr.  George  Herbert  and  the  cause  he  undertook. 

And  in  order  to  my  third  and  last  observation  of  his  great 
abilities,  it  will  be  needful  to  declare,  that  about  this  time  king 
James  came  very  often  to  hunt  at  New- Market  and  Royston  ; 
and  was  almost  as  often  invited  to  Cambridge,  where  his  enter- 
tainment was  comedies  suited  to  his  pleasant  humour,  and  where 
Mr.  George  Herbert  was  to  welcome  him  with  gratulations,  and 
the  applauses  of  an  orator ;  which  he  always  performed  so  well 
that  he  still  grew  more  into  the  king's  favour,  insomuch  that  he 
had  a  particular  appointment  to  attend  his  majesty  at  Royston, 
where,  after  a  discourse  with  him,  his  majesty  declared  to  his 
kinsman,  the  earl  of  Pembroke,  "  That  he  found  the  orator's 
learning  and  wisdom  much  above  his  age  or  wit."  The  year 
following,  the  king  appointed  to  end  his  progress  at  Cambridge, 
and  to  stay  there  certain  days ;  at  which  time  he  was  attended 
by  the  great  secretary  of  nature  and  all  learning,  sir  Francis 
Bacon  (lord  Verulam)  and  by  the  ever  memorable  and  learned 
Dr.  Andrews,  bishop  of  Winchester,  both  of  which  did  at  that 
time  begin  a  desired  friendship  with  our  orator.  Upon  whom  the 
first  put  such  a  value  on  his  judgment,  that  he  usually  desired  his 
approbation  before  he  would  expose  any  of  his  books  to  be 

2  To  the  good  lady.']  Rather  to  her  husband,  William  Seymour,  afterwards 
marquis  of  Hertford,  who,  as  it  is  well  known,  was  imprisoned  for  marrying 
her  without  the  king's  consent.    Arabella  Stuart  was  first  cousin  to  James  I., 
who  was  jealous,  and  not  without  reason,  of  her  rights  to  the  throne  of  England. 
Her  story  is  best  told  by  lady  Theresa  Lewis  in  The  Gallery  of  Lord  Chancellor 
Clarendon  and  his  Contemporaries,  vol.  i. 

3  Like  these.']  Fuller,  in  his  Church  History,  gives  the  lines  thus  : 

"  Causa  mihi  tecum  communis  carceris,  Ara 
Regia  Bella  tibi,  regia  sacra  mihi." 


16  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

printed ;  and  thought  him  so  worthy  of  his  friendship,  that 
having  translated  many  of  the  prophet  David's  Psalms  into 
English  verse,  he  made  George  Herbert  his  patron,  by  a  public 
dedication  of  them  to  him,  as  the  best  judge  of  divine  poetry. 
And  for  the  learned  bishop,  it  is  observable  that  at  that  time 
there  fell  to  be  a  modest  debate  betwixt  them  two,  about  predes- 
tination and  sanctity  of  life ;  of  both  which  the  orator  did  not 
long  after  send  the  bishop  some  safe  and  useful  aphorisms,  in  a 
long  letter  written  in  Greek ;  which  letter  was  so  remarkable  for 
the  language  and  reason  of  it,  that  after  the  reading  it,  the  bishop 
put  it  into  his  bosom,  and  did  often  shew  it  to  many  scholars, 
both  of  this  and  foreign  nations  ;  but  did  always  return  it  back  to 
the  place  where  he  first  lodged  it,  and  continued  it  so  near  his 
heart  till  the  last  day  of  his  life. 

To  these  I  might  add  the  long  and  entire  friendship  betwixt 
him  and  sir  Henry  Wotton,  and  doctor  Donne,  but  I  have  pro- 
mised to  contract  myself,  and  shall  therefore  only  add  one  testi- 
mony to  what  is  also  mentioned 4  in  the  life  of  doctor  Donne  ; 
namely,  that  a  little  before  his  death  he  caused  many  seals  to  be 
made,  and  in  them  to  be  engraven  the  figure  of  Christ  crucified 
on  an  anchor  (the  emblem  of  hope,)  and  of  which  Dr.  Donne 

would  often  say,  Crux  mihi  ancliora. These  seals  he  gave  or 

sent  to  most  of  those  friends  on  which  he  put  a  value ;  and  at 
Mr.  Herberts  death  these  verses  were  found  wrapt  up  with  that 
seal  which  was  by  the  doctor  given  to  him. 

"  When  my  dear  friend  could  write  no  more, 
He  gave  this  seal,  and  so  gave  o'er. 

"  When  winds  and  waves  rise  highest,  I  am  sure, 
This  anchor  keeps  my  faith,  that  me  secure." 

At  this  time  of  being  orator  he  had  learnt  to  understand  the 
Italian,  Spanish,  and  French  tongues  very  perfectly ;  hoping  that 
as  his  predecessors,  so  he  might  in  time  attain  the  place  of  a 
secretary  of  state,  he  being  at  that  time  very  high  in  the  king^s 
favour,  and  not  meanly  valued  and  loved  by  the  most  eminent 
and  most  powerful  of  the  court  nobility.  This,  and  the  love  of  a 
court  conversation,  mixt  with  a  laudable  ambition  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  he  then  was,  drew  him  often  from  Cambridge  to 
attend  the  king  wheresoever  the  court  was,  who  then  gave  him  a 

4  Alto  mentioned.]  At  vol.  iii.  p.  6G7,  and  also,  in  the  Life  of  Hooker,  p.  540,  n. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  17 

sinecure  5,  which  fell  into  his  majesty's  disposal,  I  think,  by  the 
death  of  the  bishop  of  St.  Asaph.  It  was  the  same  that  queen 
Elizabeth  had  formerly  given  to  her  favourite  sir  Philip  Sidney, 
and  valued  to  be  worth  an  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  per 
annum.  With  this,  and  his  annuity,  and  the  advantage  of  his 
college,  and  of  his  oratorship,  he  enjoyed  his  genteel  humour  for 
cloaths  and  court-like  company,  and  seldom  looked  towards 
Cambridge,  unless  the  king  were  there,  but  then  he  never  failed  ; 
and  at  other  times  left  the  manage  of  his  orator's  place  to  his 
learned  friend  Mr.  Herbert  Thorndike,  who  is  now  prebend  of 
Westminster. 

I  may  not  omit  to  tell,  that  he  had  often  designed  to  leave  the 
university,  and  decline  all  study,  which  he  thought  did  impair  his 
health ;  for  he  had  a  body  apt  to  a  consumption,  and  to  fevers, 
and  to  other  infirmities,  which  he  judged  were  increased  by  his 
studies ;  for  he  would  often  say,  "  He  had  too  thoughtful  a 
wit :  a  wit,  like  a  pen-knife  in  too  narrow  a  sheath,  too  sharp 
for  his  body."  But  his  mother  would  by  no  means  allow  him  to 
leave  the  university  or  to  travel ;  and  though  he  inclined  very 
much  to  both,  yet  he  would  by  no  means  satisfy  his  own  desires 
at  so  dear  a  rate  as  to  prove  an  undutiful  son  to  so  affectionate  a 
mother,  but  did  always  submit  to  her  wisdom.  And  what  I  have 
now  said  may  partly  appear  in  a  copy  of  verses  in  his  printed 
poems  ;  it  is  one  of  those  that  bears  the  title  of  Affliction :  and 
it  appears  to  be  a  pious  reflection  on  God's  providence,  and  some 
passages  of  his  life,  in  which  he  says, 

Whereas  my  birth  and  spirit  rather  took 

The  way  that  takes  the  town  : 
Thou  didst  betray  me  to  a  ling'ring  book, 

And  wrap  me  in  a  gown  : 
I  was  entangled  in  the  world  of  strife 
Before  I  had  the  power  to  change  my  life. 

Yet,  for  I  threatened  oft  the  siege  to  raise, 

Not  simp'ring  all  mine  age  : 
Thou  often  didst  with  academic  praise, 

Melt  and  dissolve  my  rage : 
I  took  the  sweetened  pill,  till  I  came  where 
I  could  not  go  away  nor  persevere. 

3  A  sinecure.~]  The  place  of  cup-bearer  to  the  king. 
VOL.  iv. 


18  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

Yet,  least  perchance  I  should  too  happy  be 

In  my  unhappiness, 
Turning  my  purge  to  food,  thou  throwest  me 

Into  more  sicknesses. 

Thus  doth  thy  power  cross-bias  me,  not  making 
Thine  own  gifts  good,  yet  me  from  my  ways  taking. 

Now  I  am  here,  what  thou  wilt  do  with  me 

None  of  my  books  will  shew  : 
I  read,  and  sigh,  and  wish  I  were  a  tree, 

For  then  sure  I  should  grow 
To  fruit  or  shade ;  at  least,  some  bird  would  trust 
Her  houshold  with  me,  and  I  would  be  just. 

Yet,  though  thou  troublest  me,  I  must  be  meek  ; 

In  weakness  must  be  stout : 
Well,  I  will  change  my  service,  and  go  seek 

Some  other  master  out : 
Ah,  my  dear  God !  though  I  am  clean  forgot, 
Let  me  not  love  thee,  if  I  love  thee  not. 

G.  H. 

In  this  time  of  Mr.  Herberts  attendance  and  expectation  of 
some  good  occasion  to  remove  from  Cambridge  to  court ;  God,  in 
whom  there  is  an  unseen  chain  of  causes,  did  in  a  short  time  put 
an  end  to  the  lives  of  two  of  his  most  obliging  and  most  power- 
ful friends,  Lodowick  duke  of  Richmond 6,  and  James  marquis  of 
Hamilton7;  and  not  long  after  him,  king  James8  died  also,  and 
with  them,  all  Mr.  Herbert's  court  hopes :  so  that  he  presently 
betook  himself  to  a  retreat  from  London,  to  a  friend  in  Kent, 
where  he  lived  very  privately,  and  was  such  a  lover  of  solitariness 
as  was  judged  to  impair  his  health  more  than  his  study  had  done. 
In  this  manner  of  retirement  he  had  many  conflicts  with  himself, 
whether  he  should  return  to  the  painted  pleasures  of  a  court  life, 
or  betake  himself  to  a  study  of  divinity,  and  enter  into  sacred 
orders?  (to  which  his  dear  mother  had  often  persuaded  him.) 
These  were  such  conflicts  as  those  only  can  know  that  have  en- 
dured them ;  for  ambitious  desires  and  the  outward  glory  of  this 
world  are  not  easily  laid  aside;  but  at  last  God  inclined  him  to 
put  on  a  resolution  to  serve  at  his  altar. 

He  did  at  his  return  to  London  acquaint  a  court  friend  with 

6  Duke  of  Richmond.']  Died  Feb.  16,  1624-5. 

7  Marquis  of  Hamilton.]  Died  March  3,  1624-5. 

8  King  James.]  Died  March  27,  1625. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  19 

his  resolution  to  enter  into  sacred  orders,  who  persuaded  him  to 
alter  it,  as  too  mean  an  employment 9,  and  too  much  below  his 
birth,  and  the  excellent  abilities  and  endowments  of  his  mind. 
To  whom  he  replied,  "  It  hath  been  formerly  judged  that  the 
domestic  servants  of  the  King  of  Heaven  should  be  of  the 
noblest  families l  on  earth ;  and  though  the  iniquity  of  the  late 
times  have  made  clergymen  meanly  valued,  and  the  sacred  name 
of  priest  contemptible,  yet  I  will  labour  to  make  it  honourable, 
by  consecrating  all  my  learning,  and  all  my  poor  abilities,  to  ad- 
vance the  glory  of  that  God  that  gave  them ;  knowing  that  I  can 
never  do  too  much  for  him  that  hath  done  so  much  for  me  as  to 
make  me  a  Christian.  And  I  will  labour  to  be  like  my  Saviour, 
by  making  humility  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  all  men,  and  by  following 
the  merciful  and  meek  example  of  my  dear  Jesus." 

This  was  then  his  resolution,  and  the  God  of  constancy,  who 
intended  him  for  a  great  example  of  virtue,  continued  him  in  it ; 
for  within  that  year  he  was  made  deacon,  but  the  day  when,  or 
by  whom,  I  cannot  learn ;  but  that  he  was  about  that  time  made 
deacon  is  most  certain ;  for  I  find  by  the  records  of  Lincoln, 
that  he  was  made  prebend  of  Lay  ton  Ecclesia 2,  in  the  diocese  of 
Lincoln,  July  15,  1626,  and  that  this  prebend  was  given  him  by 
John 3,  then  lord  bishop  of  that  see.  And  now  he  had  a  fit  occa- 
sion to  shew  that  piety  and  bounty  that  was  derived  from  his 
generous  mother  and  his  other  memorable  ancestors;  and  the 
occasion  was  this. 

This  Layton  Ecclesia  is  a  village  near  to  Spalden4,  in  the  county 
of  Huntingdon,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  parish  church  was 
fallen  down,  and  that  of  it  which  stood  was  so  decayed,  so  little, 

9  Too  mean  an  employment.']  "And  for  our  author  (The  Sweet  Singer  of  the 
Temple),  though  he  was  one  of  the  most  prudent  and  accomplished  men  of 
his  time,  I  have  heard  sober  men  censure  him,  as  a  man  that  did  not  manage 
his  brave  parts  to  his  best  advantage  and  preferment,  but  lost  himself  in  an 
humble  way.  That  was  the  phrase,  I  well  remember." — Life  of  Mr.  George 
Herbert  by  Barnabas  Oley,  prefixed  to  his  Country  Parson. 

1  Of  the  noblest  families^    Compare  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iii.  p.  348  ; 
Barrow,  and  n. 

2  Layton  Ecclesia.']  Leighton,  in  Huntingdonshire,  five  and  a  half  miles 
N.E.  of  Kimbolton.     Dr.  Zouch  confounds  it  with  Leighton  Buzzard,  in 
Bedfordshire.     Both  places  are  attached  to  prebends  in  Lincoln. 

3  JohnJ]  John  Williams,  afterwards  archbishop  of  York. 

4  Spalden.']  Or  rather,  Spaldwick,  about  two  miles  from  Leighton.     Spal- 
den, or  Spalding,  is  in  Lincolnshire. 

c  2 


20  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

and  so  useless,  that  the  parishioners  could  not  meet  to  perform 
their  duty  to  God  in  public  prayer  and  praises ;  and  thus  it  had 
been  for  almost  twenty  years,  in  which  time  there  had  been  some 
faint  endeavours  for  a  public  collection  to  enable  the  parishioners 
to  rebuild  it,  but  with  no  success  till  Mr.  Herbert  undertook  it ; 
and  he,  by  his  own,  and  the  contribution  of  many  of  his  kindred 
and  other  noble  friends,  undertook  the  re-edification  of  it,  and 
made  it  so  much  his  whole  business,  that  he  became  restless  till  he 
saw  it  finished  as  it  now  stands 5 ;  being,  for  the  workmanship,  a 
costly  mosaic  ;  for  the  form,  an  exact  cross ;  and  for  the  decency 
and  beauty,  I  am  assured  it  is  the  most  remarkable  parish  church 
that  this  nation  affords.  He  lived  to  see  it  so  wainscoated  as  to 
be  exceeded  by  none;  and  by  his  order  the  reading-pew  and 
pulpit  were  a  little  distant  from  each  other,  and  both  of  an  equal 
height ;  for  he  would  often  say,  "  They  should  neither  have  a 
precedency  or  priority  of  the  other ;  but  that  prayer  and  preach- 
ing, being  equally  useful,  might  agree  like  brethren,  and  have  an 
equal  honour  and  estimation/'* 

Before  I  proceed  farther  I  must  look  back  to  the  time  of  Mr. 
Herberts  being  made  prebend,  and  tell  the  reader,  that  not  long 
after,  his  mother  being  informed  of  his  intentions  to  rebuild  that 
church,  and  apprehending  the  great  trouble  and  charge  that  he 
was  like  to  draw  upon  himself,  his  relations,  and  friends  before  it 
could  be  finished,  sent  for  him  from  London  to  Chelsea,  (where 

she  then  dwelt,)  and  at  his  coming,  said "  George,  I  sent  for 

you,  to  persuade  you  to  commit  simony,  by  giving  your  patron  as 
good  a  gift  as  he  has  given  to  you ;  namely,  that  you  give  him 
back  his  prebend ;  for,  George,  it  is  not  for  your  weak  body  and 
empty  purse  to  undertake  to  build  churches."  Of  which  he  de- 
sired he  might  have  a  day's  time  to  consider,  and  then  make  her 
an  answer.  And  at  his  return  to  her  the  next  day,  when  he  had 
first  desired  her  blessing,  and  she  had  given  it  him,  his  next  re- 
quest was,  "  That  she  would,  at  the  age  of  thirty- three  years, 
allow  him  to  become  an  undutiful  son,  for  he  had  made  a  vow  to 
God,  that  if  he  were  able  he  would  rebuild  that  church."  And 
then  shewed  her  such  reasons  for  his  resolution,  that  she  pre- 
sently subscribed  to  be  one  of  his  benefactors,  and  undertook  to 
solicit  William  earl  of  Pembroke  to  become  another,  who  sub- 

5  As  it  now  stands."}  A  view  of  the  church  is  given  in  Dr.  Zouch's  edition 
of  Walton's  Lives,  ii.  54. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  21 

scribed  for  fifty  pounds ;  and  not  long  after,  by  a  witty  and  per- 
suasive letter  from  Mr.  Herbert,  made  it  fifty  pounds  more.  And 
in  this  nomination  of  some  of  his  benefactors,  James  duke  of 
Lenox 6,  and  his  brother  sir  Henry  Herbert,  ought  to  be  remem- 
bered ;  as  also  the  bounty  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Farrer  and  Mr.  Arthur 
Woodnot,  the  one  a  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Layton, 
and  the  other  a  goldsmith  in  Foster-lane,  London,  ought  not  to 
be  forgotten  ;  for  the  memory  of  such  men  ought  to  outlive  their 
lives.  Of  master  Farrer  I  shall  hereafter  give  an  account  in  a 
more  seasonable  place ;  but  before  I  proceed  farther  I  will  give 
this  short  account  of  master  Arthur  Woodnot. 

He  was  a  man  that  had  considered  overgrown  estates  do  often 
require  more  care  and  watchfulness  to  preserve  than  get  them ; 
and  considered  that  there  be  many  discontents  that  riches  cure 
not ;  and  did  therefore  set  limits  to  himself  as  to  desire  of  wealth  : 
and  having  attained  so  much  as  to  be  able  to  shew  some  mercy 
to  the  poor,  and  preserve  a  competence  for  himself,  he  dedicated 
the  remaining  part  of  his  life  to  the  service  of  God,  and  to  be 
useful  for  his  friends ;  and  he  proved  to  be  so  to  Mr.  Herbert ; 
for,  beside  his  own  bounty,  he  collected  and  returned  most  of  the 
money  that  was  paid  for  the  rebuilding  of  that  church ;  he  kept 
all  the  account  of  the  charges,  and  would  often  go  down  to  state 
them,  and  see  all  the  workmen  paid.  When  I  have  said,  that 
this  good  man  was  a  useful  friend  to  Mr.  Herbert's  father,  and  to 
his  mother,  and  continued  to  be  so  to  him  till  he  closed  his  eyes 
on  his  death-bed,  I  will  forbear  to  say  more  till  I  have  the  next 
fair  occasion  to  mention  the  holy  friendship  that  was  betwixt  him 

and  Mr.  Herbert. From  whom  Mr.  Woodnot  carried  to  his 

mother  this  following  letter,  and  delivered  it  to  her  in  a  sickness 
which  was  not  long  before  that  which  proved  to  be  her  last. 

A  Letter  of  Mr.  GEORGE  HERBERT  to  Ms  mother,  in  her  sickness. 

Madam, 

At  my  last  parting  from  you  I  was  the  better  content,  because 
I  was  in  hope  I  should  myself  carry  all  sickness  out  of  your 
family ;  but  since  I  know  I  did  not,  and  that  your  share  con- 
tinues, or  rather  increaseth,  I  wish  earnestly  that  I  were  again 
with  you :  and  would  quickly  make  good  my  wish,  but  that  my 

fl  Duke  of  Lenox.']  Brother  of  Lodowick,  duke  of  Richmond  and  Lenox, 
mentioned  in  p.  18. 


22  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

employment  does  fix  me  here,  it  being  now  but  a  month  to  our 
commencement ;  wherein  my  absence  by  how  much  it  naturally 
augmenteth  suspicion,  by  so  much  shall  it  make  my  prayers  the 
more  constant  and  the  more  earnest  for  you  to  the  God  of  all 

consolation In  the  mean  time,  I  beseech  you  to  be  cheerful, 

and  comfort  yourself  in  the  God  of  all  comfort,  who  is  not  willing 

to   behold   any   sorrow   but   for   sin. What   hath   affliction 

grievous  in  it  more  than  for  a  moment  ?  or  why  should  our  afflic- 
tions here  have  so  much  power  or  boldness  as  to  oppose  the  hope 

of  our  joys  hereafter ! Madam  !  as  the  earth  is  but  a  point 

in  respect  of  the  heavens,  so  are  earthly  troubles  compared  to 
heavenly  joys ;  therefore,  if  either  age  or  sickness  lead  you  to 
those  joys,  consider  what  advantage  you  have  over  youth  and 

health,  who  are  now  so  near  those  two  comforts. Your  last 

letter  gave  me  earthly  preferment,  and  I  hope  kept  heavenly  for 
yourself:  but  would  you  divide  and  choose  too?  Our  college 
customs  allow  not  that,  and  I  should  account  myself  most  happy 
if  I  might  change  with  you ;  for  I  have  always  observed  the 
thread  of  life  to  be  like  other  threads  or  skeins  of  silk,  full  of 
snarles  and  incumbrances :  happy  is  he  whose  bottom  is  wound 

up  and  laid  ready  for  use  in  the  New  Jerusalem. For  myself, 

dear  mother,  I  always  feared  sickness  more  than  death,  because 
sickness  hath  made  me  unable  to  perform  those  offices  for  which 
I  came  into  the  world,  and  must  yet  be  kept  in  it ;  but  you  are 
freed  from  that  fear,  who  have  already  abundantly  discharged 
that  part,  having  both  ordered  your  family,  and  so  brought  up 
your  children  that  they  have  attained  to  the  years  of  discretion, 
and  competent  maintenance. — So  that  now  if  they  do  not  well, 
the  fault  cannot  be  charged  on  you,  whose  example  and  care  of 
them  will  justify  you  both  to  the  world  and  your  own  conscience ; 
insomuch  that  whether  you  turn  your  thoughts  on  the  life  past  or 
on  the  joys  that  are  to  come,  you  have  strong  preservatives 

against  all  disquiet. And  for  temporal  afflictions,  I  beseech 

you  consider  all  that  can  happen  to  you  are  either  afflictions  of 

estate,  or  body,  or  mind. For  those  of  estate ;  of  what  poor 

regard  ought  they  to  be,  since  if  we  had  riches  we  are  com- 
manded to  give  them  away  ?  so  that  the  best  use  of  them  is, 
having,  not  to  have  them. But  perhaps  being  above  the  com- 
mon people,  our  credit  and  estimation  calls  on  us  to  live  in  a 
more  splendid  fashion. But,  0  God!  how  r;i>il\  i>  that  an- 
swered, when  we  consider  that  the  blessings  in  the  holy  Scripture 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  23 

are  never  given  to  the  rich  but  to  the  poor.  I  never  find,  Blessed 
be  the  rich,  or  Blessed  be  the  noble ;  but  Blessed  be  the  meek, 
and  Blessed  be  the  poor,  and  Blessed  be  the  mourners,  for  they  shall 

be  comforted. And  yet,  0  God  !   most  carry  themselves  so  as 

if  they  not  only  not  desired,  but  even  feared  to  be  blessed. 

And  for  afflictions  of  the  body,  dear  madam,  remember  the  holy 
martyrs  of  God,  how  they  have  been  burnt  by  thousands,  and 
have  endured  such  other  tortures  as  the  very  mention  of  them 
might  beget  amazement ;  but  their  fiery  trials  have  had  an  end ; 
and  yours  (which  praised  be  God  are  less)  are  not  like  to  con- 
tinue long. 1  beseech  you  let  such  thoughts  as  these  moderate 

your  present  fear  and  sorrow ;  and  know,  that  if  any  of  your^s 
should  prove  a  Goliath-like  trouble,  yet  you  may  say  with  David, 
— That  God  who  hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  paws  of  the  lion 
and  bear  will  also  deliver  me  out  of  the  hands  of  this  uncircumcised 

Philistine. Lastly,  for  those  afflictions  of  the  soul :   consider 

that  God  intends  that  to  be  as  a  sacred  temple  for  himself  to 
dwell  in,  and  will  not  allow  any  room  there  for  such  an  inmate 

as  grief,  or  allow  that  any  sadness  shall  be  his  competitor. 

And  above  all,  if  any  care  of  future  things  molest  you,  remember 
those  admirable  words  of  the  psalmist :  Cast  thy  care  on  the  Lord, 
and  he  shall  nourish  tJiee.  (Psal.  55.)  To  which  join  that  of  St. 
Peter,  Casting  all  your  care  on  the  Lord,  for  he  careth  for  you. 

(1  Pet.  v.  7.) What  an  admirable  thing  is  this,  that  God  puts 

his  shoulder  to  our  burthen  !   and  entertains  our  care  for  us  that 

we  may  the  more  quietly  intend  his  service. To  conclude,  let 

me  commend  only  one  place  more  to  you,  (Philip,  iv.  4.)  St. 
Paul  saith  there,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always,  and  again  I  say 
Rejoice.  He  doubles  it,  to  take  away  the  scruple  of  those  that 
might  say,  What,  shall  we  rejoice  in  afflictions  ?  yes,  I  say  again 
Rejoice ;  so  that  it  is  not  left  to  us  to  rejoice  or  not  rejoice :  but 
whatsoever  befalls  us  we  must  always,  at  all  times  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  who  taketh  care  for  us :  and  it  follows  in  the  next  verse  : 
Let  your  moderation  appear  to  all  men,  the  Lord  is  at  hand :  be 
careful  for  nothing.  What  can  be  said  more  comfortably  \  trou- 
ble not  yourselves,  God  is  at  hand  to  deliver  us  from  all  or  in  all. 
Dear  madam,  pardon  my  boldness,  and  accept  the  good 
meaning  of 

Your  most  obedient  son, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 
Trin.  Coll.  May  25,  1622. 


24  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

About  the  year  1629,  and  the  34th  of  his  age,  Mr.  Herbert 
was  seized  with  a  sharp  quotidian  ague,  and  thought  to  remove  it 
by  the  change  of  air ;  to  which  end  he  went  to  Woodford,  in 
Essex,  but  thither  more  chiefly  to  enjoy  the  company  of  his 
beloved  brother,  sir  Henry  Herbert,  and  other  friends  then  of 
that  family.  In  his  house  he  remained  about  twelve  months,  and 
there  became  his  own  physician,  and  cured  himself  of  his  ague, 
by  forbearing  drink,  and  not  eating  any  meat,  no  not  mutton, 
nor  a  hen,  or  pigeon,  unless  they  were  salted ;  and  by  such  a 
constant  diet  he  removed  his  ague,  but  with  inconveniences  that 
were  worse ;  for  he  brought  upon  himself  a  disposition  to  rheums 
and  other  weaknesses,  and  a  supposed  consumption.  And  it  is 
to  be  noted,  that  in  the  sharpest  of  his  extreme  fits  he  would 
often  say,  u  Lord,  abate  my  great  affliction,  or  increase  my 
patience ;  but,  Lord,  I  repine  not ;  I  am  dumb,  Lord,  before 
thee,  because  thou  doest  it."  By  which,  and  a  sanctified  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  God,  he  shewed  he  was  inclinable  to  bear 
the  sweet  yoke  of  Christian  discipline,  both  then,  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  his  life,  of  which  there  will  be  many  true  testi- 
monies. 

And  now  his  care  was  to  recover  from  his  consumption  by  a 
change  from  Woodford  into  such  an  air  as  was  most  proper  to 
that  end.  And  his  remove  was  to  Dantsey,  in  Wiltshire,  a 
noble  house,  which  stands  in  a  choice  air  ;  the  owner  of  it  then 
was  the  lord  Danvers  7,  earl  of  Danby,  who  loved  Mr.  Herbert  so 
very  much,  that  he  allowed  him  such  an  apartment  in  it  as  might 
best  suit  with  his  accommodation  and  liking.  And  in  this  place, 
by  a  spare  diet,  declining  all  perplexing  studies,  moderate  exercise, 
and  a  cheerful  conversation,  his  health  was  apparently  improved 
to  a  good  degree  of  strength  and  cheerfulness :  and  then  he 
declared  his  resolution  both  to  marry  and  to  enter  into  the  sacred 
orders  of  priesthood.  These  had  long  been  the  desires  of  his 
mother  and  his  other  relations ;  but  she  lived  not  to  see  either, 
for  she  died  in  the  year  1627.  And  though  he  was  disobedient 
to  her  about  Layton  church,  yet,  in  conformity  to  her  will,  he 
kept  his  orator's  place  till  after  her  death,  and  then  presently 
(1(<  lined  it ;  and  the  more  willingly  that  he  might  be  succeed' •<! 

7  The  lord  Danvers.]  Henry  Danvers,  created  Lord  Danvers  of  Dantsey, 
27th  July,  1603,  and  earl  of  Danby  in  1626.  He  was  the  founder  of  the 
Botanic  Garden  at  Oxford.  He  died  in  1643,  when  his  titles  became  extinct. 
His  brother  was  George  Herbert's  stepfather,  see  p.  8. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  25 

by  his  friend  Robert  Creighton,  who  is  now  Dr.  Creighton,  and 
the  worthy  bishop  of  Wells. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  his  marriage ;  in  order  to  which  it  will 
be  convenient  that  I  first  give  the  reader  a  short  view  of  his 
person,  and  then  an  account  of  his  wife,  and  of  some  circumstances 
concerning  both. — He  was  for  his  person  of  a  stature  inclining 
towards  tallness ;  his  body  was  very  straight  and  so  far  from 
being  cumbered  with  too  much  flesh,  that  he  was  lean  to  an 
extremity.  His  aspect  was  cheerful,  arid  his  speech  and  motion 
did  both  declare  him  a  gentleman,  for  they  were  all  so  meek  and 
obliging  that  they  purchased  love  and  respect  from  all  that  knew 
him. 

These,  and  his  other  visible  virtues,  begot  him  much  love  from 
a  gentleman  of  a  noble  fortune,  and  a  near  kinsman  to  his  friend 
the  earl  of  Danby ;  namely,  from  Mr.  Charles  Danvers,  of 
Bainton,  in  the  county  of  Wilts,  esq.  This  Mr.  Danvers,  having 
known  him  long  and  familiarly,  did  so  much  affect  him,  that  he 
often  and  publicly  declared  a  desire  that  Mr.  Herbert  would 
marry  any  of  his  nine  daughters  (for  he  had  so  many)  but  rather 
his  daughter  Jane  than  any  other,  because  Jane  was  his  beloved 
daughter.  And  he  had  often  said  the  same  to  Mr.  Herbert 
himself ;  and  that  if  he  could  like  her  for  a  wife,  and  she  him  for 
a  husband,  Jane  should  have  a  double  blessing :  and  Mr.  Danvers 
had  so  often  said  the  like  to  Jane,  and  so  much  commended 
Mr.  Herbert  to  her,  that  Jane  became  so  much  a  Platonic  as  to 
fall  in  love  with  Mr.  Herbert  unseen. 

This  was  a  fair  preparation  for  a  marriage ;  but,  alas !  her 
father  died  before  Mr.  Herbert's  retirement  to  Dantsey;  yet 
some  friends  to  both  parties  procured  their  meeting,  at  which 
time  a  mutual  affection  entered  into  both  their  hearts,  as  a 
conqueror  enters  into  a  surprised  city ;  and  love  having  got  such 
possession,  governed,  and  made  there  such  laws  and  resolu- 
tions as  neither  party  was  able  to  resist;  insomuch  that  she 
changed  her  name  into  Herbert  the  third  day  after  this  first 
interview. 

This  haste  might  in  others  be  thought  a  love-phrensy,  or  worse ; 
but  it  was  not ;  for  they  had  wooed  so  like  princes  as  to  have 
select  proxies :  such  as  were  true  friends  to  both  parties,  such  as 
well  understood  Mr.  Herbert's  and  her  temper  of  mind,  and  also 
their  estate  so  well  before  this  interview,  that  the  suddenness 
was  justifiable  by  the  strictest  rules  of  prudence  ;  and  the  more, 


26  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

because  it  proved  so  happy  to  both  parties ;  for  the  eternal  lover 
of  mankind  made  them  happy  in  each  other's  mutual  and  equal 
affections  and  compliance ;  indeed  so  happy  that  there  never  was 
any  opposition  betwixt  them,  unless  it  were  a  contest  which 
should  most  incline  to  a  compliance  with  the  other's  desires. 
And  though  this  begot  and  continued  in  them  such  a  mutual 
love,  and  joy,  and  content,  as  was  no  way  defective ;  yet  this 
mutual  content,  and  love,  and  joy,  did  receive  a  daily  augmenta- 
tion by  such  daily  obligingness  to  each  other  as  still  added  such 
new  affluences  to  the  former  fulness  of  these  divine  souls  as  was 
only  improvable  in  heaven,  where  they  now  enjoy  it. 

About  three  months  after  his  marriage,  Dr.  Curie,  who  was 
then  rector  of  Bemerton,  in  Wiltshire,  was  made  bishop  of  Bath 
and  Wells,  (and  not  long  after  translated  to  Winchester,)  and 
by  that  means  the  presentation  of  a  clerk  to  Bemerton  did  not 
fall  to  the  earl  of  Pembroke,  (who  was  the  undoubted  patron  of 
it,)  but  to  the  king,  by  reason  of  Dr.  Curie's  advancement:  but 
Philip 8,  then  earl  of  Pembroke,  (for  William  was  lately  dead ',) 
requested  the  king  to  bestow  it  upon  his  kinsman  George  Herbert ; 
and  the  king  said,  "  Most  willingly  to  Mr.  Herbert,  if  it  be 
worth  his  acceptance  :"  and  the  earl  as  willingly  and  suddenly 
sent  it  to  him  without  seeking.  But  though  Mr.  Herbert  had 
put  on  a  resolution  for  the  clergy,  yet,  at  receiving  this  presenta- 
tion, the  apprehension  of  the  last  great  account  that  he  was  to 
make  for  the  cure  of  so  many  souls  made  him  fast  and  pray  often, 
and  consider  for  not  less  than  a  month ;  in  which  time  he  had 
some  resolutions  to  decline  both  the  priesthood  and  that  living. 
And  in  this  time  of  considering,  "He  endured"  (as  he  would 
often  say)  "  such  spiritual  conflicts  as  none  can  think  but  only 
those  that  have  endured  them." 

In  the  midst  of  these  conflicts,  his  old  and  dear  friend  Mr. 
Arthur  Woodnot  took  a  journey  to  salute  him  at  Bainton  (where 
he  then  was  with  his  wife's  friends  and  relations),  and  was  joyful 
to  be  an  eye-witness  of  his  health,  and  happy  marriage.  And 
after  they  had  rejoiced  together  some  few  days,  they  took 
journey  to  Wilton,  the  famous  seat  of  the  earls  of  Pembroke  ;  at 
which  time  the  king,  the  earl,  and  the  whole  court  were  th«T<>. 
or  at  Salisbury,  which  is  near  to  it.  And  at  this  time  Mr. 

"  Philip.]  A  great  favourite  of  James,  who  had  previously  created  him  earl 
of  Montgomery. 
9  Lately  dead.]  10th  April,  1630. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  2.7 

Herbert  presented  his  thanks  to  the  earl,  for  his  presentation  to 
Bemerton,  but  had  not  yet  resolved  to  accept  it,  and  told  him 
the  reason  why  ;  but  that  night,  the  earl  acquainted  Dr.  Laud, 
then  bishop  of  London,  and  after  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with 
his  kinsman's  irresolution.  And  the  bishop  did  the  next  day  so 
convince  Mr.  Herbert  that  the  refusal  of  it  was  a  sin ;  that  a 
taylor  was  sent  for  to  come  speedily  from  Salisbury  to  Wilton, 
to  take  measure,  and  make  him  canonical  cloaths,  against  next 
day  :  which  the  taylor  did  ;  and  Mr.  Herbert  being  so  habited, 
went  with  his  presentation  to  the  learned  Dr.  Davenant,  who 
was  then  bishop  of  Salisbury,  and  he  gave  him  institution  imme- 
diately (for  Mr.  Herbert  had  been  made  deacon  some  years 
before),  and  he  was  also  the  same  day  (which  was  April  26, 
1630)  inducted  into  the  good  and  more  pleasant  than  healthful 
parsonage  of  Bemerton  :  which  is  a  mile  from  Salisbury. 

I  have  now  brought  him  to  the  parsonage  of  Bemerton,  and  to 
the  thirty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  must  stop  here,  and  bespeak 
the  reader  to  prepare  for  an  almost  incredible  story  of  the  great 
sanctity  of  the  short  remainder  of  his  holy  life  ;  a  life  so  full  of 
charity,  humility,  and  all  Christian  virtues,  that  it  deserves  the 
eloquence  of  St.  Chrysostom  to  commend  and  declare  it !  A 
life  that  if  it  were  related  by  a  pen  like  his,  there  would  then 
be  no  need  for  this  age  to  look  back  into  times  past  for  the 
examples  of  primitive  piety  :  for,  they  might  be  all  found  in  the 
life  of  George  Herbert.  But  now,  alas  !  who  is  fit  to  undertake 
it !  I  confess  I  am  not :  and  am  not  pleased  with  myself  that  I 
must ;  and  profess  myself  amazed,  when  I  consider  how  few  of 
the  clergy  lived  like  him  then,  and  how  many  live  so  unlike  him 
now. — But,  it  becomes  not  me  to  censure  :  my  design  is  rather 
to  assure  the  reader,  that  I  have  used  very  great  diligence  to 
inform  myself,  that  I  might  inform  him  of  the  truth  of  what 
follows  ;  and  though  I  cannot  adorn  it  with  eloquence,  yet  I 
will  do  it  with  sincerity. 

When  at  his  induction  he  was  shut  into  Bemerton  church, 
being  left  there  alone  to  toll  the  bell,  (as  the  law  requires  him :) 
he  staid  so  much  longer  than  an  ordinary  time,  before  he  returned 
to  those  friends  that  staid  expecting  him  at  the  church-door, 
that  his  friend  Mr.  Woodnot  looked  in  at  the  church-window, 
and  saw  him  lie  prostrate  on  the  ground  before  the  altar :  at 
which  time  and  place  (as  he  after  told  Mr.  Woodnot)  he  set 


28  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

some  rules  to  himself,  for  the  future  manage  of  his  life  ;  and  then 
and  there  made  a  vow,  to  labour  to  keep  them. 

And  the  same  night  that  he  had  his  induction,  he  said  to  Mr. 
Woodnot,  "  I  now  look  back  upon  my  aspiring  thoughts,  and 
think  myself  more  happy  than  if  I  had  attained  what  then  I  so 
ambitiously  thirsted  for.  And,  I  can  now  behold  the  court 
with  an  impartial  eye,  and  see  plainly,  that  it  is  made  up  of 
frauds  and  titles,  and  flattery,  and  many  other  such  empty, 
imaginary,  painted  pleasures :  pleasures,  that  are  so  empty,  as 
not  to  satisfy  when  they  are  enjoyed;  but,  in  God  and  his 
service,  is  a  fulness  of  all  joy  and  pleasure,  and  no  satiety.  And 
I  will  now  use  all  my  endeavours  to  bring  my  relations  and 
dependants  to  a  love  and  reliance  on  him,  who  never  fails  those 
that  trust  him.  But  above  all,  I  will  be  sure  to  live  well,  because 
the  virtuous  life  of  a  clergyman  is  the  most  powerful  eloquence  to 
persuade  all  that  see  it  to  reverence  and  love,  and  at  least,  to 
desire  to  live  like  him.  And  this  I  will  do,  because  I  know  we 
live  in  an  age  that  hath  more  need  of  good  examples,  than 
precepts.  And  I  beseech  that  God,  who  hath  honoured  me  so 
much  as  to  call  me  to  serve  him  at  his  altar,  that  as  by  his 
special  grace  he  hath  put  into  my  heart  these  good  desires,  and 
resolutions;  so,  he  will  by  his  assisting  grace  give  me  ghostly 
strength  to  bring  the  same  to  good  effect.  And  I  beseech  him 
that  my  humble  and  charitable  life  may  so  win  upon  others,  as  to 
bring  glory  to  my  Jesus,  whom  I  have  this  day  taken  to  be  my 
master  and  governor ;  and  I  am  so  proud  of  his  service,  that  I 
will  always  observe,  and  obey,  and  do  his  will ;  and  always  call 
him  Jesus  my  master1 ;  and  I  will  always  contemn  my  birth,  or 
any  title  or  dignity  that  can  be  conferred  upon  me,  when  I  shall 
compare  them  with  my  title  of  being  a  priest,  and  serving  at  the 
altar  of  Jesus  my  master." 

And  that  he  did  so,  may  appear  in  many  parts  of  his  book  of 
Sacred  1'oL-ms;  especially  in  that  which  he  calls  the  Odour.  In 

1  Jesus  my  master.']  "  To  testify  his  independency  upon  all  others,  and  to 
quicken  his  diligence,  he  used  in  his  ordinary  speech,  when  he  made  mention 
of  the  blessed  name  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  to  add,  My 
Master.''—  Printer's  Preface  to  The  Temple,  or  Sacred  Poems,  &c. 

•  1 1  is  motto,  with  which  he  used  to  conclude  all  things  that  might  seem  to 
end  any  way  to  his  own  honour,  was, 

"  Lets  than  the  least  of  God's  mercies."— Ibid. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  29 

which  he  seems  to  rejoice  in  the  thoughts  of  that  word  Jesus,  and 
say  that  the  adding  these  words  my  master  to  it,  and  the  often 
repetition  of  them,  seemed  to  perfume  his  mind,  and  leave  an 
oriental  fragrancy  in  his  very  breath.  And  for  his  unforced 
choice  to  serve  at  God's  altar,  he  seems  in  another  place  of  his 
poems  (the  Pearl,  Matth.  xiii.)  to  rejoice  and  say — "  He  knew 
the  ways  of  learning ;  knew,  what  nature  does  willingly ;  and 
what  when  it  is  forced  by  fire :  knew  the  ways  of  honour,  and 
when  glory  inclines  the  soul  to  noble  expressions :  knew  the 
court :  knew  the  ways  of  pleasure,  of  love,  of  wit,  of  music,  and 
upon  what  terms  he  declined  all  these  for  the  service  of  his 
master  Jesus,"  and  then  concludes,  saying, 

"  That,  through  these  labyrinths,  not  my  groveling  wit, 
But,  thy  silk-twist,  let  down  from  heaven  to  me, 
Did,  both  conduct,  and  teach  me,  how  by  it, 
To  climb  to  thee." 

The  third  day  after  he  was  made  rector  of  Bemerton,  and  had 
changed  his  sword  and  silk  cloathes  into  a  canonical  coat,  he 
returned  so  habited  with  his  friend  Mr.  Woodnot  to  Bainton  : 
and,  immediately  after  he  had  seen  and  saluted  his  wife,  he  said 
to  her — "  You  are  now  a  minister's  wife,  and  must  now  so  far 
forget  your  father's  house,  as  not  to  claim  a  precedence  of  any  of 
your  parishioners ;  for  you  are  to  know,  that  a  priest's  wife  can 
challenge  no  precedence  or  place,  but  that  which  she  purchases 
by  her  obliging  humility ;  and,  I  am  sure,  places  so  purchased 
do  best  become  them.  And,  let  me  tell  you,  that  I  am  so  good 
a  herald  as  to  assure  you  that  this  is  truth."  And  she  was  so 
meek  a  wife,  "as  to  assure  him  that  it  was  no  vexing  news  to 
her,  and  that  he  should  see  her  observe  it  with  a  chearful  willing- 
ness." And  indeed  her  unforced  humility,  that  humility  that  was 
in  her  so  original  as  to  be  born  with  her  !  made  her  so  happy  as 
to  do  so ;  and  her  doing  so  begot  her  an  unfeigned  love,  and  a 
serviceable  respect  from  all  that  conversed  with  her ;  and  this 
love  followed  her  in  all  places,  as  inseparably,  as  shadows  follow 
substances  in  sun-shine. 

It  was  not  many  days  before  he  returned  back  to  Bemerton, 
to  view  the  church,  and  repair  the  chancel ;  and  indeed,  to  re- 
build almost  three  parts  of  his  house  which  was  fallen  down,  or 
decayed  by  reason  of  his  predecessor's  living  at  a  better  parsonage- 


30  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

house ;  namely,  at  Minal,  sixteen  or  twenty  miles  from  this  place. 
At  which  time  of  Mr.  Herberts  coming  alone  to  Bemerton,  there 
came  to  him  a  poor  old  woman,  with  an  intent  to  acquaint  him 
with  her  necessitous  condition,  as  also  with  some  troubles  of  her 
mind ;  but  after  she  had  spoke  some  few  words  to  him,  she  was 
surprised  with  a  fear,  and  that  begot  a  shortness  of  breath,  so 
that  her  spirits  and  speech  failed  her ;  which  he  perceiving,  did  so 
compassionate  her,  and  was  so  humble,  that  he  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  "  Speak,  good  mother,  be  not  afraid  to  speak  to 
me  ;  for  I  am  a  man  that  will  hear  you  with  patience  !  and  will 
relieve  your  necessities  too,  if  I  be  able :  and  this  I  will  do  wil- 
lingly, and  therefore,  mother,  be  not  afraid  to  acquaint  me  with 
what  you  desire."  After  which  comfortable  speech,  he  again  took 
her  by  the  hand,  made  her  sit  down  by  him,  and  understanding 
she  was  of  his  parish,  he  told  her,  "  He  would  be  acquainted 
with  her,  and  take  her  into  his  care :"  and  having  with  patience 
heard  and  understood  her  wants  (and  it  is  some  relief  for  a  poor 
body  to  be  but  heard  with  patience)  he  like  a  Christian  clergyman 
comforted  her  by  his  meek  behaviour  and  counsel :  but  because 
that  cost  him  nothing,  he  relieved  her  with  money  too,  and  so 
sent  her  home  with  a  chearful  heart,  praising  God,  and  praying 
for  him.  Thus  worthy,  and  (like  David's  blessed  man)  thus  lowly, 
was  Mr.  George  Herbert  in  his  own  eyes :  and  thus  lovely  in  the 
eyes  of  others. 

At  his  return  that  night  to  his  wife  at  Bainton,  he  gave  her  an 
account  of  the  passages  betwixt  him  and  the  poor  woman  ;  with 
which  she  was  so  affected,  that  she  went  next  day  to  Salisbury, 
and  there  bought  a  pair  of  blankets  and  sent  them  as  a  token  of 
her  love  to  the  poor  woman :  and  with  them  a  message,  "  That 
she  would  see  and  be  acquainted  with  her,  when  her  house  was 
built  at  Bemerton." 

There  be  many  such  passages  both  of  him  and  his  wife,  of 
which  some  few  will  be  related  ;  but  I  shall  first  tell,  that  he 
hasted  to  get  the  parish  church  repaired ;  then  to  beautify  the 
chapel  (which  stands  near  his  house)  and  that  at  his  own  great 
charge.  He  then  proceeded  to  re -build  the  greatest  part  of  the 
parsonage-house,  which  he  did  also  very  compleatly,  and  at  his 
own  charge ;  and  having  done  this  good  work,  he  caused  these 
verses  to  be  writ  upon  it.  or  engraven  in  the  mantle  of  the  chim- 
ney in  his  hall. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  31 

"  To  my  successor. 

"  If  thou  chance  for  to  find 
A  new  house  to  thy  mind, 

And  built  without  thy  cost : 
Be  good  to  the  poor, 
As  God  gives  thee  store, 

And  then  my  labour's  not  lost." 

We  will  now  by  the  reader's  favour  suppose  him  fixed  at  Be- 
merton,  and  grant  him  to  have  seen  the  church  repaired,  and  the 
chapel  belonging  to  it  very  decently  adorned,  at  his  own  great 
charge  (which  is  a  real  truth),  and  having  now  fixed  him  there,  I 
shall  proceed  to  give  an  account  of  the  rest  of  his  behaviour  both 
to  his  parishioners,  and  those  many  others  that  knew  and 
conversed  with  him. 

Doubtless  Mr.  Herbert  had  considered  and  given  rules  to  him- 
self for  his  Christian  carriage  both  to  God  and  man,  before  he 
entered  into  holy  orders.  And  it  is  not  unlike,  but  that  he 
renewed  those  resolutions  at  his  prostration  before  the  holy  altar, 
at  his  induction  into  the  church  at  Bemerton  ;  but  as  yet  he  was 
but  a  deacon,  and  therefore  longed  for  the  next  ember-week,  that 
he  might  be  ordained  priest,  and  made  capable  of  administering 
both  the  sacraments.  At  which  time,  the  reverend  doctor 
Humphrey  Hinchman,  now  lord  bishop  of  London  (who  does  not 
mention  him,  but  with  some  veneration  for  his  life  and  excellent 
learning,)  tells  me,  "  He  laid  his  hand  on  Mr.  Herbert's  head, 
and  (alas  !)  within  less  than  three  years,  lent  his  shoulder  to  carry 
his  dear  friend  to  his  grave." 

And  that  Mr.  Herbert  might  the  better  preserve  those  holy 
rules  which  such  a  priest  as  he  intended  to  be,  ought  to  observe ; 
and,  that  time  might  not  insensibly  blot  them  out  of  his  memory, 
but  that  the  next  year  might  shew  him  his  variations  from  this 
year's  resolutions ;  he  therefore  did  set  down  his  rules,  then 
resolved  upon,  in  that  order,  as  the  world  now  sees  them  printed 
in  a  little  book  called,  The  Country  Parson,  in  which  some  of  his 
rules  are : 

The  Parson's  Knowledge. 

The  Parson  on  Sundays. 

The  Parson  Praying. 

The  Parson  Preaching. 

The  Parson's  Charity. 


32  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

The  Parson  comforting  the  Sick. 

The  Parson  Arguing. 

The  Parson  Condescending. 

The  Parson  in  his  Journey. 

The  Parson  in  his  Mirth. 

The  Parson  with  his  Churchwardens. 

The  Parson  blessing  the  People. 

And  his  behaviour  toward  God  and  man  may  be  said  to  be  a 
practical  comment  on  these,  and  the  other  holy  rules  set  down  in 
that  useful  book.  A  book,  so  full  of  plain,  prudent  and  useful 
rules,  that  that  country  parson,  that  can  spare  twelve  pence  and 
yet  wants  it,  is  scarce  excusable  ;  because  it  will  both  direct  him 
what  he  ought  to  do,  and  convince  him  for  not  having  done  it. 

At  the  death  of  Mr.  Herbert,  this  book  fell  into  the  hands 
of  his  friend  Mr.  Woodnot ;  and  he  commended  it  into  the 
trusty  hands  of  Mr.  Barnabas  Oly,  who  published  it 3  with  a  most 
conscientious,  and  excellent  preface ;  from  which  I  have  had  some 
of  those  truths,  that  are  related  in  this  life  of  Mr.  Herbert. — 
The  text  for  his  first  sermon  was  taken  out  of  Solomons  Proverbs, 
and  the  words  were,  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence.  In  which 
first  sermon,  he  gave  his  parishioners  many  necessary,  holy,  safe 
rules  for  the  discharge  of  a  good  conscience,  both  to  God  and  man. 
And  delivered  his  sermon  after  a  most  florid  manner ;  both  with 
great  learning  and  eloquence.  But  at  the  close  of  this  sermon, 
told  them,  "  That  should  not  be  his  constant  way  of  preaching ; 
for,  since  almighty  God  does  not  intend  to  lead  men  to  heaven  by 
hard  questions,  he  would  not  therefore  fill  their  heads  with  unne- 
cessary notions ;  but,  that  for  their  sakes,  his  language  and  his 
expressions  should  be  more  plain  and  practical  in  his  future  ser- 

2  Who  published  it.'}  The  Country  Parson  has  been  lately  reprinted  at  the 
Clarendon  Press,  by  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  a  volume  intitled  The  Cler- 
gyman's Instructor;  which  contains  also  Bishop  Burnet's  Pastoral  Care, 
Bishop  Bull's  Directions  to  Candidates  for  Holy  Orders,  and  some  other 
excellent  tracts  on  the  ministerial  duties  ;  the  whole  forming  a  very  valuable 
addition  to  the  highly  important  services  which  have  recently  been  rendered 
by  that  University  to  the  cause  of  religion,  and  of  the  Church  of  England  in 
particular,  by  the  republication  of  a  collection  of  works  of  our  English 
divines,  for  the  use  of  the  younger  clergy,  and  students  in  theology.  The 
collection  comprises  the  Homilies,  Hooker's  Works,  Pearson  on  the  Creed, 
Stillingfleet's  Origines  Sacra,  Barrow's  Works,  Walton's  Lives,  Wheatly  on 
the  Common  Prayer,  &c.  &c. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  33 

mons."  And  he  then  made  it  his  humble  request,  that  they 
would  be  constant  to  the  afternoon's  service,  and  catechising. 
And  shewed  them  convincing  reasons  why  he  desired  it ;  and  his 
obliging  example  and  persuasions  brought  them  to  a  willing  con- 
formity to  his  desires. 

The  texts  for  all  his  future  sermons  (which  God  knows  were 
not  many)  were  constantly  taken  out  of  the  gospel  for  the  day ; 
and  he  did  as  constantly  declare  why  the  church  did  appoint  that 
portion  of  Scripture  to  be  that  day  read :  and  in  what  manner 
the  collect  for  every  Sunday  does  refer  to  the  gospel,  or  to  the 
epistle  then  read  to  them  ;  and,  that  they  might  pray  with  under- 
standing, he  did  usually  take  occasion  to  explain,  not  only  the 
collect  for  every  particular  Sunday,  but  the  reasons  of  all  the 
other  collects  and  responses  in  our  church-service  ;  and  made  it 
appear  to  them,  that  the  whole  service  of  the  church  was  a  rea- 
sonable, and  therefore  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to  God ;  as  namely, 
that  we  begin  with  confession  of  ourselves  to  be  vile,  miserable 
sinners:  and  that  we  begin  so,  because  till  we  have  confessed 
ourselves  to  be  such,  we  are  not  capable  of  that  mercy  which 
we  acknowledge  we  need,  and  pray  for :  but  having  in  the  prayer 
of  our  Lord,  begged  pardon  for  those  sins  which  we  have  confest ; 
and  hoping  that  as  the  priest  hath  declared  our  absolution,  so  by 
our  public  confession,  and  real  repentance,  we  have  obtained  that 
pardon ;  then  we  dare  and  do  proceed  to  beg  of  the  Lord,  to  open 
our  lips,  that  our  mouths  may  shew  forth  his  praise ;  for  till  then, 
we  are  neither  able  nor  worthy  to  praise  him.  But  this  being 
supposed,  we  are  then  fit  to  say,  Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the 
Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  fit  to  proceed  to  a  further  service 
of  our  God,  in  the  collects,  and  psalms,  and  lauds  that  follow  in 
the  service. 

And  as  to  these  psalms  and  lauds,  he  proceeded  to  inform  them, 
why  they  were  so  often,  and  some  of  them  daily  repeated  in  our 
church-service  :  namely,  the  psalms  every  month,  because  they  be 
an  historical  and  thankful  repetition  of  mercies  past ;  and  such  a 
composition  of  prayers  and  praises,  as  ought  to  be  repeated  often, 
and  publickly;  for  with  such  sacrifices,  God  is  honoured,  and 
well-pleased.  This  for  the  psalms. 

And  for  the  hymns  and  lauds,  appointed  to  be  daily  repeated 
or  sung  after  the  first  and  second  lessons  are  read  to  the  congre- 
gation ;  he  proceeded  to  inform  them,  that  it  was  most  reason- 
able, after  they  have  heard  the  will  and  goodness  of  God  declared 

VOL.  TV.  D 


34  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

or  preached  by  the  priest  in  his  reading  the  two  chapters,  that  it 
was  then  a  seasonable  duty  to  rise  up  and  express  their  gratitude 
to  almighty  God  for  those  his  mercies  to  them,  and  to  all  man- 
kind ;  and  then  to  say  with  the  blessed  Virgin,  That  their  souls 
do  magnify  the  Lord,  and  that  their  spirits  do  also  rejoice  in  God 
tlwir  Saviour.  And  that  it  was  their  duty  also  to  rejoice  with 
Simeon  in  his  song,  and  say  with  him,  That  their  eyes  have  also 
seen  their  salvation  ;  for,  they  have  seen  that  salvation  which  was 
but  prophesyed  till  his  time :  and  he  then  broke  out  into  those 
expressions  of  joy  that  he  did  see  it,  but,  they  live  to  see  it 
daily,  in  the  history  of  it,  and  therefore  ought  daily  to  rejoice, 
and  daily  to  offer  up  their  sacrifices  of  praise  to  their  God,  for 
that  particular  mercy.  A  service,  which  is  now  the  constant  em- 
ployment of  that  blessed  Virgin,  and  Simeon,  and  all  those 
blessed  saints  that  are  possest  of  heaven  :  and,  where  they  are  at 
this  time  interchangeably,  and  constantly  singing,  Holy,  holy,  holy 

Lord  God,  glory  be  to  God  on  high,  and  on  earth  peace. And  he 

taught  them,  that  to  do  this  was  an  acceptable  service  to  God, 
because  the  prophet  David  says  in  his  psalms,  He  that  praiseth  1l<> 
Lord,  hwoureth  him. 

He  made  them  to  understand,  how  happy  they  be  that  are 
freed  from  the  incumbrances  of  that  law  which  our  fore-fathers 
groaned  under ;  namely,  from  the  legal  sacrifices,  and  from  the 
many  ceremonies  of  the  Levitical  law ;  freed  from  circumcision, 
and  from  the  strict  observation  of  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  and  the 
like :  and  he  made  them  know,  that  having  received  so  many, 
and  so  great  blessings,  by  being  born  since  the  days  of  our  Sa- 
viour, it  must  be  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to  almighty  God,  for 
them  to  acknowledge  those  blessings  daily,  and  stand  up  and  wor- 
ship, and  say  as  Zacharias  did,  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel, 
for  he  linlli  (in  our  days)  visited  and  redeemed  his  people;  and  (he 
hath  in  our  days)  remembered,  and  shewed  that  mercy  which  by  the 
mouth  of  tlie  prophets  lie  promised  to  our  forefathers :  and  this  he 
hath  done,  according  to  his  holy  covenant  made  with  them.  And 
h<  made  them  to  understand  that  we  live  to  see  and  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  it,  in  his  birth,  in  his  life,  in  his  passion,  his  resurrec- 
tion and  ascension  into  heaven,  where  he  now  sits  sensible  of  all 
our  temptations  and  infirmities;  and  where  lie  is  at  this  present 
time  making  intercession  for  us.  to  his,  and  our  Father:  and 
therefore  they  ought  daily  to  express  their  public  gratulutimis. 
and  say  daily  with  /;.  >/  //,  ///,//  A//,-//  God  of  I* 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  35 

that  hath  thus  visited,  and  thus  redeemed  his  people. These  were 

some  of  the  reasons  by  which  Mr.  Herbert  instructed  his  congre- 
gation for  the  use  of  the  psalms,  and  the  hymns  appointed  to  be 
daily  sung  or  said  in  the  church-service. 

He  informed  them  also,  when  the  priest  did  pray  only  for  the 
congregation,  and  not  for  himself;  and  when  they  did  only  pray 
for  him,  as  namely,  after  the  repetition  of  the  creed,  before  he 
proceeds  to  pray  the  Lord's  prayer,  or  any  of  the  appointed  col- 
lects, the  priest  is  directed  to  kneel  down,  and  pray  for  them, 

saying The  Lord  be  with  you And  when  they  pray  for 

him,  saying And  with  thy  spirit ;  and  then  they  join  together 

in  the  following  collects  ;  and  he  assured  them,  that  when  there 
is  such  mutual  love,  and  such  joint  prayers  offered  for  each  other, 
then  the  holy  angels  look  down  from  heaven,  and  are  ready  to 
carry  such  charitable  desires  to  God  almighty ;  and  he  as  ready 
to  receive  them ;  and  that  a  Christian  congregation  calling  thus 
upon  God,  with  one  heart,  and  one  voice,  and  in  one  reverend  and 
humble  posture,  look  as  beautifully  as  Jerusalem,  that  is  at  peace 
with  itself. 

He  instructed  them  also,  why  the  prayer  of  our  Lord  was 
prayed  often 3  in  every  full  service  of  the  church  ;  namely,  at  the 

3  Why  the  prayer  of  our  Lord  was  prayed  oftenJ]  "  Marvel  not  that  I  use 
at  the  sermons  end  to  make  prayer,  for  I  do  it  not  of  singularitie  :  but  when 
I  am  at  home,  and  in  the  countrey  where  I  goe,  sometime  when  the  poore 
people  come  and  aske  it  me,  I  appose  them  my  selfe,  or  cause  my  servant  to 
appose  them  of  the  Lordes  Prayer,  and  they  aunswere  some,  '  I  can  my 
Latin  Pater  noster;'  some,  '  I  can  the  old  Pater  noster,  but  not  the  new.' 
Therefore,  that  all  that  can  it  not  may  learne,  I  use  before  the  Sermon  and 
after  to  say  it.  Wherefore  now  I  beseeche  you  let  us  say  it  together ;  Our 
Father  whiche  art  in  heaven,  fyc."  Latimer's  Sermons,  fol.  100,  edit.  1584. 
Calvin  "  ever  concluded  his  prayer  before  or  after  sermon  with  repeating  of 
the  Creed  and  Lord's  Prayer,  conceiving  it  to  be  of  good  use  to  have  these 
often  sounding  in  the  ears  of  the  people,  as  Beza  tells  us  in  writing  his  life." 
Bernard's  Life  of  Archbishop  Usher,  p.  84.  "  It  is  no  wonder  you  are 
thought  a  legal  preacher "  (says  Mr.  Clark,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Doddridge, 
when  a  young  man)  "  when  you  have  the  ten  commandments  painted  on  the 
walls  of  your  chappel :  besides,  you  have  a  clerk,  it  seems,  so  impertinent  as 
to  say  Amen,  with  an  audible  voice.  O  tempora  !  0  mores  I  that  such  a  rag 
of  popery  should  ever  be  tolerated  in  a  congregation  of  protestant  dissen- 
ters :  and  to  conclude  all,  you,  the  minister,  conclude  your  prayers  with  a 
form  called  the  Lord's  Prayer. — It  may  be  you  are  surprised  what  this  means. 
In  a  few  words  then,  Mr.  Chandler  of  Bedford,  being  on  his  return  home,  at 
Mr.  Eccles's,  desired  him  upon  my  motion  to  write  to  Hertford,  to  recom- 
mend you  to  them  in  his  name,  as  a  very  fit  man  to  be  their  minister.  Upon 

D2 


36  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

conclusion  of  the  several  parts  of  that  service ;  and  prayed  then, 
not  only  because  it  was  composed,  and  commanded  by  our  Jesus 
that  made  it,  but  as  a  perfect  pattern  for  our  less  perfect  forms 
of  prayer,  and  therefore  fittest  to  sum  up  and  conclude  all  our 
imperfect  petitions. 

He  instructed  them  also,  that  as  by  the  second  commandment 
we  are  required,  not  to  bow  down,  or  worship  an  idol,  or  false 
god ;  so  by  the  contrary  rule,  we  are  to  bow  down  and  kneel,  or 
stand  up  and  worship  the  true  God.  And  he  instructed  them, 
why  the  church  required  the  congregation  to  stand  up  at  the 
repetition  of  the  creeds ;  namely,  because  they  did  thereby  de- 
clare both  their  obedience  to  the  church,  and  an  assent  to  that 
faith  into  which  they  had  been  baptized.  And  he  taught  them, 
that  in  that  shorter  creed  or  doxology  so  often  repeated  daily, 
they  also  stood  up  to  testify  their  belief4  to  be,  that  the  God  that 
they  trusted  in  was  one  God,  and  three  persons ;  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost ;  to  whom  they  and  the  priest  gave  glory  : 
and  because  there  had  been  heretics  that  had  denyed  some  of 
these  three  persons  to  be  God,  therefore  the  congregation  stood 

this,  two  members  of  that  congregation  went  the  other  day  to  Kibworth  to 
hear  you  preach  :  but  no  sooner  did  they  come  into  the  place  but  they  found 
themselves  disappointed  :  and  what  they  heard  at  the  close  confirmed  them 
so  much  in  their  prejudices,  that  they  thought  it  needless  to  say  any  thing 
of  their  intention  to  you.  Going  to  preach  last  Sunday  at  Ware,  I  heard 
all  this  there;  and  afterwards  at  Hertford."  Letters  to  and  from  Dr.  Dod- 
dridge,  p.  14. 

4  To  testify  their  belief.']  "  I  know  a  minister  "  (says  Fuller  in  his  Church 
History,  speaking  of  the  times  when  the  liturgy  was  forbidden  by  an  ordi- 
nance of  the  parliament,  and  the  presbyterian  directory  was  established)  "  I 
know  a  minister  who  was  accused  for  using  the  Gloria  Patri  (conforming  his 
practice  to  the  directorie  in  all  things  else,)  and  threatened  to  be  brought  to 
the  committee.  He  pleaded  the  words  of  Mr.  Cartwright  in  his  defence, 
'confessing*  (Reply  against  IVhitgift,  p.  107,  sect.  4.)  'the  gloria  Patri 
founded  on  just  cause,  that  men  might  make  their  open  profession  in  the 
church  of  the  divinity  of  the  Son  of  God,  against  the  detestable  opinion  of 
Arius  and  his  disciples.  But  now  (saith  he)  that  it  hath  pleased  the  Lord 
to  quench  that  fire,  there  is  no  such  cause  why  those  things  should  be 
used.'  But  seeing  (said  the  minister)  it  hath  pleased  God  for  our  sins  to 
condemn  us  to  live  in  so  licentious  an  age,  wherein  the  divinity  both  of 
('hrist  and  the  Holy  Ghost  is  called  frequently  and  publickly  into  question, 
the  same  now  (by  Mr.  Cartwright's  judgment)  may  lawfully  be  used,  not  to 
say  cannot  well  be  omitted. — I  remember  not  that  he  heard  any  more  of  the 
matter."  Church  History  of  Britain,  Cent.  17,  p.  224.  Compare  Hooker's 
Ecclesiastical  Polity,  book  r>,  c.  42. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  37 

up  and  honoured  him,  by  confessing,  and  saying,  It  was  so  in  the 
beginning,  is  now  so,  and  shall  ever  be  so  world  without  end.  And 
all  gave  their  assent  to  this  belief,  by  standing  up  and  saying, 
Amen. 

He -instructed  them  also,  what  benefit  they  had  by  the  church's 
appointing  the  celebration  of  holidays 5,  and  the  excellent  use  of 
them ;  namely,  that  they  were  set  apart  for  particular  commemora- 
tions of  particular  mercies  received  from  almighty  God  ;  and  (as 
reverend  Mr.  Hooker  says)  to  be  the  land-marks  to  distinguish 
times ;  for  by  them  we  are  taught  to  take  notice  how  time  passes 
by  us ;  and,  that  we  ought  not  to  let  the  years  pass  without  a  ce- 
lebration of  praise  for  those  mercies  which  those  days  give  us  oc- 
casion to  remember;  and  therefore  they  were  to  note  that  the  year 
is  appointed  to  begin 6  the  25th  day  of  March  ;  a  day  in  which  we 
commemorate  the  angePs  appearing  to  the  blessed  Virgin,  with 
the  joyful  tidings  that  she  should  conceive  and  bear  a  son,  that 
should  be  the  redeemer  of  mankind ;  and  she  did  so  forty  weeks 
after  this  joyful  salutation  ;  namely,  at  our  Christmas :  a  day  in 
which  we  commemorate  his  birth,  with  joy  and  praise ;  and  that 

6  Celebration  of  holidays.']  "In  the  year  1643,  the  ministers  of  the  city  of 
London  met  together  to  consult  whether  they  should  preach  on  the  Christ- 
mas-day following,  as  they  had  been  wont  to  do,  or  take  no  notice  at  all  of 
the  day.  One  of  them,  whom  I  shall  not  name,  of  great  authority  amongst 
them,  was  against  their  preaching,  and  was  very  near  prevailing  with  the  rest 
of  his  brethren  to  forbear.  Our  author  "  (Dr.  John  Lightfoot)  "  was  at  that 
meeting  (being  at  that  time  minister  at  St.  Bartholomew's  aforesaid),  who 
was  so  far  from  consenting  to  the  advice  of  that  person  who  gave  it,  that  he 
took  him  aside,  and  argued  the  point  with  him ;  and  did  not  only  maintain 
the  lawfulness  of  the  thing  in  question,  but  the  expedience  of  it  also :  and 
shewed  that  the  omitting  it  would  be  of  dangerous  consequence,  and  would 
reflect  very  much  upon  those  men  who  made  profession  of  no  other  design 
but  reforming  what  was  culpable  and  faulty.  In  a  word,  he  so  far  prevailed 
with  the  company,  that  when  it  was  put  to  the  question,  it  was  carried  in  the 
affirmative,  and  there  were  not  above  four  or  five  of  the  whole  who  dissented." 
Strype's  Life  of  Lightfoot,  prefixed  to  his  works,  p.  3.  See  also  Hooker's 
Ecclesiastical  Polity,  book  5,  c.  69.  The  first  distaste  of  the  celebration  of 
holy-days  in  the  church  of  England,  was  contracted  at  Geneva.  See  Good- 
man's How  to  obey,  A.D.  1558,  p.  158. 

f)  Appointed  to  beain.~\  "  I  shall  observe  (though  perhaps  every  body 
knows  it),  that  we  use  two  different  computations  in  this  nation,  viz.  the 
common  or  Julian,  which  begins  the  year  on  the  first  day  of  January ;  and 
the  ecclesiastical,  which  begins  the  year  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  March."  Ben- 
net's  Essay  on  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  p.  247.  On  this  subject  see  the  note 
at  vol.  ii.  pp.  491,  492. 


38  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

eight  days  after  this  happy  birth,  we  celebrate  his  circumcision ; 
namely,  that  day  which  we  call  New-year's  day.  And  that  upon 
that  day  which  we  call  Twelfth-day,  we  commemorate  the  mani- 
festation of  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Jesus  to  the  Gentiles :  and 
that  that  day  we  also  celebrate  the  memory  of  his  goodness  in 
sending  a  star  to  guide  the  three  wise  men  from  the  east  to 
Bethlem,  that  they  might  there  worship,  and  present  him  \\ith 
their  oblations  of  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh.  And  he  (Mr. 
Herbert)  instructed  them,  that  Jesus  was,  forty  days  after  his 
birth,  presented  by  his  blessed  mother  in  the  temple ;  namely, 
on  that  day  which  we  call  the  purification  of  the  blessed  virgin, 
saint  Mary.  And  he  instructed  them,  that  by  the  lent-fast,  we 
imitate  and  commemorate  our  Saviour's  humiliation  in  fasting 
forty  days ;  and,  that  we  ought  to  endeavour  to  be  like  him  in 
purity.  And,  that  on  Good-friday,  we  commemorate  and  con- 
dole his  crucifixion.  And,  at  Easter,  commemorate  his  glorious 
resurrection.  And  he  taught  them,  that  after  Jesus  had  mani- 
fested himself  to  his  disciples,  to  be  that  Christ  that  was  crucified, 
dead  and  buried;  and  by  his  appearing  and  conversing  with  lii.s 
disciples  for  the  space  of  forty  days  after  his  resurrection,  he  then, 
and  not  till  then,  ascended  into  heaven,  in  the  sight  of  those  disci- 
ples ;  namely,  on  that  day  which  we  call  the  ascension,  or  Holy 
Thursday.  And  that  we  then  celebrate  the  performance  of  the 
promise  which  he  made  to  his  disciples,  at  or  before  his  ascension ; 
namely,  that  though  he  left  them,  yet  he  would  send  them  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  be  their  comforter  ;  and  that  he  did  so  on  that  day  which 

the  church   calls  Whitsunday. Thus   the   church  keeps  an 

historical  and  circular  commemoration  of  times,  as  they  pass  by 
us ;  of  such  times,  as  ought  to  incline  us  to  occasional  praises, 
for  the  particular  blessings  which  we  do,  or  might  receive  by 
those  holy  commemorations. 

He  made  them  know  also,  why  the  church  hath  appointed 
ember-weeks ;  and,  to  know  the  reason  why  the  commandments, 
and  the  epistles  and  gospels  were  to  be  read  at  the  altar,  or  com- 
munion table :  why  the  priest  was  to  pray  the  litany  kneeling  ; 
and,  why  to  pray  some  collects  standing  ;  and  he  gave  them  many 
other  observations,  fit  for  his  plain  congregation,  but  not  fit  for 
me  now  to  mention ;  for,  I  must  set  limits  to  my  pen,  and  not 
make  that  a  treatise,  which  I  intended  to  be  a  much  shorter 
account  than  I  have  made  it. — But  I  have  done,  when  I  have 
told  the  reader  that  lie  was  constant  in  catechising  every  Sunday 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  39 

in  the  afternoon,  and  that  his  catechising  was  after  the  second 
lesson,  and  in  the  pulpit,  and  that  he  never  exceeded  his  half 
hour,  and  was  always  so  happy  as  to  have  an  obedient,  and  a  full 
congregation. 

And,  to  this  I  must  add,  that  if  he  were  at  any  time  too 
zealous  in  his  sermons,  it  was,  in  reproving  the  indecencies  of  the 
peopled  behaviour,  in  the  time  of  divine  service  ;  and  of  those 
ministers  that  huddled  up  the  church-prayers,  without  a  visible 
reverence  and  affection;  namely,  such  as  seemed  to  say  the 
Lord's  prayer,  or  a  collect,  in  a  breath ;  but  for  himself,  his 
custom  was.  to  stop  betwixt  every  collect,  and  give  the  people 
time  to  consider  what  they  had  prayed,  and  to  force  their 
desires  affectionately  to  God,  before  he  engaged  them  into  new 
petitions. 

And  by  this  account  of  his  diligence,  to  make  his  parishioners 
understand  what  they  prayed,  and  why  they  praised,  and  adored 
their  Creator,  I  hope  I  shall  the  more  easily  obtain  the  reader's 
belief  to  the  following  account  of  Mr.  Herbert's  own  practice, 
which  was,  to  appear  constantly  with  his  wife,  and  three  nieces 
(the  daughters  of  a  deceased  sister)  and  his  whole  family,  twice 
every  day  at  the  church-prayers,  in  the  chapel  which  does  almost 
join  to  his  parsonage-house.  And  for  the  time  of  his  appearing, 
it  was  strictly  at  the  canonical  hours  of  ten  and  four  ;  and  then 
and  there  he  lifted  up  pure  and  charitable  hands  to  God  in  the 
midst  of  the  congregation.  And  he  would  joy  to  have  spent  that 
time  in  that  place,  where  the  honour  of  his  master  Jesus  dwelleth ; 
and  there,  by  that  inward  devotion  which  he  testified  constantly 
by  an  humble  behaviour,  and  visible  adoration,  he,  like  Joshua, 
brought  not  only  Ms  own  /household  thus  to  serve  the  Lord ;  but 
brought  most  of  his  parishioners,  and  many  gentlemen  in  the 
neighbourhood,  constantly  to  make  a  part  of  his  congregation 
twice  a  day.  And  some  of  the  meaner  sort  of  his  parish,  did  so 
love  and  reverence  Mr.  Herbert,  that  they  would  let  their  plough 
rest  when  Mr.  Herbert's  saint's-bell  rung  to  prayers,  that  they 
might  also  offer  their  devotions  to  God  with  him  :  arid  would 
then  return  back  to  their  plough.  And  his  most  holy  life  was 
such,  that  it  begot  such  reverence  to  God,  and  to  him,  that  they 
thought  themselves  the  happier,  when  they  carried  Mr.  Herbert's 

blessing  back  with  them  to  their  labour. Thus  powerful  was 

his  reason,  and  example,  to  persuade  others  to  a  practical  piety 
and  devotion. 

And  his  constant  public  prayers  did  never  make  him  to  neglect 


40  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

his  own  private  devotions,  nor  those  prayers  that  he  thought  him- 
self bound  to  perform  with  his  family,  which  always  were  a  set 
form,  and  not  long ;  and  he  did  always  conclude  them  with  that 
collect  which  the  church  hath  appointed  for  the  day  or  week. — 
Thus  he  made  every  day's  sanctity  a  step  towards  that  kingdom 
where  impurity  cannot  enter. 

His  chiefest  recreation  was  music,  in  which  heavenly  art  he  was 
a  most  excellent  master,  and  did  himself  compose  many  divine 
hymns  and  anthems,  which  he  set  and  sung  to  his  lute  or  viol ; 
and,  though  he  was  a  lover  of  retiredness,  yet  his  love  to  music 
was  such,  that  he  went  usually  twice  every  week  on  certain 
appointed  days,  to  the  cathedral  church  in  Salisbury ;  and  at  his 
return  would  say,  "  That  his  time  spent  in  prayer,  and  cathedral 
music 7,  elevated  his  soul,  and  was  his  heaven  upon  earth."  But 
before  his  return  thence  to  Bemerton,  he  would  usually  sing  and 
play  his  part,  at  an  appointed  private  music-meeting;  and,  to 
justify  this  practice,  he  would  often  say,  "  Religion  does  not 
banish  mirth,  but  only  moderates,  and  sets  rules  to  it." 

And,  as  his  desire  to  enjoy  his  heaven  upon  earth  drew  him 
twice  every  week  to  Salisbury,  so  his  walks  thither  were  the 
occasion  of  many  happy  accidents  to  others :  of  which,  I  will 
mention  some  few. 

In  one  of  his  walks  to  Salisbury,  he  overtook  a  gentleman  that 
is  still  living  in  that  city,  and  in  their  walk  together,  Mr.  Her- 
bert took  a  fair  occasion  to  talk  with  him,  and  humbly  begged  to 
be  excused,  if  he  asked  him  some  account  of  his  faith,  and  said, 
"  I  do  this  the  rather,  because  though  you  are  not  of  my  parish, 
yet  I  receive  tythe  from  you  by  the  hand  of  your  tenant ;  and, 
sir,  I  am  the  bolder  to  do  it,  because  I  know  there  be  some 
sermon-hearers  that  be  like  those  fishes,  that  always  live  in  salt 
water,  and*yet  are  always  fresh." 

After  which  expression,  Mr.  Herbert  asked  him  some  needful 
questions,  and  having  received  his  answer,  gave  him  such  rules 
for  the  trial  of  his  sincerity,  and  for  a  practical  piety,  and  in  so 
loving  and  meek  a  manner,  that  the  gentleman  did  so  fall  in  love 
with  him,  and  his  discourse,  that  he  would  often  contrive  to 
meet  him  in  his  walk  to  Salisbury,  or  to  attend  him  back  to 
Bemerton ;  and  still  mentions  the  name  of  Mr.  George  Herbert 
with  veneration,  and  still  praiseth  God  for  the  occasion  of 
Knowing  him. 

1  Cathedral  music.']  See  above,  vol.  i.  p.  314,  note. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  41 

In  another  of  his  Salisbury  walks,  he  met  with  a  neighbour 
minister,  and  after  some  friendly  discourse  betwixt  them,  and 
some  condolement  for  the  decay  of  piety,  and  too  general  contempt 
of  the  clergy,  Mr.  Herbert  took  occasion  to  say, 

"  One  cure  for  these  distempers,  would  be  for  the  clergy 
themselves  to  keep  the  ember-weeks  8  strictly,  and  beg  of  their 
parishioners  to  join  with  them  in  fasting  and  prayers  for  a  more 
religious  clergy. 

"And  another  cure  would  be,  for  themselves  to  restore  the 
great  and  neglected  duty  of  catechizing  9,  on  which  the  salvation 
of  so  many  of  the  poor  and  ignorant  lay-people  does  depend  ;  but 
principally,  that  the  clergy  themselves  would  be  sure  to  live 
unblameably ;  and  that  the  dignified  clergy  especially,  which 
preach  temperance,  would  avoid  surfeiting,  and  take  all  occasions 
to  express  a  visible  humility,  and  charity  in  their  lives ;  for  this 
would  force  a  love  and  an  imitation,  and  an  unfeigned  reverence 
from  all  that  knew  them  to  be  such."  (And  for  proof  of  this,  we 
need  no  other  testimony,  than  the  life  and  death  of  Dr.  Lake  *, 
late  lord  bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.)  "This"  (said  Mr.  Her- 
bert) "  would  be  a  cure  for  the  wickedness  and  growing  atheism 
of  our  age.  And,  my  dear  brother,  till  this  be  done  by  us,  and 
done  in  earnest,  let  no  man  expect  a  reformation  of  the  manners 
of  the  laity  :  for  it  is  not  learning,  but  this,  this  only,  that  must 
do  it ;  and  till  then,  the  fault  must  lie  at  our  doors." 

In  another  walk  to  Salisbury,  he  saw  a  poor  man,  with  a 
poorer  horse,  that  was  fallen  under  his  load.  They  were  both  in 
distress,  and  needed  present  help  ;  which  Mr.  Herbert  perceiving, 
put  off  his  canonical  coat,  and  helped  the  poor  man  to  unload,  and 
after,  to  load  his  horse.  The  poor  man  blest  him  for  it ;  and  he 
blest  the  poor  man  ;  and  was  so  like  the  good  Samaritan,  that  he 
gave  him  money  to  refresh  both  himself  and  his  horse  ;  and  told 
him,  "  That  if  he  loved  himself,  he  should  be  merciful  to  his 

beast." Thus  he  left  the  poor  man,  and  at  his  coming  to  his 

musical  friends  at  Salisbury,  they  began  to  wonder  that  Mr. 
George  Herbert,  which  used  to  be  so  trim  and  clean,  came  into 

8  To  keep  the  ember-weeks."]    See  vol.  iii.  Life  of  Hooker,  p.  526,  or  Index, 
under  Ember-weeks. 

9  Duty  of  catechizing.']  See  above,  Life  of  Colet,vo\.  i.  p.  438,  n.     See  also 
Index,  under  Catechizing. 

1  Of  Dr.  Lake..']  See  a  Short  View  of  the  Life  and  Virtues  of  Dr.  Arthur 
Lake,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  prefixed  to  his  Sermons,  fol.  1 629. 


42  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

that  company  so  soiled  and  discomposed  ;  but  he  told  them  the 
occasion  :  and  when  one  of  the  company  told  him,  "  He  had  dis- 
paraged himself  by  so  dirty  an  employment ;"  his  answer  was, 
"  That  the  thought  of  what  he  had  done,  would  prove  music  to 
him  at  midnight ;  and  that  the  omission  of  it  would  have 
upbraided  and  made  discord  in  his  conscience,  whensoever  he 
should  pass  by  that  place ;  for,  if  I  be  bound  to  pray  for  all  that 
be  in  distress,  I  am  sure  that  I  am  bound  so  far  as  it  is  in  my 
power  to  practise  what  I  pray  for.  And  though  I  do  not  wish 
for  the  like  occasion  every  day,  yet  let  me  tell  you,  I  would  not 
willingly  pass  one  day  of  my  life  without  comforting  a  sad  soul, 
or  shewing  mercy  ;  and  I  praise  God  for  this  occasion : — and  now 
let's  tune  our  instruments." 

Thus,  as  our  blessed  Saviour  after  his  resurrection  did  take 
occasion  to  interpret  the  Scripture  to  Cleophas  and  that  other 
disciple,  which  he  met  with  and  accompanied  in  their  journey  to 
Emmaus ;  so  Mr.  Herbert,  in  his  path  toward  heaven,  did  daily 
take  any  fair  occasion  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  or  comfort  any 
that  were  in  affliction  ;  and  did  always  confirm  his  precepts, 
by  shewing  humility  and  mercy,  and  ministering  grace  to  the 
hearers. 

And  he  was  most  happy  in  his  wife's  unforced  compliance  with 
his  acts  of  charity,  whom  he  made  his  almoner,  and  paid  con- 
stantly into  her  hand  a  tenth  penny  of  what  money  he  received 
for  tythe,  and  gave  her  power  to  dispose  that  to  the  poor  of  his 
parish,  and  with  it  a  power  to  dispose  a  tenth  part  of  the  corn 
that  came  yearly  into  his  barn  ;  which  trust  she  did  most  faith- 
fully perform,  and  would  often  offer  to  him  an  account  of  her  stew- 
ardship, and  as  often  beg  an  enlargement  of  his  bounty,  for  she 
rejoiced  in  the  employment ;  and  this  was  usually  laid  out  by  her 
in  blankets  and  shoes,  for  some  such  poor  people,  as  she  knew  to 
stand  in  most  need  of  them.  This,  as  to  her  charity. — And  for 
his  own,  he  set  no  limits  to  it ;  nor  did  ever  turn  his  face  from 
any  that  he  saw  in  want,  but  would  relieve  them;  especially  his 
poor  neighbours  ;  to  the  meanest  of  whose  houses  he  would  go 
and  inform  himself  of  their  wants,  and  relieve  them  cheerfully  if 
they  were  in  distress,  and,  would  always  praise  God,  as  much  for 

being  willing,  as  for  being  able  to  do  it. And,  when  he  was 

advised  by  a  friend  to  be  more  frugal,  because  he  might  have 
children.  lii>  answer  was,  "  He  would  not  sec  the  danger  of  want 
BO  far  nfV.  luit.  ln-in^  the  Scripture  does  so  commend  clmrit; 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  43 

to  tell  us,  that  charity  is  the  top  of  Christian  virtues,  the  covering 
of  sins,  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  the  life  of  faith  :  and  that  charity 
hath  a  promise  of  the  blessings  of  this  life,  and  of  a  reward  in 
that  life  which  is  to  come ;  being  these,  and  more  excellent 
things  are  in  Scripture  spoken  of  thee,  O  charity,  and  that, 
being  all  my  tithes,  and  church-dues,  are  a  deodate  from  thee, 
0  my  God  !  make  me,  O  my  God,  so  far  to  trust  thy  promise,  as 
to  return  them  back  to  thee  ;  and,  by  thy  grace,  I  will  do  so,  in 
distributing  them  to  any  of  thy  poor  members  that  are  in 
distress,  or  do  but  bear  the  image  of  Jesus  my  master.  Sir," 
(said  he  to  his  friend)  "  my  wife  hath  a  competent  mainte- 
nance secured  her  after  my  death,  and  therefore  as  this  is 
my  prayer,  so  this  my  resolution  shall  by  God's  grace  be 
unalterable." 

This  may  be  some  account  of  the  excellencies  of  the  active 
part 2  of  his  life ;  and,  thus  he  continued,  till  a  consumption  so 
weakened  him,  as  to  confine  him  to  his  house,  or  to  the  chapel, 
which  does  almost  join  to  it;  in  which  he  continued  to  read 
prayers  constantly  twice  every  day,  though  he  were  very  weak ; 
in  one  of  which  times  of  his  reading,  his  wife  observed  him  to 
read  in  pain,  and  told  him  so,  and,  that  it  wasted  his  spirits,  and 
weakened  him :  and  he  confessed  it  did,  but  said,  "  His  life  could 
not  be  better  spent,  than  in  the  service  of  his  master  Jesus,  who 
had  done  and  suffered  so  much  for  him.  But,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
not  be  wilful :  for  though  my  spirit  be  willing,  yet  I  find  my  flesh 
is  weak ;  and  therefore  Mr.  Bostock  shall  be  appointed  to  read 
prayers  for  me  to-morrow,  and  I  will  now  be  only  a  hearer  of 
them,  till  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality."  And  Mr.  Bostock 
did  the  next  day  undertake  and  continue  this  happy  employment, 

till  Mr.  Herbert's  death. This  Mr.  Bostock  was  a  learned  and 

virtuous  man,  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Herbert's  and  then  his  curate 
to  the  church  of  Fulston,  which  is  a  mile  from  Bemerton,  to 

which  church  Bemerton  is  but  a  chapel  of  ease. And  this 

Mr.  Bostock  did  also  constantly  supply  the  church  service  for 
Mr.  Herbert  in  that  chapel,  when  the  music-meeting  at  Salisbury 
caused  his  absence  from  it. 

About  one  month  before  his  death,  his  friend  Mr.  Farrer  (for 
an  account  of  whom  I  am  by  promise  indebted  to  the  reader,  and 
intend  to  make  him  sudden  payment)  hearing  of  Mr.  Herbert's 

-  The  active  part.~\  "His  time  he  ever  measured  by  the  pulse,  that  native 
watch  which  God  has  set  in  every  one  of  us."  Life  by  Barnabas  Oley. 


44  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

sickness,  sent  Mr.  Edmund  Duncon  (who  is  now  rector  of  Fryer 
Barnet  in  the  county  of  Middlesex)  from  his  house  of  Gidden-hall, 
which  is  near  to  Huntingdon,  to  see  Mr.  Herbert,  and  to  assure 
him,  he  wanted  not  his  daily  prayers  for  his  recovery ;  and,  Mr. 
Duncon  was  to  return  back  to  Gidden,  with  an  account  of  Mr. 
Herbert's  condition.  Mr.  Duncon  found  him  weak,  and  at  that 
time  lying  on  his  bed,  or  on  a  pallat ;  but  at  his  seeing  Mr.  Dun- 
con,  he  raised  himself  vigorously,  saluted  him,  and  with  some 
earnestness  enquired  the  health  of  his  brother  Farrer ;  of  which 
Mr.  Duncon  satisfied  him ;  and  after  some  discourse  of  Mr.  Far- 
rer's  holy  life,  and  the  manner  of  his  constant  serving  God,  he 

said  to  Mr.  Duncon u  Sir,  I  see  by  your  habit  that  you  are  a 

priest,  and  I  desire  you  to  pray  with  me ;"  which  being  granted, 
Mr.  Duncon  asked  him  "  what  prayers  f  to  which,  Mr.  Herbert's 
answer  was,  "  0  sir,  the  prayers  of  my  mother,  the  church  of 
England,  no  other  prayers  are  equal  to  them  !  but,  at  this  time, 
I  beg  of  you  to  pray  only  the  Litany,  for  I  am  weak  and  faint ;" 
and  Mr.  Duncon  did  so.  After  which,  and  some  other  discourse 
of  Mr.  Farrer,  Mrs.  Herbert  provided  Mr.  Duncon  a  plain  sup- 
per, and  a  clean  lodging,  and  he  betook  himself  to  rest. — This 
Mr.  Duncon  tells  me ;  and  tells  me,  that  at  his  first  view  of  Mr. 
Herbert,  he  saw  majesty  and  humility  so  reconciled  in  his  looks 
and  behaviour,  as  begot  in  him  an  awful  reverence  for  his  person  ; 
and  says,  "  his  discourse  was  so  pious,  and  his  motion  so  gentle 
and  meek,  that  after  almost  forty  years,  yet  they  remain  still  fmsh 
in  his  memory." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Duncon  left  him,  and  betook  himself  to 
a  journey  to  Bath,  but  with  a  promise  to  return  back  to  him 
within  five  days,  and  he  did  so ;  but  before  I  shall  say  any  thing 
of  what  discourse  then  fell  betwixt  them  two,  I  will  pay  my  pro- 
mised account  of  Mr.  Farrer. 

Mr.  Nicholas  Farrer  (who  got  the  reputation  of  being  called 
saint  Nicholas,  at  the  age  of  six  years)  was  born  in  London,  and 
doubtless  had  good  education  in  his  youth ;  but  certainly,  was  at 
an  early  age  made  fellow  of  Clare-hall  in  Cambridge,  where  he 
continued  to  be  eminent  for  his  piety,  temperance,  and  learning. 

About  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  he  betook  himself  to 

tr.ml;  in  which  he  added  to  his  Latin  and  Greek,  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  all  the  languages  spoken  in  the  western  parts  of 
our  Christian  world  ;  and  understood  well  the  principles  of  their 
religion,  and  of  their  manner,  and  the  reasons  of  their  worship. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  45 

—In  this  his  travel  he  met  with  many  persuasions  to  come  into 
a  communion  with  that  church  which  calls  itself  catholic  :  but,  he 
returned  from  his  travels  as  he  went,  eminent  for  his  obedience  to 
his  mother,  the  church  of  England.  In  his  absence  from  England, 
Mr.  Farrer's  father  (who  was  a  merchant)  allowed  him  a  liberal 
maintenance ;  and  not  long  after  his  return  into  England,  Mr. 
Farrer  had  by  the  death  of  his  father,  or  an  elder  brother,  or 
both,  an  estate  left  him,  that  enabled  him  to  purchase  land  to  the 
value  of  4  or  500£.  a  year ;  the  greatest  part  of  which  land  was  at 
Little  Gidden 3,  four  or  six  miles  from  Huntingdon,  and  about 
eighteen  from  Cambridge  :  which  place,  he  chose  for  the  privacy 
of  it,  and  for  the  hall,  which  had  the  parish  church,  or  chapel  be- 
longing, and  adjoining  near  to  it ;  for,  Mr.  Farrer  having  seen 
the  manners  and  vanities  of  the  world,  and  found  them  to  be,  as 
Mr.  Herbert  says,  "  a  nothing  between  two  dishes ;"  did  so  con- 
temn it,  that  he  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
mortifications,  and  in  devotion,  and  charity,  and  to  be  always 
prepared  for  death. And  his  life  was  spent  thus. 

He,  and  his  family,  which  were  like  a  little  college,  and  about 
thirty  in  number,  did  most  of  them  keep  Lent,  and  all  ember- 
weeks  strictly,  both  in  fasting,  and  using  all  those  mortifications 
and  prayers  that  the  church  hath  appointed  to  be  then  used  : 
and  he  and  they  did  the  like  constantly  on  Fridays,  and  on  the 
vigils,  or  eves  appointed  to  be  fasted  before  the  saints-days :  and 
this  frugality  and  abstinence  turned  to  the  relief  of  the  poor :  but 
this  was  but  a  part  of  his  charity,  none  but  God  and  he  knew 
the  rest. 

This  family,  which  I  have  said  to  be  in  number  about  thirty, 
were  a  part  of  them  his  kindred,  and  the  rest  chosen  to  be  of  a 
temper  fit  to  be  moulded  into  a  devout  life  ;  and  all  of  them  were 
for  their  dispositions  serviceable  and  quiet,  and  humble,  and  free 
from  scandal.  Having  thus  fitted  himself  for  his  family,  he  did 
about  the  year  1 630,  betake  himself  to  a  constant  and  methodical 
service  of  God,  and  it  was  in  this  manner. He  being  accom- 
panied with  most  of  his  family,  did  himself  use  to  read  the 
common  prayers  (for  he  was  a  deacon)  every  day  at  the  appointed 
hours  of  ten  and  four,  in  the  parish  church  which  was  very  near 
his  house,  and  which  he  had  both  repaired  and  adorned ;  for  it 
was  fallen  into  a  great  ruin,  by  reason  of  a  depopulation  of  the 

3  Little  Gidden.']  About  four  or  five  miles  from  Leighton. 


46  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

village  before  Mr.  Farrer  bought  the  manor;  and,  he  did  also 
constantly  read  the  mattins  every  morning  at  the  hour  of  six, 
either  in  the  church,  or  in  an  oratory,  which  was  within  his  own 
house :  and  many  of  the  family  did  there  continue  with  him  after 
the  prayers  were  ended,  and  there  they  spent  some  hours  in 
singing  hymns,  or  anthems,  sometimes  in  the  church,  and  often 
to  an  organ  in  the  oratory.  And  there  they  sometimes  betook 
themselves  to  meditate,  or  to  pray  privately,  or  to  read  a  part  of 
the  New  Testament  to  themselves,  or  to  continue  their  praying 
or  reading  the  psalms :  and,  in  case  the  psalms  were  not  always 
read  in  the  day,  then  Mr.  Farrer,  and  others  of  the  congrega- 
tion, did  at  night,  at  the  ring  of  a  watch-bell,  repair  to  the 
church  or  oratory,  and  there  betake  themselves  to  prayers,  and 
lauding  God,  and  reading  the  psalms  that  had  not  been  read  in 
the  day ;  and,  when  these,  or  any  part  of  the  congregation  grew 
weary,  or  faint,  the  watch-bell  was  rung,  sometimes  before,  and 
sometimes  after  midnight :  and  then  another  part  of  the  family 
rose,  and  maintained  the  watch,  sometimes  by  praying,  or  singing 
lauds  to  God,  or  reading  the  psalms  :  and  when  after  some  hours 
they  also  grew  weary  or  faint,  they  rung  the  watch-bell,  and 
were  also  relieved  by  some  of  the  former,  or  by  a  new  part  of  the 
society,  which  continued  their  devotions,  (as  hath  been  mentioned) 

until  morning. And  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  in  this  continued 

serving  of  God,  the  psalter,  or  whole  book  of  psalms,  was  in 
every  four  and  twenty  hours,  sung  or  read  over,  from  the  first  to 
the  last  verse :  and  this  was  done  as  constantly,  as  the  sun  runs 
his  circle  every  day  about  the  world,  and  then  begins  again  the 
same  instant  that  it  ended. 

Thus  did  Mr.  Farrer,  and  his  happy  family,  serve  God  da\ 
and  night:  thus  did  they  always  behave  themselves,  as  in  his 
presence.  And,  they  did  always  eat  and  drink  by  the  strictest 
rules  of  temperance ;  eat  and  drink  so,  as  to  be  ready  to  rise  at 
midnight,  or  at  the  call  of  a  watch-bell,  and  perform  their  d 

tions  to  God. And  it  is  fit  to  tell  the  reader  that  many  of 

the  clergy  that  were  more  inclined  to  practical  piety,  and  devo- 
tiim.  than  to  doubtful  and  needless  disputations,  did  often  come 
to  Gidden-liall.  and  make  themselves  a  part  of  that  happy  society, 
and  stay  a  week  or  more,  and  then  join  with  Mr.  Farn-r.  and  the 
family  in  these  devotions,  and  assist  and  ease  him  or  them  in 
their  watch  by  ni^ht  ;  and  tli«-r  \.-mm.is  drvntimis  had  n- 

;han  tunnfth.-  d«»nn--tir  family  in  the  ni^ht  ;   and  the  \\atch 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  47 

was  always  kept  in  the  church  or  oratory,  unless  in  extreme  cold 
winter  nights,  and  then  it  was  maintained  in  a  parlour  which  had 
a  fire  in  it ;  and  the  parlour  was  fitted  for  that  purpose  ;  and 
this  course  of  piety,  and  great  liberality  to  his  poor  neighbours, 
Mr.  Farrer  maintained  till  his  death,  which  was  in  the  year 
1639. 

Mr.  Farrer's,  and  Mr.  Herbert's  devout  lives,  were  both  so 
noted,  that  the  general  report  of  their  sanctity,  gave  them  occa- 
sion to  renew  that  slight  acquaintance  which  was  begun  at  their 
being  contemporaries  in  Cambridge ;  and  this  new  holy  friend-- 
ship was  long  maintained  without  any  interview,  but  only  by 
loving  and  endearing  letters.  And,  one  testimony  of  their 
friendship  and  pious  designs  may  appear  by  Mr.  Farcer's  com- 
mending the  Considerations  of  John  Valdesso 4  (a  book  which  he 
had  met  with  in  his  travels,  and  translated  out  of  Spanish  into 
English)  to  be  examined  and  censured  by  Mr.  Herbert  before  it 
was  made  public  ;  which  excellent  book  Mr.  Herbert  did  read, 
and  return  back  with  many  marginal  notes,  as  they  be  now 
printed  with  it :  and  with  them,  Mr.  Herbert's  affectionate 
letter  to  Mr.  Farrer. 

This  John  Valdesso  was  a  Spaniard,  and  was  for  fiis  learning 
and  virtue  much  valued  and  loved  by  the  great  emperor  Charles 
the  fifth,  whom  Valdesso  had  followed  as  a  cavalier  all  the  time 
of  his  long  and  dangerous  wars ;  and  when  Valdesso  grew  old, 

4  John  Valdesso.~\  Juan  Valdes,  a  noble  Spaniard,  knighted  by  Charles  V., 
was  one  of  the  first  who  introduced  the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  into 
Naples.  He  died  there  in  1540.  The  original  Spanish  text  of  his  "  Considera- 
tions "  has  never  been  printed.  An  Italian  version  of  the  work,  (by  whom 
made  is  uncertain,)  was  taken  to  Basle  by  Pietro  Paolo  Vergerio,  when  he 
threw  up  his  bishopric  of  Capo  d'Istria,  in  order  to  join  the  reformed  church, 
and  it  was  placed  by  him  in  the  hands  of  Celio  Secondo  Curione,  who  added 
a  preface,  and  published  it  at  Basle  in  1550.  Another  edition  was  printed  at 
Lyons  in  1563.  From  the  Italian  it  was  translated  into  French  by  C.  K. 
(Claude  de  Kerquifinem,)  and  printed  at  Paris  in  1565.  In  the  French  version 
the  author's  name  is  turned  into  "  Jean  de  Val  de  d'Esso."  Nicholas  Farrer's 
English  version  was  made  from  the  Italian,  and,  with  a  preface  by  Dr.  Jack- 
son, was  printed  at  Oxford,  by  L.  Lichfield,  in  1638,  in  4to.  Copies  of  the 
English  translation  are  in  the  Bodleian  and  Sion  College  libraries.  The 
Bodleian  and  the  British  Museum  possess  the  first  Italian  edition,  and  the 
Bodleian  has  also  the  French  translation.  It  may  be  remarked  as  singular, 
that  at  the  present  time,  (1852)  when  so  many  books  have  been  reprinted,  a 
work  translated  by  Nicholas  Farrer,  having  notes  by  George  Herbert,  and  a 
preface  by  Thomas  Jackson,  should  have  remained  unnoticed. 


48  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

and  grew  weary  both  of  war  and  the  world,  he  took  his  fair 
opportunity  to  declare  to  the  emperor,  that  his  resolution  was  to 
decline  his  majesty's  service,  and  betake  himself  to  a  quiet  and 
contemplative  life,  because  there  ought  to  be  a  vacancy  of  time 

betwixt  fighting  and  dying. The  emperor  had  himself,  for 

the  same,  or  other  like  reasons,  put  on  the  same  resolution :  but, 
God  and  himself  did,  till  then,  only  know  them;  and  he  did 
therefore  desire  Valdesso  to  consider  well  of  what  he  had  said, 
and  to  keep  his  purpose  within  his  own  breast,  till  they  two  might 
have  a  second  opportunity  of  a  friendly  discourse :  which  Val- 
desso promised  to  do. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  emperor  appoints  privately  a  day  for 
him  and  Valdesso  to  meet  again,  and,  after  a  pious  and  free  dis- 
course they  both  agreed  on  a  certain  day  to  receive  the  blessed 
sacrament  publicly :  and,  appointed  an  eloquent  and  devout  friar, 
to  preach  a  sermon  of  contempt  of  the  world,  and  of  the  hap- 
piness and  benefit  of  a  quiet  and  contemplative  life ;  which  the 

friar  did  most  affectionately. After  which  sermon,  the  emperor 

took  occasion  to  declare  openly,  "  That  the  preacher  had  begot 
in  him  a  resolution  to  lay  down  his  dignities,  and  to  forsake  the 
world,  and  betake  himself  to  a  monastical  life."  And,  he  pre- 
tended, he  had  persuaded  John  Valdesso  to  do  the  like ;  but  this 
is  most  certain,  that  after  the  emperor  had  called  his  son  Philip 
out  of  England,  and  resigned  to  him  all  his  kingdoms,  that  then 
the  emperor,  and  John  Valdesso  did  perform  their  resolutions. 

This  account  of  John  Valdesso  I  received  from  a  friend,  that 
had  it  from  the  mouth  of  Mr.  Farrer :  and,  the  reader  may  note, 
that  in  this  retirement,  John  Valdesso  writ  his  one  hundred  and 
ten  considerations,  and  many  other  treatises  of  worth,  which  want 
a  second  Mr.  Farrer  to  procure,  and  translate  them. 

After  this  account  of  Mr.  Farrer,  and  John  Valdesso,  I 
proceed  to  my  account  of  Mr.  Herbert,  and  Mr.  Duncon,  who. 
according  to  his  promise,  returned  from  the  Bath  the  fifth  day, 
ami  then  found  Mr.  Herbert  much  weaker  than  he  left  him  :  and 
therefore  the  discourse  could  not  be  long;  but  at  Mr.  Duncon's 

parting  with  him,  Mr.  Herbert  spoke  to  this  purpose "  Sir, 

I  pray  give  my  brother  Farrer  an  account  of  the  decaying  con- 
dition of  my  body,  and  tell  him,  I  beg  him  to  continue  his  daily 
prayers  for  me:  and,  let  him  know,  that  I  have  considered,  That 
God  only  is  what  In-  would  he;  and.  that  I  am  by  his  gran- 
me  now  v«.  like  him.  as  to  be  pl.--a>ed  \\ith  what  pleas.-th 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  49 

him ;  and  tell  him,  that  I  do  not  repine  but  am  pleased  with  my 
want  of  health ;  and  tell  him,  my  heart  is  fixed  on  that  place 
where  true  joy  is  only  to  be  found,  and,  that  I  long  to  be  there, 
and  do  wait  for  my  appointed  change  with  hope  and  patience." 
Having  said  this,  he  did  with  so  sweet  a  humility  as  seemed  to 
exalt  him,  bow  down  to  Mr.  Duncon,  and  with  a  thoughtful  and 

contented  look,  say  to  him "  Sir,  I  pray  deliver  this  little 

book  to  my  dear  brother  Farrer,  and  tell  him,  he  shall  find  in  it 
a  picture  of  the  many  spiritual  conflicts  that  have  past  betwixt 
God  and  my  soul,  before  I  could  subject  mine  to  the  will  of  Jesus 
my  master ;  in  whose  service  I  have  now  found  perfect  freedom  : 
desire  him  to  read  it ;  and  then,  if  he  can  think  it  may  turn  to 
the  advantage  of  any  dejected  poor  soul,  let  it  be  made  public : 
if  not,  let  him  burn  it :  for,  I  and  it  are  less  than  the  least  of 

God's  mercies." Thus  meanly  did  this  humble  man  think  of 

this  excellent  book,  which  now  bears  the  name  of  THE  TEMPLE  : 
or,  Sacred  Poems,  and  Private  Ejaculations  ;  of  which,  Mr.  Farrer 
would  say,  "  There  was  in  it  the  picture  of  a  divine  soul  in  every 
page ;  and,  that  the  whole  book  was  such  a  harmony  of  holy 
passions,  as  would  enrich  the  world  with  pleasure  and  piety.11 
And,  it  appears  to  have  done  so :  for  there  have  been  more  than 
twenty  thousand  of  them  sold  since  the  first  impression. 

And  this  ought  to  be  noted,  that  when  Mr.  Farrer  sent  this 
book  to  Cambridge  to  be  licensed  for  the  press,  the  vice-chancellor 
would  by  no  means  allow  the  two  so  much  noted  verses, 

"  Religion  stands  a  tip-toe  in  our  land, 
Ready  to  pass 5  to  the  American  strand," 

5  Ready  to  pass.]  "  Now,  I  beseech  you,  let  me  know  what  your  opinion 
is  of  our  English  plantations  in  the  New  World.  Heretofore  I  have  won- 
dered in  my  thoughts  at  the  providence  of  God  concerning  that  world,  not 
discovered  till  this  old  world  of  ours  is  almost  at  an  end ;  and  then  no  foot- 
steps found  of  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God,  much  less  of  Christ.  And 
then  considering  our  English  plantations  of  late,  and  the  opinion  of  many 
grave  divines  concerning  the  Gospel's  fleeting  westward,  sometimes  I  have  had 
such  thoughts,  why  may  not  that  be  the  place  of  New  Jerusalem  ?  But  you 
have  handsomely  and  fully  cleared  me  from  such  odd  conceits.  But  what  ? 
I  pray  you,  shall  our  English  there  degenerate  and  join  themselves  with  Gog 
and  Magog.  We  have  heard  lately  divers  ways,  that  our  people  there  have  no 
hope  of  the  conversion  of  the  natives.  And  the  very  week  after  I  received 
your  last  letter,  I  saw  a  letter  written  from  New  England,  discoursing  of  an 
impossibility  of  subsisting  there;  and  seems  to  prefer  the  confession  of  God's 
truth  in  any  condition  here  in  Old  England  father  than  run  over  to  enjoy 

VOL.   IV.  E 


50  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

to  be  printed ;  and  Mr.  Farrer  would  by  no  means  allow  the 
book  to  be  printed,  and  want  them.  But  after  some  time,  and 
some  arguments,  for  and  against  their  being  made  public,  the 
vice-chancellor  said,  "  I  knew  Mr.  Herbert  well,  and  know  that 
he  had  many  heavenly  speculations,  and  was  a  divine  poet,  but,  I 
hope  the  world  will  not  take  him  to  be  an  inspired  prophet,  and 
therefore  I  licence  the  whole  book."  So  that  it  came  to  be 
printed,  without  the  diminution  or  addition  of  a  syllable,  since  it 
was  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Duncon,  save  only,  that  Mr. 
Farrer  hath  added  that  excellent  preface  that  is  printed,  be- 
fore it. 

At  the  time  of  Mr.  Duncon*s  leaving  Mr.  Herbert,  (which  was 
about  three  weeks  before  his  death)  his  old  and  dear  friend  Mr. 
Woodnot  came  from  London  to  Bemerton,  and  never  left  him, 
till  he  had  seen  him  draw  his  last  breath ;  and  closed  his  eyes  on 
his  death-bed.  In  this  time  of  his  decay,  he  was  often  visited  and 
prayed  for  by  all  the  clergy  that  lived  near  to  him,  especially  by 
his  friends  the  bishop  and  prebends  of  the  cathedral  church  in 
Salisbury ;  but  by  none  more  devoutly  than  his  wife,  his  three 
nieces  (then  a  part  of  his  family)  and  Mr.  Woodnot,  who  were 
the  sad  witnesses  of  his  daily  decay ;  to  whom  he  would  often 

speak  to  this  purpose. u  I  now  look  back  upon  the  pleasures 

of  my  life  past,  and  see  the  content  I  have  taken  in  beauty,  in 
wit,  in  music,  and  pleasant  conversation,  are  now  all  past  by  me, 
like  a  dream,  or  as  a  shadow  that  returns  not,  and  are  now  all 
become  dead  to  me,  or  I  to  them ;  and  I  see  that  as  my  father 
and  generation  hath  done  before  me,  so  I  also  shall  now  suddenly 
(with  Job)  make  my  led  also  in  the  dark ;  and,  I  praise  God  I  am 
prepared  for  it ;  and  I  praise  him,  that  I  am  not  to  learn  patience, 
now  I  stand  in  such  need  of  it ;  and,  that  I  have  practised  mor- 
tification, and  endeavoured  to  die  daily,  that  I  might  not  die 
eternally ;  and,  my  hope  is,  that  I  shall  shortly  leave  this  valley 

their  liberty  there  :  yea,  and  that  the  Gospel  is  likely  to  be  more  dear  in  New 
England  than  in  Old  :  and  lastly,  unless  they  be  exceeding  careful,  and  God 
wonderfully  merciful,  they  are  like  to  lose  that  life  and  zeal  for  God  and  his 
truth  in  New  England,  which  they  enjoyed  in  Old :  as  whereof  they  have 
already  woeful  experience,  and  many  there  feel  it  to  their  smart."  Letter 
of  Dr'.  W.  Twisse  to  Joseph  Mede,  dated  March  2,  1634.  Mede's  Works, 
p.  799. 

Barnabas  Oley,  in  his  Life  of  Herbert,  referring  to  the  same  lines,  says, 
"  I  pray  God  he  may  prove  a  true  prophet  for  poor  America,  not  nyainst  poor 
England." 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  ol 

of  tears,  and  be  free  from  all  fevers  and  pain :  and,  which  will  be 
a  more  happy  condition,  I  shall  be  free  from  sin,  and  all  the 
temptations  and  anxieties  that  attend  it ;  and  this  being  past,  I 
shall  dwell  in  the  new  Jerusalem,  dwell  there  with  men  made 
perfect ;  dwell,  where  these  eyes  shall  see  my  master  and  Saviour 
Jesus ;  and,  with  him  see  my  dear  mother,  and  all  my  relations 

and  friends. But  I  must  die,  or  not  come  to  that  happy  place. 

And,  this  is  my  content,  that  I  am  going  daily  towards  it ;  and, 
that  every  day  which  I  have  lived  hath  taken  a  part  of  my  ap- 
pointed time  from  me ;  and,  that  I  shall  live  the  less  time,  for, 
having  lived  this,  and  the  day  past." — —These  and  the  like 
expressions,  which  he  uttered  often,  may  be  said  to  be  his  enjoy- 
ment of  heaven,  before  he  enjoyed  it. The  Sunday  before  his 

death,  he  rose  suddenly  from  his  bed  or  couch,  called  for  one  of 
his  instruments,  took  it  into  his  hand,  and  said 

"  My  God,  my  God, 
My  music  shall  find  thee, 

And  every  string 
Shall  have  his  attribute  to  sing." 

And  having  tuned  it,  he  played  and  sung : 

"  The  Sundays  of  man's  life, 

Threaded  together  on  time's  string, 
Make  bracelets,  to  adorn  the  wife 

Of  the  eternal,  glorious  King  : 
On  Sundays,  heaven's  door  stands  ope ; 

Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife, 
More  plentiful  than  hope." 

Thus  he  sung  on  earth  such  hymns  and  anthems  as  the  angels 
and  he,  and  Mr.  Farrer,  now  sing  in  heaven. 

Thus  he  continued  meditating  and  praying,  and  rejoicing,  till 
the  day  of  his  death ;  and  on  that  day,  said  to  Mr.  Woodnot, 
"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  sorry  I  have  nothing  to  present  to  my 
merciful  God  but  sin  and  misery  ;  but  the  first  is  pardoned :  and 
a  few  hours  will  now  put  a  period  to  the  latter ;  for  I  shall  sud- 
denly go  hence  and  be  no  more  seen."  Upon  which  expression, 
Mr.  Woodnot  took  occasion  to  remember  him  of  the  re-edifying 
Layton  church,  and  his  many  acts  of  mercy ;  to  which  he  made 
answer,  saying,  "  They  be  good  works,  if  they  be  sprinkled  with 
the  blood  of  Christ,  and  not  otherwise."  After  this  discourse  he 
became  more  restless,  and  his  soul  seemed  to  be  weary  of  her 
earthly  tabernacle ;  and  this  uneasiness  became  so  visible,  that 

K  2 


52  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

his  wife,  his  three  nieces,  and  Mr.  Woodnot,  stood  constantly 
about  his  bed,  beholding  him  with  sorrow,  and  an  unwillingness 
to  lose  the  sight  of  him  whom  they  could  not  hope  to  see  much 

longer. As  they  stood  thus  beholding  him,  his  wife  observed 

him  to  breathe  faintly,  and  with  much  trouble  ;  and  observed  him 
to  fall  into  a  sudden  agony ;  which  so  surprised  her,  that  she  fell 
into  a  sudden  passion,  and  required  of  him  to  know,  "  how  he 
did  f  to  which  his  answer  was,  "  That  he  had  past  a  conflict  with 
his  last  enemy,  and  had  overcome  him,  by  the  merits  of  his  master 
Jesus."  After  which  answer,  he  looked  up,  and  saw  his  wife  and 
nieces  weeping  to  an  extremity,  and  charged  them,  u  If  they 
loved  him,  to  withdraw  into  the  next  room,  and  there  pray  every 
one  alone  for  him,  for  nothing  but  their  lamentations  could  make 
his  death  uncomfortable.1'*  To  which  request,  their  sighs  and 
tears  would  not  suffer  them  to  make  any  reply :  but  they  yielded 
him  a  sad  obedience,  leaving  only  with  him,  Mr.  Woodnot,  and 
Mr.  Bostock.  Immediately  after  they  had  left  him,  he  said  to 
Mr.  Bostock,  "  Pray  sir  open  that  door,  then  look  into  that 
cabinet,  in  which  you  may  easily  find  my  last  will,  and  give  it  into 
my  hand ;"  which  being  done  Mr.  Herbert  delivered  it  into  the 
hand  of  Mr.  Woodnot,  and  said,  "  My  old  friend,  I  here  deliver 
you  my  last  will,  in  which  you  will  find  that  I  have  made  you  my 
sole  executor  for  the  good  of  my  wife  and  nieces ;  and  I  desire  you 
to  shew  kindness  to  them,  as  they  shall  need  it.  I  do  not  desire 
you  to  be  just :  for,  I  know  you  will  be  so  for  your  own  sake ; 
but,  I  charge  you,  by  the  religion  of  our  friendship,  to  be  careful 
of  them.1'  And  having  obtained  Mr.  Woodnot^s  promise  to  be 
so ;  he  said,  "  I  am  now  ready  to  die :"  after  which  words  he 
said,  "  Lord,  forsake  me  not  now  my  strength  faileth  me :  but 
grant  me  mercy  for  the  merits  of  my  Jesus ;  and  now  Lord, 
Lord  now  receive  my  soul.11  And  with  those  words  he  breathed 
forth  his  divine  soul,  without  any  apparent  disturbance:  Mr. 
Woodnot,  and  Mr.  Bostock,  attending  his  last  breath,  and  closing 
his  eyes. 

Thus  he  lived,  and  thus  he  died  like  a  saint,  unspotted  of  the 
world,  full  of  alms-deeds,  full  of  humility,  and  all  the  examples  of 
a  virtuous  life;  which  I  cannot  conclude  better,  than  with  this 
borrowed  observation  : 

"...  All  must  to  their  cold  graves ; 
But  the  religious  actions  of  the  just, 
Smell  sweet  in  death,  and  blossom  in  the  dust." 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  53 

Mr.  George  Herbert's  have  done  so  to  this,  and  will  doubtless 

do  so  to  succeeding  generations. 1  have  but  this  to  say  more 

of  him :   that  if  Andrew  Melvin  died  before  him,  then  George 

Herbert  died  without  an  enemy. 1  wish  (if  God  shall  be  so 

pleased)  that  I  may  be  so  happy  as  to  die  like  him. 

Iz.  WA. 

There  is  a  debt  justly  due  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Herbert's 
virtuous  wife ;  a  part  of  which  I  will  endeavour  to  pay,  by  a  very 
short  account  of  the  remainder  of  her  life,  which  shall  follow. 

She  continued  his  disconsolate  widow  about  six  years,  bemoan- 
ing herself,  and  complaining,  "  that  she  had  lost  the  delight  of  her 
eyes,"  but  more  "  that  she  had  lost  the  spiritual  guide  for  her  pool- 
soul  ;"  and  would  often  say,  "  0  that  I  had  like  holy  Mary,  the 
mother  of  Jesus,  treasured  up  all  his  sayings  in  my  heart :  but 
since  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  that,  I  will  labour  to  live  like 
him,  that  where  he  now  is,  1  may  be  also."  And  she  would  often 
say  (as  the  prophet  David  for  his  son  Absalom)  0  that  Iliad  died 
for  him !  Thus  she  continued  mourning,  till  time  and  conversa- 
tion had  so  moderated  her  sorrows,  that  she  became  the  happy 
wife  of  sir  Robert  Cook  of  Highnam  in  the  county  of  Gloucester 
knight :  and  though  he  put  a  high  value  on  the  excellent  accom- 
plishments of  her  mind  and  body ;  and  was  so  like  Mr.  Herbert, 
as  not  to  govern  like  a  master,  but  as  an  affectionate  husband ; 
yet,  she  would  even  to  him  often  take  occasion  to  mention  the 
name  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,  and  say,  "  That  name  must  live  in 

her  memory,  till  she  put  off  mortality." By  sir  Robert,  she  had 

only  one  child,  a  daughter,  whose  parts  and  plentiful  estate  make 
her  happy  in  this  world,  and  her  well  using  of  them,  gives  a  fail- 
testimony,  that  she  will  be  so  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Mrs.  Herbert  was  the  wife  of  sir  Robert  eight  years,  and  lived 
his  widow  about  fifteen ;  all  which  time  she  took  a  pleasure  in 
mentioning,  and  commending  the  excellencies  of  Mr.  George 
Herbert.  She  died  in  the  year  1663,  and  lies  buried  at  Highnam : 
Mr.  Herbert  in  his  own  church,  under  the  altar,  and  covered  with 
a  grave-stone  without  any  inscription. 

This  lady  Cook  had  preserved  many  of  Mr.  Herbert's  private 
writings,  which  she  intended  to  make  public :  but  they,  and 
Highnam  house,  were  burnt  together,  by  the  late  rebels,  and  so 
lost  to  posterity.  I.  W. 


54  GEORGE  HERBERT. 


LETTERS  written  by  Mr.  GEORGE  HERBERT,  at  his  being  in  Cam- 
bridge: with  others  to  his  mother,  the  lady  MAGDALEN  HER- 
BERT, written  by  JOHN  DONNE,  afterwards  Dean  of  St.  PauFs. 

Mr.  GEORGE  HERBERT  to  N.  F.6  the  translator  of  Valdesso. 

My  dear  and  deserving  brother,  your  Valdesso  I  now  return 
with  many  thanks,  and  some  notes,  in  which  perhaps  you  will 
discover  some  care,  which  I  forbear  not  in  the  midst  of  my  griefs ; 
first  for  your  sake ;  because,  I  would  do  nothing  negligently  that 
you  commit  unto  me ;  secondly  for  the  author's  sake,  whom  I 
conceive  to  have  been  a  true  servant  of  God ;  and  to  such,  and 
all  that  is  theirs,  I  owe  diligence ;  thirdly  for  the  church's  sake, 
to  whom  by  printing  it,  I  would  have  you  consecrate  it.  You 
owe  the  church  a  debt,  and  God  hath  put  this  into  your  hands 
(as  he  sent  the  fish  with  money  to  St.  Peter)  to  discharge  it : 
happily  also  with  this  (as  his  thoughts  are  fruitful)  intending  the 
honour  of  his  servant  the  author,  who  being  obscured  in  his  own 
country,  he  would  have  to  flourish  in  this  land  of  light,  and 
region  of  the  gospel,  among  his  chosen.  It  is  true,  there  are 
some  things  which  I  like  not  in  him,  as  my  fragments  will  express, 
when  you  read  them ;  nevertheless,  I  wish  you  by  all  means  to 
publish  it ;  for  these  three  eminent  things  observable  therein : 
first,  that  God  in  the  midst  of  popery  should  open  the  eyes  of 
one  to  understand  and  express  so  clearly  and  excellently  the 
intent  of  the  gospel  in  the  acceptation  of  Christ's  righteousness  : 
(as  he  sheweth  through  all  his  considerations,)  a  thing  strangely 
buried,  and  darkened  by  the  adversaries,  and  their  great  stum- 
bling block.  Secondly,  the  great  honour  and  reverence  which  he 
every  where  bears  towards  our  dear  master  and  lord ;  concluding 
every  consideration  almost  with  his  holy  name,  and  setting  his 
merit  forth  so  piously ;  for  which  I  do  so  love  him,  that  were 
there  nothing  else,  I  would  print  it,  that  with  it  the  honour  of  my 
lord  might  be  published.  Thirdly,  the  many  pious  rules  of  order- 
ing our  life,  about  mortification,  and  observation  of  God's  king- 
dom within  us,  and  the  working  thereof;  of  which  he  was  a  very 
diligent  observer.  These  three  things  are  very  eminent  in  the 

6  N.  F.]  Nicholas  Ferrar,  see  p.  47. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  55 

author,  and  overweigh  the  defects  (as  I  conceive)  towards  the 
publishing  thereof. 

From  his  Parsonage  of  Bemerton,  near 
Salisbury,  Sept.  29,  1632. 


To  SIR  J.  D  / 

Sir, 

Though  I  had  the  best  wit  in  the  world,  yet  it  would  easily  tire 
me,  to  find  out  variety  of  thanks  for  the  diversity  of  your  favours, 
if  I  sought  to  do  so  ;  but,  I  profess  it  not :  and  therefore  let  it  be 
sufficient  for  me,  that  the  same  heart,  which  you  have  won  long 
since,  is  still  true  to  you,  and  hath  nothing  else  to  answer  your 
infinite  kindnesses,  but  a  constancy  of  obedience ;  only  hereafter 
I  will  take  heed  how  I  propose  my  desires  unto  you,  since  I  find 
you  so  willing  to  yield  to  my  requests ;  for,  since  your  favours  come 
on  horseback,  there  is  reason,  that  my  desires  should  go  on  foot : 
neither  do  I  make  any  question,  but  that  you  have  performed 
your  kindness  to  the  full,  and  that  the  horse  is  every  way  fit  for 
me,  and  I  will  strive  to  imitate  the  completeness  of  your  love, 
with  being  in  some  proportion,  and  after  my  manner, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 


For  my  dear  sick  sister 8. 

Most  dear  Sister, 

Think  not  my  silence  forge  tfulness ;  or,  that  my  love  is  as  dumb 
as  my  papers ;  though  businesses  may  stop  my  hand,  yet  my 
heart,  a  much  better  member,  is  always  with  you  :  and  which  is 
more,  with  our  good  and  gracious  God,  incessantly  begging  some 
ease  of  your  pains,  with  that  earnestness,  that  becomes  your 

7  Sir  J.  D.]  Sir  John  Danvers,  step-father  to  George  Herbert. 

8  Sick  sister.']  Elizabeth,  the  eldest,  married  to  Sir  Henry  Jones.     "  The 
latter  end  of  her  time  was  the  most  sickly  and  miserable  that  hath  been 
known  in  our  times,  while  for  the  space  of  about  fourteen  years  she  lan- 
guished and  pined  away  to  skin  and  bones,  and  at  last  died  in  London." 
Life  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  p.  15. 


56  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

griefs,  and  my  love.  God  who  knows  and  sees  this  writing,  knows 
also  that  my  soliciting  him  has  been  much,  and  my  tears  many 
for  you ;  judge  me  then  by  those  waters,  and  not  by  my  ink,  and 
then  you  shall  justly  value 

Your  most  truly, 

most  heartily, 

affectionate  brother, 

and  servant, 

Decem.  6,  1620.  GEORGE  HEUBEI;  i 

Trin.  Coll. 


Sir', 

I  dare  no  longer  be  silent,  least  while  I  think  I  am  modest,  I 
wrong  both  myself,  and  also  the  confidence  my  friends  have  in 
me ;  wherefore  I  will  open  my  case  unto  you,  which  I  think 
deserves  the  reading  at  the  least ;  and  it  is  this,  I  want  books 
extreamly.  You  know  sir,  how  I  am  now  setting  foot  into 
divinity,  to  lay  the  platform  of  my  future  life,  and  shall  I  then  be 
fain  always  to  borrow  books,  and  build  on  another's  foundation  ? 
What  tradesman  is  there  who  will  set  up  without  his  tools? 
Pardon  my  boldness  sir,  it  is  a  most  serious  case,  nor  can  I  write 
coldly  in  that  wherein  consisteth  the  making  good  of  my  former 
education,  of  obeying  that  spirit  which  hath  guided  me  hitherto, 
and  of  atchieving  my  (I  dare  say)  holy  ends.  This  also  is  aggra- 
vated, in  that  I  apprehend  what  my  friends  would  have  been  for- 
ward to  say,  if  I  had  taken  ill  courses,  "  Follow  your  book,  and 
you  shall  want  nothing."  You  know  sir,  it  is  their  ordinary 
speech,  and  now  let  them  make  it  good ;  for  since  I  hope  I  have 
not  deceived  their  expectation,  let  not  them  deceive  mine. — But 
perhaps  they  will  say,  "  You  are  sickly,  you  must  not  study  too 
hard."  It  is  true  (God  knows)  I  am  weak,  yet  not  so  but  that 
every  day  I  may  step  one  step  towards  my  journey's  end  ;  and  I 
love  my  friends  so  well,  as  that  if  all  things  proved  not  well,  I 
had  rather  the  fault  should  lie  on  me,  than  on  them. — But  they 
will  object  again,  "What  becomes  of  your  annuity?"  Sir,  ii' 
tin-re  l»i  aii\  truth  in  me,  I  find  it  little  enough  to  keep  me  in 
health.  You  know  I  was  sick  last  vacation,  neither  am  I  yet 

9  Sir.]  Sir  John  Danvers. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  57 

recovered,  so  that  I  am  fain  ever  and  anon,  to  buy  somewhat 
tending  towards  my  health,  for  infirmities  are  both  painful  and 
costly.  Now  this  Lent  I  am  forbid  utterly  to  eat  any  fish,  so 
that  I  am  fain  to  diet  in  my  chamber  at  mine  own  cost ;  for  in 
our  public  halls,  you  know,  is  nothing  but  fish  and  whit-meats. 
Out  of  Lent  also  twice  a  week,  on  Fridays  and  Saturdays,  I  must 
do  so,  which  yet  sometimes  I  fast.  Sometimes  also  I  ride  to 
Newmarket,  and  there  lie  a  day  or  two  for  fresh  air ;  all  which 
tend  to  avoiding  of  costlier  matters,  if  I  should  fall  absolutely 
sick.  I  protest  and  vow,  I  even  study  thrift,  and  yet  I  am  scarce 
able  with  much  ado  to  make  one  half  yearns  allowance,  shake  hands 
with  the  other :  and  yet  if  a  book  of  four  or  five  shillings  come  in 
my  way,  I  buy  it,  though  I  fast  for  it ;  yea,  sometimes  of  ten 
shillings.  But  alas  sir,  what  is  that  to  those  infinite  volumes  of 
divinity,  which  yet  every  day  swell,  and  grow  bigger.  Noble  sir, 
pardon  my  boldness,  and  consider  but  these  three  things.  First, 
the  bulk  of  divinity.  Secondly,  the  time  when  I  desire  this 
(which  is  now,  when  I  must  lay  the  foundation  of  my  whole  life.) 
Thirdly,  what  I  desire,  and  to  what  end,  not  vain  pleasures,  nor 
to  a  vain  end.  If  then,  sir,  there  be  any  course,  either  by  engaging 
my  future  annuity,  or  any  other  way,  I  desire  you,  sir,  to  be  my 
mediator  to  them  in  my  behalf. 

Now  I  write  to  you,  sir,  because  to  you  I  have  ever  opened  my 
heart ;  and  have  reason,  by  the  patents  of  your  perpetual  favour 
to  do  so  still,  for  I  am  sure  you  love 

Your  faithfullest  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

March  18,  1617. 
Trin.  Coll 


Sir1, 

This  week  hath  loaded  me  with  your  favours.  I  wish  I  could 
have  come  in  person  to  thank  you,  but  it  is  not  possible ;  presently 
after  Michaelmas,  I  am  to  make  an  oration  to  the  whole  university 
of  an  hour  long  in  Latin,  and  my  Lincoln  journey  hath  set  me 
much  behind  hand.  Neither  can  I  so  much  as  go  to  Bugden,  and 
deliver  your  letter,  yet  have  I  sent  it  thither  by  a  faithful  mes- 
senger this  day.  I  beseech  you  all,  you  and  my  dear  mother  and 

1  Sir.']  Sir  John  Danvers. 


58  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

sister  to  pardon  me,  for  my  Cambridge  necessities  are  stronger  to 
tie  me  here,  than  your's  to  London.  If  I  could  possibly  have 
come,  none  should  have  done  my  message  to  sir  Fr.  Nethersole 
for  me ;  he  and  I  are  ancient  acquaintance,  and  I  have  a  strong 
opinion  of  him,  that  if  he  can  do  me  a  courtesy,  he  will  of  himself; 
yet  your  appearing  in  it  affects  me  strangely.  I  have  sent  you 
here  inclosed  a  letter  from  our  master  in  my  behalf,  which  if  you 
can  send  to  sir  Francis  before  his  departure,  it  will  do  well,  for 
it  expresseth  the  university's  inclination  to  me  ;  yet  if  you  cannot 
send  it  with  much  convenience,  it  is  no  matter,  for  the  gentleman 
needs  no  incitation  to  love  me. 

The  orator's  place  (that  you  may  understand  what  it  is)  is  the 
finest  place  in  the  university,  though  not  the  gainfullest.  Yet 
that  will  be  about  30£.  per  an.  but  the  commodiousness  is  beyond 
the  revenue;  for  the  orator  writes  all  the  university  letters, 
makes  all  the  orations,  be  it  to  king,  prince,  or  whatever  comes 
to  the  university.  To  requite  these  pains,  he  takes  place  next 
the  doctors,  is  at  all  their  assemblies  and  meetings,  and  sits  above 
the  proctors,  is  regent  or  non-regent  at  his  pleasure,  and  such  like 
gaynesses,  which  will  please  a  young  man  well. 

I  long  to  hear  from  sir  Francis.  I  pray  sir  send  the  letter  you 
receive  from  him  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  that  I  may  work  the 
heads  to  my  purpose.  I  hope  I  shall  get  this  place  without  all 
your  London  helps,  of  which  I  am  very  proud ;  not  but  that  I 
joy  in  your  favours,  but  that  you  may  see,  that  if  all  fail,  yet  I 
am  able  to  stand  on  mine  own  legs.  Noble  sir,  I  thank  you  for 
your  infinite  favours,  I  fear  only  that  I  have  omitted  some 
fitting  circumstance,  yet  you  will  pardon  my  haste,  which  is  very 
great,  though  never  so,  but  that  I  have  both  time  and  work 
to  be 

Your  extream  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 


Sir2, 

I  have  received  the  things  you  sent  me,  safe ;  and  now  the 
only  thing  I  long  for,  is  to  hear  of  my  dear  sick  sister ;  first,  how 
her  health  fares,  next,  whether  my  peace  be  yet  made  with  IK  r 

"  Sir.]  Sir  John  Danvers. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  59 

concerning  my  unkind  departure.  Can  I  be  so  happy,  as  to  hear 
of  both  these,  that  they  succeed  well  ?  Is  it  not  too  much  for 
me  ?  Good  sir,  make  it  plain  to  her,  that  I  loved  her  even  in  my 
departure,  in  looking  to  her  son,  and  my  charge.  I  suppose  she 
is  not  disposed  to  spend  her  eye-sight  on  a  piece  of  paper,  or  else 
I  had  wrote  to  her :  when  I  shall  understand  that  a  letter  will  be 
seasonable,  my  pen  is  ready. — Concerning  the  orator's  place  all 
goes  well  yet :  the  next  Friday  it  is  tried,  and  accordingly  you 
shall  hear.  I  have  forty  businesses  in  my  hands  ;  your  courtesy 
will  pardon  the  haste  of 

Your  humble  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 
Jan.  19,  1619. 
Trin.  Coll. 


Sir3, 

I  understand  by  sir  Francis  NethersoFs  letter,  that  he  fears  I 
have  not  fully  resolved  of  the  matter,  since  this  place  being  civil 
may  divert  me  too  much  from  divinity,  at  which,  not  without 
cause  he  thinks  I  aim.  But,  I  have  wrote  him  back,  that  this 
dignity  hath  no  such  earthiness  in  it,  but  it  may  very  well  be 
joined  with  heaven ;  or  if  it  had  to  others,  yet  to  me  it  should 
not,  for  ought  I  yet  knew :  and  therefore  I  desire  him  to  send 
me  a  direct  answer  in  his  next  letter.  I  pray  sir  therefore,  cause 
this  inclosed  to  be  carried  to  his  brother's  house  of  his  own  name 
(as  I  think)  at  the  sign  of  the  Pedler  and  the  Pack  on  London- 
bridge,  for  there  he  assigns  me.  I  cannot  yet  find  leisure  to 
write  to  my  lord,  or  sir  Benjamin  Ruddyard ;  but  I  hope  I  shall 
shortly.  Though  for  the  reckoning  of  your  favours  I  shall  never 
find  time  and  paper  enough,  yet  I  am 

Your  readiest  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 
Octob.  6,  1619. 
Trin.  Coll. 

I  remember  my  most  humble  duty  to  my  mother,  who  cannot 
think  me  lazy,  since  I  rode  two  hundred  miles  to  see  a  sister, 
in  a  way  I  knew  not,  in  the  midst  of  much  business,  and  all 
in  a  fortnight,  not  long  since. 

3  Sir.]  Sir  John  Danvers. 


60  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

To  the  truly  nolle  SIR  J.  D.4 
Sir, 

I  understand  by  a  letter  from  my  brother  Henry,  that  he  hath 
bought  a  parcel  of  books  for  me,  and  that  they  are  coming  over. 
Now  though  they  have  hitherto  travelled  upon  your  charge,  yet 
if  my  sister  were  acquainted  that  they  are  ready,  I  dare  say  she 
would  make  good  her  promise  of  taking  five  or  six  pound  upon 
her,  which  she  hath  hitherto  deferred  to  do,  not  of  herself,  but 
upon  the  want  of  those  books  which  were  not  to  be  got  in 
England.  For  that  which  surmounts,  though  your  noble  dispo- 
sition is  infinitely  free,  yet  I  had  rather  fly  to  my  old  ward,  that 
if  any  cause  could  be  taken  of  doubling  my  annuity  now,  upon 
condition  that  I  should  surcease  from  all  title  to  it  after  I 
entered  into  a  benefice,  I  should  be  most  glad  to  entertain  it, 
and  both  pay  for  the  surplusage  of  these  books,  and  for  ever  after 
cease  my  clamorous  and  greedy  bookish  requests.  It  is  high 
time  now  that  I  should  be  no  more  a  burden  to  you,  since  I  can 
never  answer  what  I  have  already  received;  for  your  favours 
are  so  ancient,  that  they  prevent  my  memory,  and  yet  still  grow 
upon 

Your  humble  servant, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

I  remember  my  most  humble  duty  to  my  mother.  I  have  wrote 
to  my  dear  sick  sister  this  week  already,  and  therefore  now  I 
hope  may  be  excused. 

I  pray  sir,  pardon  my  boldness  of  inclosing  my  brother's  letter  in 
yourX  for  it  was  because  I  know  your  lodging,  but  not  his. 


To  the  worthiest  Lady^  MRS.  MAGDALEN  HERBERT. 

Madam, 

Every  excuse  hath  in  it  somewhat  of  accusation,  and  since  I 
am  innocent,  and  yet  must  excuse,  how  shall  I  do  for  that  part 
of  accusing?  By  my  troth,  as  desperate  and  perplrxcd  nun 
L;TO\V  from  tlicucc  bold  ;  so  must  I  take  the  boldness  of  accusing 
you,  who  would  draw  so  dark  a  curtain  betwixt  UK.-  and  your  pur- 

4  Sir.}  Sir  John  Danvcrs. 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  61 

poses,  as  that  I  had  no  glimmering,  neither  of  your  goings,  nor 
the  way  which  my  letters  might  haunt.  Yet,  I  have  given  this 
licence  to  travel,  but  I  know  not  whither,  nor  it.  It  is  therefore 
rather  a  pinnace  to  discover ;  and  the  intire  colony  of  letters,  of 
hundreds  and  fifties,  must  follow;  whose  employment  is  more 
honourable,  than  that  which  our  state  meditates  to  Virginia, 
because  you  are  worthier  than  all  that  country,  of  which  that  is 
a  wretched  inch  ;  for  you  have  a  better  treasure,  and  a  harmless- 
ness.  If  this  sound  like  a  flattery,  tear  it  out.  I  am  to  my 
letters  as  rigid  a  puritan,  as  Csesar  was  to  his  wife.  I  can  as  ill 
endure  a  suspitious  and  misinterpretable  word  as  a  fault ;  but 
remember  that  nothing  is  flattery  which  the  speaker  believes; 
and  of  the  grossest  flatteries  there  is  this  good  use,  that  they  tell 
us  what  we  should  be.  But  madam,  you  are  beyond  instruc- 
tion, and  therefore  there  can  belong  to  you  only  praise;  of 
which  though  you  be  no  good  hearer,  yet  allow  all  my  letters 
leave  to  have  in  them  one  part  of  it,  which  is  thankfulness 
towards  you. 

Your  unworthiest  servant, 

Except  your  excepting 

have  mended  him, 

Mickin,  JOHN  DONNE. 

July  11,  1607. 


To  the  worthiest  Lady,  MRS.  MAGDALEN  HERBERT. 

Madam, 

This  is  my  second  letter,  in  which  though  I  cannot  tell  you 
what  is  good,  yet  this  is  the  worst  that  I  must  be  a  great  part 
of  it ;  yet  to  me  that  is  recompensed,  because  you  must  be 
mingled.  After  I  knew  you  were  gone  (for  I  must  little  less 
than  accusingly  tell  you,  I  knew  not  you  would  go)  I  sent  my 
first  letter,  like  a  Bevis  of  Hampton,  to  seek  adventures.  This 
day  I  came  to  town,  and  to  the  best  part  of  it,  your  house ;  for 
your  memory  is  a  state-cloth  and  presence,  which  I  reverence, 
though  you  be  away ;  though  I  need  not  seek  that  there,  which 
I  have  about  and  within  me.  There,  though  I  found  my  accusa- 
tion, yet  any  thing  to  which  your  hand  is,  is  a  pardon ;  yet  I 
would  not  burn  my  first  letter,  because  as  in  great  destiny  no 
small  passage  can  be  omitted  or  frustrated,  so  in  my  resolution  of 


62  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

writing  almost  daily  to  you,  I  would  have  no  link  of  the  chain 
broke  by  me,  both  because  my  letters  interpret  one  another,  and 
because  only  their  number  can  give  them  weight.  If  I  had  your 
commission  and  instructions  to  do  you  the  service  of  a  legier 
ambassador  here,  I  could  say  something  of  the  countess  of  Devon, 
of  the  states,  and  such  things.  But  since  to  you,  who  are  not 
only  a  world  alone,  but  the  monarchy  of  the  world  yourself, 
nothing  can  be  added,  especially  by  me ;  I  will  sustain  myself 
with  the  honour  of  being 

Your  servant  extraordinary, 

And  without  place, 

JOHN  DON  XL. 
London,  July  23,  1607. 


To  the  worthiest  Lady,  MRS.  MAGDALEN  HERBERT. 

Madam, 

As  we  must  die  before  we  can  have  full  glory  and  happiness,  so 
before  I  can  have  this  degree  of  it,  as  to  see  you  by  a  letter,  I 
must  almost  die,  that  is,  come  to  London,  to  plaguy  London ;  a 
place  full  of  danger,  and  vanity,  and  vice,  though  the  court  be 
gone.  And  such  it  will  be,  till  your  return  redeem  it.  Not  that 
the  greatest  virtue  in  the  world,  which  is  you,  can  be  such  a 
marshal,  as  to  defeat,  or  disperse  all  the  vice  of  this  place ;  but 
as  higher  bodies  remove,  or  contract  themselves  when  better 
come,  so  at  your  return  we  shall  have  one  door  open  to  innocence. 
Yet  madam,  you  are  not  such  an  Ireland,  as  produceth  neither 
ill,  nor  good ;  no  spiders,  nor  nightingales,  which  is  a  rare  degree 
of  perfection  ;  but  you  have  found  and  practised  that  experiment, 
that  even  nature,  out  of  her  detesting  of  emptiness,  if  we  will 
make  that  our  work,  to  remove  bad,  will  fill  us  with  good  things. 
To  abstain  from  it,  was  therefore  but  the  childhood,  and  minority 
of  your  soul,  which  had  been  long  exercised  since,  in  your  manlier 
active  part,  of  doing  good.  Of  which  since  I  have  been  a  witness 
and  subject,  not  to  tell  you  sometimes,  that  by  your  influence 
and  example  I  have  attained  to  such  a  step  of  goodness,  as  to  be 
thankful,  were  both  to  accuse  your  power  and  judgment  of 
impotency  and  infirmity. 

Your  ladyship's  in  all  services, 

August  2,  1607.  .!«MIN- 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  63 

On    MR.    GEORGE    HERBERT'S    Book,   intitled   The    Temple    of 
Sacred  Poems,  sent  to  a  Gentlewoman. 

Know  you,  fair,  on  what  you  look  ? 

Divinest  love  lies  in  this  book  : 

Expecting  fire  from  your  eyes, 

To  kindle  this  his  sacrifice. 

When  your  hands  untie  these  strings, 

Think  you've  an  angel  by  the  wings, 

One  that  gladly  will  be  nigh, 

To  wait  upon  each  morning  sigh ; 

To  nutter  in  the  balmy  air, 

Of  your  well-perfumed  prayer. 

These  white  plumes  of  his  he'll  lend  you, 

Which  every  day  to  heaven  will  send  you, 

To  take  acquaintance  of  the  sphere, 

And  all  the  smooth-fac'd  kindred  there. 

And  though  Herbert's  name  do  owe 

These  devotions,  fairest,  know 

That  while  I  lay  them  on  the  shrine 

Of  your  white  hand,  they  are  mine. 


To  the  Hlght  Honourable  the  Lady  ANNE,  Countess  of  PEMBROKE 
and  MONTAGUE  5,  at  Court. 

Madam, 

What  a  trouble  hath  your  goodness  brought  on  you,  by 
admitting  our  poor  services?  Now  they  creep  in  a  vessel  of 
metheglin,  and  still  they  will  be  presenting  or  wishing  to  see  if 
at  length  they  may  find  out  something  not  unworthy  of  those 
hands  at  which  they  aim.  In  the  mean  time  a  priests  blessing, 
though  it  be  none  of  the  courtstile,  yet  doubtless  madam,  can  do 
you  no  hurt.  Wherefore  the  Lord  make  good  the  blessing  of 

5  Montague."]  An  error  for  Montgomery;  Anne  Clifford,  sole  daughter 
and  heir  to  George,  earl  of  Cumberland,  widow  of  Richard,  earl  of  Dorset, 
and  afterwards  wife  of  Philip,  earl  of  Pembroke  and  Montgomery.  "  She 
was  the  oldest,  but  the  most  independent  courtier  in  the  kingdom  :  had 
known  and  admired  queen  Elizabeth :  had  refused  what  she  deemed  an  ini- 
quitous award  of  king  James ;  rebuilt  her  dismantled  castles  in  defiance  of 
Cromwell ;  and  repelled,  with  disdain,  the  interposition  of  a  profligate  mi- 
nister under  Charles  the  Second." — Whitaker's  Craven. 


64  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

your  mother  upon  you,  and  cause  all  her  wishes,  diligence, 
prayers  and  tears,  to  bud,  blow  and  bear  fruit  in  your  soul,  to 
his  glory,  your  own  good,  and  the  great  joy  of 

Madam, 

Your  most  faithful  servant 
in  Christ  Jesu, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 
Dec.  10,  1631,  Bemerton. 

Madam,  your  poor  colony  of  servants  present  their  humble 
duties. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 


VOT,.  IV. 


....  Tandem  hoc  didicit,  ANIMAS  SAPIENTIORES  FIERI  QUIESCENDO. 
PREFACE  TO  WOTTON  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON  (whose  life  I  now  intend  to  write)  was 
born  in  the  year  of  our  redemption  1568,  in  Bocton-hall  (com- 
monly called  Bocton,  or  Boughton-place,  or  palace,)  in  the  parish 
of  Bocton  Malherb,  in  the  fruitful  country  of  Kent ;  Bocton-hall 
being  an  ancient  and  goodly  structure  *,  beautifying  and  being 
beautified  by  the  parish  church  of  Bocton  Malherb  adjoining  unto 
it,  and  both  seated  within  a  fair  park  of  the  Wottons,  on  the  brow 
of  such  a  hill  as  gives  the  advantage  of  a  large  prospect  and  of 
equal  pleasure  to  all  beholders. 

But  this  house  and  church  are  not  remarkable  for  any  thing  so 
much  as  for  that  the  memorable  family  of  the  Wottons 2  have  so 
long  inhabited  the  one,  and  now  lie  buried  in  the  other,  as  appears 
by  their  many  monuments  in  that  church :  the  Wottons  being  a 
family  that  hath  brought  forth  divers  persons  eminent  for  wisdom 
and  valour ;  whose  heroic  acts  and  noble  employments,  both  in 
England  and  in  foreign  parts,  have  adorned  themselves  and  this 
nation,  which  they  have  served  abroad  faithfully  in  the  discharge 
of  their  great  trust,  and  prudently  in  their  negotiations  with 
several  princes ;  and  also  served  at  home  with  much  honour  and 
justice  in  their  wise  managing  a  great  part  of  the  public  affairs 
thereof,  in  the  various  times  both  of  war  and  peace. 

1  Goodly  structure.']  See  some  engravings,  with  descriptions  of  its  present 
remains,  in  Henry  Shaw's  Elizabethan  Architecture. 

2  Family  of  the  Wottons.']  Catharine  Wotton,  eldest  daughter  and  coheir  of 
Thomas,  second  lord  Wotton,  and  great  niece  of  sir  Henry  Wotton,  married 
Henry,  lord  Stanhope,  son  of  Philip,  first  earl  of  Chesterfield.     She  was 
created  countess  of  Chesterfield  for  life.     Her  grandson,  Charles  Stanhope 
(younger  brother  of  the  third  earl   of  Chesterfield),  inherited  her  estates 
and  took  the  name  of  Wotton.     He  died  without  issue. 

F    2 


68  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

But  lest  I  should  be  thought  by  any  that  may  incline  either  to 
deny  or  doubt  this  truth,  not  to  have  observed  moderation  in  the 
commendation  of  this  family;  and  also  for  that  I  believe  the 
merits  and  memory  of  such  persons  ought  to  be  thankfully 
recorded,  I  shall  offer  to  the  consideration  of  every  reader,  out 
of  the  testimony  of  their  pedigree,  and  our  chronicles,  a  part 
(and  but  a  part)  of  that  just  commendation  which  might  be 
from  thence  enlarged;  and  shall  then  leave  the  indifferent 
reader  to  judge  whether  my  error  be  an  excess  or  defect  of 
commendations. 

Sir  Robert  Wotton,  of  Bocton  Malherb,  knt.  was  born  about 
the  year  of  Christ  1460 :  he  lived  in  the  reign  of  king  Edward 
the  fourth,  was  by  him  trusted  to  be  lieutenant  of  Guisnes,  to  be 
knight  porter,  and  comptroller  of  Calais,  where  he  died,  and  lies 
honourably  buried. 

Sir  Edward  Wotton3,  of  Bocton  Malherb,  knight,  (son  and 
heir  of  the  said  sir  Robert)  was  born  in  the  year  of  Christ  1489, 
in  the  reign  of  king  Henry  the  seventh :  he  was  made  treasurer 
of  Calais,  and  of  the  privy  council  to  king  Henry  the  eighth, 
who  offered  him  to  be  lord  chancellor  of  England ;  but  (saith 
Hollinshed,  in  his  Chronicle)  out  of  a  virtuous  modesty  he 
refused  it. 

Thomas  Wotton,  of  Bocton  Malherb,  esquire,  son  and  heir  of 
the  said  sir  Edward,  (and  the  father  of  our  sir  Henry  that  occa- 
sions this  relation,)  was  born  in  the  year  of  Christ  1521  :  he  was 
a  gentleman  excellently  educated,  and  studious  in  all  the  liberal 
arts,  in  the  knowledge  whereof  he  attained  unto  a  great  perfec- 
tion ;  who,  though  he  had  (besides  those  abilities,  a  very  noble 
and  plentiful  estate,  and  the  ancient  interest  of  his  predecessors) 
many  invitations  from  queen  Elizabeth  to  change  his  country 
recreations  and  retirement  for  a  court,  offering  him  a  knighthood, 
(she  was  then  with  him  at  his  Bocton-hall,)  and  that  to  be  but  as 
an  earnest  of  some  more  honourable  and  more  profitable  employ- 
ment under  her ;  yet  he  humbly  refused  both,  being  a  man  of  great 
modesty,  of  a  most  plain  and  single  heart,  of  an  ancient  freedom 
and  integrity  of  mind.  A  commendation  which  sir  Henry 
Wotton  took  occasion  often  to  remember  with  great  gladness, 
and  thankfully  to  boast  himself  the  son  of  such  a  father;  from 

3  Sir  Edward  Wot  ton."]  His  sister,  Margaret,  married  Thomas  Grey,  se- 
cond marquis  of  Dorset,  and  was  grandmother  of  lady  Jane  Grey. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  69 

whom  indeed  he  derived  that  noble  ingenuity  that  was  always 
practised  by  himself,  and  which  he  ever  both  commended  and 
cherished  in  others.  This  Thomas  was  also  remarkable  for  hos- 
pitality, a  great  lover,  and  much  beloved  of  his  country ;  to  which 
may  justly  be  added,  that  he  was  a  cherisher  of  learning,  as 
appears  by  that  excellent  antiquary  Mr.  William  Lambert4,  in  his 
Perambulation  of  Kent. 

This  Thomas 5  had  four  sons,  sir  Edward,  sir  James,  sir  John, 
and  sir  Henry. 

Sir  Edward  was  knighted  by  queen  Elizabeth,  and  made 
comptroller  of  her  majesty "s  household.  He  was  (saith  Cambden) 
a  man  remarkable  for  many  and  great  employments  in  the  state 
during  her  reign,  and  sent  several  times  ambassador  into  foreign 
nations.  After  her  death  he  was  by  king  James  made  comp- 
troller of  his  household,  and  called  to  be  of  his  privy  council,  and 
by  him  advanced  to  be  lord  Wotton,  baron  of  Merly  in  Kent,  and 
made  lord  lieutenant  of  that  county. 

Sir  James  (the  second  son)  may  be  numbered  among  the 
martial  men  of  his  age,  who  was  in  the  38th  of  queen  Elizabeths 
reign  (with  Robert  earl  of  Sussex,  count  Lodowick  of  Nassau, 
don  Christophoro,  son  of  Antonio  king  of  Portugal 6,  and  divers 
other  gentlemen  of  nobleness  and  valour)  knighted  in  the  field 
near  Cadiz7  in  Spain,  after  they  had  gotten  great  honour  and 
riches,  besides  a  notable  retaliation  of  injuries  by  taking  that 
town. 

Sir  John,  being  a  gentleman  excellently  accomplished  both  by 
learning  and  travel,  was  knighted  by  queen  Elizabeth,  and  by  her 
looked  upon  with  more  than  ordinary  favour,  and  with  intentions 
of  preferment ;  but  death  in  his  younger  years  put  a  period  to  his 
growing  hopes. 

Of  sir  Henry  my  following  discourse  shall  give  an  account. 

The  descents  of  these  fore-named  Wottons  were  all  in  a  direct 
line,  and  most  of  them  and  their  actions  in  the  memory  of  those 


4  Lambert .]  More  properly  Lambard. 

5  This  Thomas.']  Who  died  llth  January,  1587. 


6  King  of  Portugal.']  Antonio  of  Portugal,  prior  of  Crato,  was  a  natural 
son  of  the  infant  Dom  Luis,  and  grandson  of  the  king  Dom  Emanuel.    After 
the  death  of  the  king  Dom  Sebastian,  in  1578,  Antonio  was  one  of  the  pre- 
tenders to  the  throne  of  Portugal,  and  he  was  supported  in  his  claims  by 
Elizabeth  of  England  and  by  France. 

7  Near  Cadiz.']  In  June  and  July,  1596,  by  the  earl  of  Essex,  who  gave 
offence  to  queen  Elizabeth  by  the  number  of  knights  he  then  made. 


70  SIR  HENRY  WO1TON. 

with  whom  we  have  conversed ;  but  if  I  had  looked  so  far  back 
as  to  sir  Nicholas  Wotton,  (who  lived  in  the  reign  of  king 
Richard  the  second,)  or  before  him,  upon  divers  others  of  great 
note  in  their  several  ages,  I  might  by  some  be  thought  tedious ; 
and  yet  others  may  more  justly  think  me  negligent  if  I  omit  to 
mention  Nicholas  Wotton,  the  fourth  son  of  sir  Robert,  whom  I 
first  named. 

This  Nicholas  Wotton  was  doctor  of  law,  and  sometime  dean 
both  of  York  and  Canterbury ;  a  man  whom  God  did  not  only 
bless  with  a  long  life,  but  with  great  abilities  of  mind,  and  an 
inclination  to  employ  them  in  the  service  of  his  country,  as  is 
testified  by  his  several  employments3;  having  been  nine  times 
ambassador  unto  foreign  princes  ;  and  by  his  being  a  privy  coun- 
cillor to  king  Henry  the  eighth,  to  Edward  the  sixth,  to  queen 
Mary,  and  queen  Elizabeth ;  who  also,  after  he  had  been  during 
the  wars  between  England,  Scotland,  and  France,  three  several 
times  (and  not  unsuccessfully)  employed  in  committees  for  settling 
of  peace  betwixt  this  and  those  kingdoms,  died  (saith  learned 

Cambden)  full  of  commendations  for  wisdom  and  piety. He 

was  also  by  the  will  of  king  Henry  the  eighth  made  one  of  his 
executors,  and  chief  secretary  of  state  to  his  son,  that  pious 
prince  Edward  the  sixth. Concerning  which  Nicholas  Wotton8 

*  Camden  in  his  Britannia. 

8  Concerning  which  Nicholas  WottonJ]  When  we  consider  the  numerous 
and  very  important  negotiations  in  which  Nicholas  Wotton  was  engaged,  it 
appears  at  first  sight  somewhat  strange  that  so  few  of  his  letters  or  papers 
should  be  known  to  exist :  that  such  is  the  case  is  owing  in  all  probability  to 
the  caution  of  lord  Burghley,  with  whom  even  from  early  life  Wotton  was 
intimate,  and  whose  secrets  he  possessed.  After  the  death  of  dean  WTotton, 
lord  Burghley  applied  to  the  nephew  (the  Thomas  Wotton  who  was  saved  by 
the  well-timed  dream  mentioned  at  p.  74,  father  of  sir  Henry),  and  received 
from  him,  on  the  1 8th  of  March,  1583,  the  great  bulk  of  the  dean's  papers. 
They  are  not  now  however  to  be  found  amongst  the  Cecil  Papers,  which  be- 
longed to  lord  Exeter,  and  which  are  now  in  the  British  Museum,  neither  are 
they  amongst  those  belonging  to  the  marquess  of  Salisbury,  who  possesses 
only  the  few  letters  of  Wotton  which  are  printed  by  Murdin  and  Haynes. 
There  are  some  few  in  the  State  Paper  Office  which  have  been  recently  brought 
to  light  by  Mr.  Fraser  Tytler,  and  are  printed  in  his  England  during  the  reigns 
of  Edward  VI.  and  Mary.  Two  very  curious  volumes  of  historical  and  genea- 
logical collections  in  the  handwriting  of  the  dean  are  preserved  in  the  British 
Museum,  and  the  late  sir  George  Nayler  possessed  a  similar  volume,  which 
now  (1852)  belongs  to  sir  Thomas  Phillipps,  bart.  These  volumes  sufficiently 
attest  the  writer's  great  knowledge  and  research. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  71 

I  shall  say  but  this  little  more :  that  he  refused  (being  offered  it 
by  queen  Elizabeth)  to  be  b  archbishop  of  Canterbury ;  and  that 
he  died  not  rich,  though  he  lived  in  that  time  of  the  dissolution 
of  abbeys. 

More  might  be  added  :  but  by  this  it  may  appear,  that  sir 
Henry  Wotton  was  a  branch  of  such  a  kindred  as  left  a  stock 
of  reputation  to  their  posterity ;  such  reputation  as  might  kindle 
a  generous  emulation  in  strangers,  and  preserve  a  noble  ambition 
in  those  of  his  name  and  family  to  perform  actions  worthy  of 
their  ancestors. 

And  that  sir  Henry  Wotton  did  so,  might  appear  more  per- 
fectly than  my  pen  can  express  it,  if  of  his  many  surviving  friends 
some  one  of  higher  parts  and  employment  had  been  pleased  to 
have  commended  his  to  posterity.  But  since  some  years  are  now 
past,  and  they  have  all  (I  know  not  why)  forborne  to  do  it,  my 
gratitude  to  the  memory  of  my  dead  friend,  and  the  renewed 
request  of  some c  that  still  live  solicitous  to  see  this  duty  per- 
formed ;  these  have  had  a  power  to  persuade  me  to  undertake  it ; 
which  truly  I.  have  not  done  but  with  some  distrust  of  mine  own 
abilities,  and  yet  so  far  from  despair,  that  I  am  modestly  confi- 
dent my  humble  language  shall  be  accepted,  because  I  shall 
present  all  readers  with  a  commixture  of  truth  and  sir  Henry 
Wotton^s  merits. 

This  being  premised,  I  proceed  to  tell  the  reader,  that  the 
father  of  sir  Henry  Wotton  was  twice  married,  first  to  Elizabeth, 
the  daughter  of  sir  John  Eudstone 9,  knight ;  after  whose  death, 
though  his  inclination  was  averse  to  all  contentions,  yet  neces- 
sitated he  was  to  several  suits  in  law,  in  the  prosecution  whereof 
(which  took  up  much  of  his  time,  and  were  the  occasion  of  many 
discontents)  he  was  by  divers  of  his  friends  earnestly  persuaded 
to  a  remarriage ;  to  whom  he  as  often  answered,  That  if  ever  he 


b  Hollinshead. 

c  Sir  Edward  Bish,  clarencieux  king  of  arms,  Mr.  Charles  Cotton,  and 
Mr.  Nick  Oudert,  sometime  sir  Henry  Wotton's  servant. 

9  Sir  John  Rudstone.']  Who  had  been  lord  mayor  of  London  in  1528,  and 
died  in  1531.  There  was  a  triple  alliance  between  his  family  and  that  of  the 
Wottons,  as  two  of  his  children  married  two  of  sir  Edward  Wotton's,  sir 
Edward  himself  having  married  sir  John's  widow.  He  seems  to  have  been 
possessed  of  great  wealth.  The  Harleian  MS.  1231  contains  nothing  else 
than  his  will,  inventories  of  his  goods,  and  deeds  relative  to  his  widow  and 
her  marriage. 


72  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

did  put  on  a  resolution  to  marry,  he  was  seriously  resolved  to  avoid 
three  sorts  of  persons  : 

C  that  had  children, 
namely,  those  -j  that  had  law-suits. 

v  that  were  of  his  kindred. 

And  yet,  following  his  own  law-suit,  he  met  in  Westminster- 
hall  with  Mrs.  Elionora  Morton,  widow  to  Robert  Morton l  of 
Kent,  esquire,  who  was  also  engaged  in  several  suits  in  law ;  and 
he,  observing  her  comportment  at  the  time  of  hearing  one  of  her 
causes  before  the  judges,  could  not  but  at  the  same  time  both 
compassionate  her  condition  and  affect  her  person  (for  the  tears 
of  lovers,  or  beauty  drest  in  sadness,  are  observed  to  have  in 
them  a  charming  eloquence,  and  to  become  very  often  too  strong 
to  be  resisted,)  which  I  mention,  because  it  proved  so  with  this 
Thomas  Wotton ;  for  although  there  were  in  her  a  concurrence 
of  all  those  accidents  against  which  he  had  so  seriously  resolved, 
yet  his  affection  to  her  grew  then  so  strong,  that  he  resolved  to 
solicit  her  for  a  wife ;  and  did,  and  obtained  her. 

By  her  (who  was  the  daughter  of  sir  William  Finch a,  of  East- 
well,  in  Kent,)  he  had  only  Henry  his  youngest  son. His 

mother  undertook  to  be  tutoress  unto  him  during  much  of  his 
childhood ;  for  whose  care  and  pains  he  paid  her  each  day  with 
such  visible  signs  of  future  perfection  in  learning  as  turned  her 
employment  into  a  pleasing  trouble,  which  she  was  content  to 
continue  till  his  father  took  him  into  his  own  particular  care,  and 
disposed  of  him  to  a  tutor  in  his  own  house  at  Bocton. 

And  when  time  and  diligent  instruction  had  made  him  fit  for  a 
removal  to  an  higher  form  (which  was  very  early)  he  was  sent  to 
Winchester  school,  a  place  of  strict  discipline  and  order ;  that 
so  he  might  in  his  youth  be  moulded  into  a  method  of  living 
by  rule,  which  his  wise  father  knew  to  be  the  most  necessary 
way  to  make  the  future  part  of  his  life  both  happy  to  himself, 
and  useful  for  the  discharge  of  all  business,  whether  public  or 
private. 

And  that  he  might  be  confirmed  in  this  regularity,  he  was  at 
a  fit  age  removed  from  that  school  to  be  commoner  of  New  college 

1  Robert  Morton.']  By  whom  she  was  mother  of  sir  Albertus  Morton. 
:  Sir  William  Finch.]  Ancestor  of  the  earls  of  Winchelsea  and  Nottingham, 
and  Aylesford. 

3  To  be  commoner.]  He  was  admitted  in  1584. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  73 

in  Oxford,  both  being  founded  by  William  Wickham,  bishop  of 
Winchester. 

There  he  continued  till  about  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age, 
and  was  then  transplanted  into  Queen's  college,  where  within  that 
year  he  was  by  the  chief  of  that  college  persuasively  enjoined  to 
write  a  play  for  their  private  use,  (it  was  the  tragedy  of  Tan- 
credo,)  which  was  so  interwoven  with  sentences,  and  for  the 
method  and  exact  personating  those  humours,  passions  and  dis- 
positions, which  he  proposed  to  represent,  so  performed,  that  the 
gravest  of  that  society  declared  he  had  in  a  slight  employment 
given  an  early  and  a  solid  testimony  of  his  future  abilities.  And 
though  there  may  be  some  sour  dispositions,  which  may  think 
this  not  worth  a  memorial,  yet  that  wise  knight  Baptista  Guarini 4 
(whom  learned  Italy  accounts  one  of  her  ornaments)  thought 
it  neither  an  uncomely  nor  an  unprofitable  employment  for 
his  age. 

But  I  pass  to  what  will  be  thought  more  serious. 

About  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age  he  proceeded  master  of 
arts,  and  at  that  time  read  in  Latin  three  lectures  de  oculo ; 
wherein  he  having  described  the  form,  the  motion,  the  curious 
composure  of  the  eye ;  and  demonstrated  how  of  those  very  many, 
every  humour  and  nerve  performs  his  distinct  office,  so  as  the 
God  of  order  hath  appointed,  without  mixture  or  confusion ;  and 
all  this  to  the  advantage  of  man,  to  whom  the  eye  is  given,  not 
only  as  the  body's  guide,  but  whereas  all  other  of  his  senses 
require  time  to  inform  the  soul,  this  in  an  instant  apprehends 
and  warns  him  of  danger,  teaching  him  in  the  very  eyes  of  others 
to  discover  wit,  folly,  love,  and  hatred.  After  he  had  made 
these  observations  he  fell  to  dispute  this  optique  question, 
"  Whether  we  see  by  the  emission  of  the  beams  from  within,  or 
reception  of  the  species  from  without  f  and  after  that,  and  many 
other  like  learned  disquisitions,  he  in  the  conclusion  of  his  lectures 
took  a  fair  occasion  to  beautify  his  discourse  with  a  commendation 
of  the  blessing  and  benefit  of  seeing ;  by  which  we  do  not  only 
discover  nature's  secrets ;  but  with  a  continued  content  (for  the 
eye  is  never  weary  of  seeing)  behold  the  great  light  of  the  world, 
and  by  it  discover  the  fabric  of  the  heavens,  and  both  the  order 
and  motion  of  the  celestial  orbs ;  nay,  that  if  the  eye  look  but 
downward,  it  may  rejoice  to  behold  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  our 

4  Guarini.']  Giovanni  Battista  Guarini,  the  author  of  the  Pastor  Fido. 


74  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

common  mother,  embroidered  and  adorned  with  numberless  and 
various  flowers,  which  man  sees  daily  grow  up  to  perfection,  and 
then  silently  moralize  his  own  condition,  who  in  a  short  time 
(like  those  very  flowers)  decays  and  withers,  and  quickly  returns 
again  to  that  earth  from  which  both  had  their  first  being. 

These  were  so  exactly  debated,  and  so  rhetorically  heightened 
as,  among  other  admirers,  caused  that  learned  Italian,  Albericus 
Gentilis 5  (then  professor  of  the  civil  law  in  Oxford)  to  call  him 
Henrice,  mi  ocelle ;  which  dear  expression  of  his  was  also  used  by 
divers  of  sir  Henry^s  dearest  friends,  and  by  many  other  persons 
of  note,  during  his  stay  in  the  university. 

But  his  stay  there  was  not  long ;  at  least,  not  so  long  as  his 
friends  once  intended ;  for  the  year  after  sir  Henry  proceeded 
master  of  arts,  his  father  (whom  sir  Henry  did  never  mention 
without  this  or  some  like  reverential  expression,  as  That  good 
man  my  father,  or  my  father  the  best  of  men :)  about  that  time  this 
good  man  changed  this  for  a  better  life,  leaving  to  sir  Henry,  as 
to  his  other  younger  sons,  a  rent-charge  of  an  hundred  marks  a 
year,  to  be  paid  for  ever  out  of  some  one  of  his  manors  of  a  much 
greater  value. 

And  here,  though  this  good  man  be  dead,  yet  I  wish  a  circum- 
stance or  two  that  concern  him  may  not  be  buried  without  a  rela- 
tion ;  which  I  shall  undertake  to  do,  for  that  I  suppose  they  may 
so  much  concern  the  reader  to  know,  that  I  may  promise  myself 
a  pardon  for  a  short  digression. 

In  the  year  of  our  redemption  1553  Nicholas  Wotton,  dean  of 
Canterbury  (whom  I  formerly  mentioned)  being  then  ambassador 
in  France,  dreamed  that  his  nephew,  this  Thomas  Wotton,  was 
inclined  to  be  a  party  in  such  a  project  as,  if  he  were  not  suddenly 
prevented,  would  turn  both  to  the  loss  of  his  life  and  ruin  of  his 
family. 

Doubtless  the  good  dean  did  well  know  that  common  dreams 
are  but  a  senseless  paraphrase  on  our  waking  thoughts,  or  of  the 
business  of  the  day  past,  or  are  the  result  of  our  over-engaged 
affections  when  we  betake  ourselves  to  rest;  and  knew  that  tin- 
observation  of  them  may  turn  to  silly  superstitions,  as  they  too 
often  do :  but  though  he  might  know  all  this,  and  might  also 
believe  that  prophecies  are  ceased,  yet  doubtless  he  could  not  but 

'  Gentilis.]  Of  whom  an  account  is  given  by  Ant.  a  Wood. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  75 

consider,  that  all  dreams  are  not  to  be  neglected  or  cast  away 
without  all  consideration,  and  did  therefore  rather  lay  this  dream 
aside  than  intend  totally  to  lose  it ;  and  dreaming  the  same  again 
the  night  following,  when  it  became  a  double  dream,  like  that  of 
Pharaoh,  (of  which  double  dreams  the  learned  have  made  many 
observations)  and  considering  that  it  had  no  dependence  on  his 
waking  thoughts,  much  less  on  the  desires  of  his  heart,  then  he 
did  more  seriously  consider  it,  and  remembered  that  almighty 
God  was  pleased  in  a  dream  to  reveal  and  to  assure  Monica d, 
the  mother  of  St.  Austin,  that  he,  her  son,  for  whom  she  wept  so 
bitterly  and  prayed  so  much,  should  at  last  become  a  Christian. 
This  I  believe  the  good  dean  considered ;  and  considering  also 
that  almighty  God  (though  the  causes  of  dreams  be  often  un- 
known) hath  even  in  these  latter  times  also,  by  a  certain  illumi- 
nation of  the  soul  in  sleep,  discovered  many  things  that  human 
wisdom  could  not  foresee :  upon  these  considerations  he  resolved 
to  use  so  prudent  a  remedy,  by  way  of  prevention,  as  might  in- 
troduce no  great  inconvenience  either  to  himself  or  to  his  nephew. 
And  to  that  end  he  wrote  to  the  queen  (it  was  queen  Mary)  and 
besought  her,  "  That  she  would  cause  his  nephew  Thomas  Wot- 
ton,  to  be  sent  for  out  of  Kent ;  and  that  the  lords  of  her  council 
might  interrogate  him  in  some  such  feigned  questions  as  might 
give  a  colour  for  his  commitment  into  a  favourable  prison ;  de- 
claring that  he  would  acquaint  her  majesty  with  the  true  reason 
of  his  request  when  he  should  next  become  so  happy  as  to  see 
and  speak  to  her  majesty." 

It  was  done  as  the  dean  desired ;  and  in  prison  I  must  leave 
Mr.  Wotton  till  I  have  told  the  reader  what  followed. 

At  this  time  a  marriage  was  concluded  betwixt  our  queen 
Mary  and  Philip  king  of  Spain ;  and  though  this  was  concluded 
with  the  advice,  if  not  by  the  persuasion  of  her  privy  council,  as 
having  many  probabilities  of  advantage  to  this  nation,  yet  divers 
persons  of  a  contrary  persuasion  did  not  only  declare  against  it, 
but  also  raised  forces  to  oppose  it ;  believing  (as  they  said)  it 
would  be  a  means  to  bring  England  to  be  under  a  subjection  to 
Spain,  and  make  those  of  this  nation  slaves  to  strangers. 

And  of  this  number  sir  Thomas  Wyat,  of  Boxley  Abbey,  in 
Kent,  (betwixt  whose  family  and  the  family  of  the  Wottons  there 
had  been  an  ancient  and  entire  friendship)  was  the  principal 

d  St.  Austin's  Confessions,  book  iii.  ch.  ii. 


76  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

actor ;  who  having  persuaded  many  of  the  nobility  and  gentry 
(especially  in  Kent)  to  side  with  him,  and  he  being  defeated  and 
taken  prisoner,  was  legally  arraigned  and  condemned,  and  lost 
his  life 6 :  so  did  the  duke  of  Suffolk,  and  divers  others,  especially 
many  of  the  gentry  of  Kent,  who  were  there  in  several  places 
executed  as  Wyat^s  assistants. 

And  of  this  number,  in  all  probability,  had  Mr.  Wotton  been 
if  he  had  not  been  confined ;  for  though  he  could  not  be  ignorant 
that  another  man's  treason  makes  it  mine  by  concealing  it,  yet 
he  durst  confess  to  his  uncle,  when  he  returned  into  England, 
and  then  came  to  visit  him  in  prison,  that  he  had  more  than  an 
intimation  of  Wyat's  intentions,  and  thought  he  had  not  con- 
tinued actually  innocent  if  his  uncle  had  not  so  happily  dreamed 
him  into  a  prison  ;  out  of  which  place  when  he  was  delivered  by 
the  same  hand  that  caused  his  commitment,  they  both  considered 
the  dream  more  seriously,  and  then  both  joined  in  praising  God 
for  it ;  that  God  who  ties  himself  to  no  rules,  either  in  preventing 
of  evil,  or  in  shewing  of  mercy  to  those  whom  of  good  pleasure  he 
hath  chosen  to  love. 

And  this  dream  was  the  more  considerable,  because  that  God, 
who  in  the  days  of  old  did  use  to  speak  to  his  people  in  visions, 
did  seem  to  speak  to  many  of  this  family  in  dreams ;  of  which  I 
will  also  give  the  reader  one  short  particular  of  this  Thomas 
Wotton,  whose  dreams  did  usually  prove  true,  both  in  foretelling 
things  to  come  and  discovering  things  past ;  and  the  particular  is 
this : — This  Thomas,  a  little  before  his  death,  dreamed  that  the 
university  treasury  was  robbed  by  townsmen  and  poor  scholars ; 
and  that  the  number  was  five :  and  being  that  day  to  write  to  his 
son  Henry  at  Oxford,  he  thought  it  worth  so  much  pains  as  by  a 
postscript  in  his  letter  to  make  a  slight  inquiry  of  it.  The  letter 
(which  was  writ  out  of  Kent,  and  dated  three  days  before,)  canic 
to  his  son's  hands  the  very  morning  after  the  night  in  which  the 
robbery  was  committed;  and  when  the  city  and  university  \v.-n- 
both  in  a  perplexed  inquest  of  the  thieves,  then  did  sir  Henry 
\Vntton  shew  his  fathers  letter,  and  by  it  such  light  was  gi\«'ii 
of  this  work  of  darkness,  that  the  five  guilty  persons  were  pre- 
sently discovered  and  apprehended,  without  putting  the  university 
to  so  much  trouble  as  the  casting  of  a  figun  . 

6  Lost  his  life.]  He  was  beheaded,  April  llth,  1554. 

7  Casting  a  figure  J]  In  our  days  it  sounds  strangely  that  the  university  of 
Oxford  should  have  resorted  to  astrology. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  77 

And  it  may  yet  be  more  considerable,  that  this  Nicholas  and 
Thomas  Wotton  should  both  (being  men  of  holy  lives,  of  even 
tempers,  and  much  given  to  fasting  and  prayer,)  foresee  and  fore- 
tell the  very  days  of  their  own  death.  Nicholas  did  so,  being 
then  seventy  years  of  age,  and  in  perfect  health.  Thomas  did  the 
like  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  who  being  then  in  London 
(where  he  died)  and  foreseeing  his  death  there,  gave  direction  in 
what  manner  his  body  should  be  carried  to  Bocton ;  and  though 
he  thought  his  uncle  Nicholas  worthy  of  that  noble  monument 8 
which  he  built  for  him  in  the  cathedral  church  of  Canterbury,  yet 
this  humble  man  gave  direction  concerning  himself  to  be  buried 
privately,  and  especially  without  any  pomp  at  his  funeral. — This 
is  some  account  of  this  family,  which  seemed  to  be  beloved  of 
God. 

But  it  may  now  seem  more  than  time  that  I  return  to  sir  Henry 
Wotton  at  Oxford,  where,  after  his  optic  lecture,  he  was  taken 
into  such  a  bosom  friendship  with  the  learned  Albericus  Gentilis 
(whom  I  formerly  named)  that  if  it  had  been  possible  Gentilis 
would  have  breathed  all  his  excellent  knowledge,  both  of  the 
mathematics  and  law,  into  the  breast  of  his  dear  Harry,  (for  so 
Gentilis  used  to  call  him)  and  though  he  was  not  able  to  do  that, 
yet  there  was  in  sir  Henry  such  a  propensity  and  connaturalness 
to  the  Italian  language,  and  those  studies  whereof  Gentilis  was 
a  great  master,  that  this  friendship  between  them  did  daily 
increase,  and  prove  daily  advantageous  to  sir  Henry,  for  the 
improvement  of  him  in  several  sciences  during  his  stay  in  the 
university. 

From  which  place,  before  I  shall  invite  the  reader  to  follow  him 
into  a  foreign  nation,  though  I  must  omit  to  mention  divers  per- 
sons that  were  then  in  Oxford,  of  memorable  note  for  learning, 
and  friends  to  sir  Henry  Wotton,  yet  I  must  not  oinit  the  men- 
tion of  a  love  that  was  there  begun  between  him  and  Dr.  Donne, 
(sometime  dean  of  St.  Paul's,)  a  man  of  whose  abilities  I  shall 
forbear  to  say  any  thing,  because  he  who  is  of  this  nation,  and 
pretends  to  learning  or  ingenuity,  and  is  ignorant  of  Dr.  Donne, 
deserves  not  to  know  him.  The  friendship  of  these  two  I  must 


8  That  noble  monument.']  Of  which  an  engraving  by  Cole  is  in  Dart's 
History  of  Canterbury  Cathedral:  a  smaller  engraving  is  in  Hasted's  History 
of  Kent. 


78  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

not  omit  to  mention,  being  such  a  friendship  as  was  generously 
elemented :  and  as  it  was  begun  in  their  youth,  and  in  an  univer- 
sity, and  there  maintained  by  correspondent  inclinations  and 
studies,  so  it  lasted  till  age  and  death  forced  a  separation. 

In  Oxford  he  staid  till  about  two  years  after  his  father's  death, 
at  which  time  he  was  about  the  two  and  twentieth  year  of  his 
age ;  and  having  to  his  great  wit  added  the  ballast  of  learning, 
and  knowledge  of  the  arts,  he  then  laid  aside  his  books,  and  be- 
took himself  to  the  useful  library  of  travel,  and  a  more  general 
conversation  with  mankind ;  employing  the  remaining  part  of  his 
youth,  his  industry  and  fortune,  to  adorn  his  mind,  and  to  pur- 
chase the  rich  treasure  of  foreign  knowledge ;  of  which,  both  for 
the  secrets  of  nature,  the  dispositions  of  many  nations,  their 
several  laws  and  languages,  he  was  the  possessor  in  a  very  large 
measure,  as  I  shall  faithfully  make  to  appear,  before  I  take  my 
pen  from  the  following  narration  of  his  life. 

In  his  travels,  which  was  almost  nine  years  before  his  return 
into  England,  he  staid  but  one  year  in  France,  and  most  of  that 
in  Geneva,  where  he  became  acquainted  with  Theodore  Beza 
(then  very  aged),  and  with  Isaac  Casaubon,  in  whose  house  (if  I 
be  rightly  informed)  sir  Henry  Wotton  was  lodged,  and  there 
contracted  a  most  worthy  friendship9  with  that  man  of  rare 
learning  and  ingenuity. 

Three  of  the  remaining  eight  years  were  spent  in  Germany, 
the  other  five  in  Italy  (the  stage  on  which  God  appointed  he 
should  act  a  great  part  of  his  life)  where  both  in  Rome,  Venice, 
and  Florence,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  most  eminent  men 
for  learning,  and  all  manner  of  arts;  as  picture,  sculpture, 
chemistry,  architecture,  and  other  manual  arts,  even  arts  of 
inferior  nature  ;  of  all  which  he  was  a  most  dear  lover,  and  a 
most  excellent  judge. 

He  returned  out  of  Italy  into  England  about  the  thirtieth 
year  of  his  age,  being  then  noted  by  many,  both  for  his  person 
and  comportment ;  for  indeed  he  was  of  choice  shape,  tall 
of  stature,  and  of  a  most  persuasive  behaviour;  which  u;i> 
so  mixed  with  sweet  discourse,  and  civilities,  as  gained  him 

"  Worthy  friendship.']  Wotton's  improvidence  in  pecuniary  matters  ap- 
pears to  have  brought  Casaubon,  who  had  become  his  bondsman,  into  very 
considerable  anxiety  and  difficulty.  The  matter  however,  in  the  end,  was 
settled  satisfactorily.  This  was  in  the  years  1594  and  1595.  See  Isaaci 
Casauboni  Epiatobr,  fol.  17<M>.  p.  11.  12.  1:1.  17.  19. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  79 

much  love  from  all  persons  with  whom  he  entered  into  an 
acquaintance. 

And  whereas  he  was  noted  in  his  youth  to  have  a  sharp  wit, 
and  apt  to  jest ;  that  by  time,  travel,  and  conversation,  was  so 
polished,  and  made  so  useful,  that  his  company  seemed  to  be  one 
of  the  delights  of  mankind ;  insomuch  as  Robert  earl  of  Essex 
(then  one  of  the  darlings  of  fortune,  and  in  greatest  favour  with 
queen  Elizabeth)  invited  him  first  into  a  friendship,  and  after  a 
knowledge  of  his  great  abilities,  to  be  one  of  his  secretaries ; 
(the  other  being  Mr.  Henry  Cuife,  sometime  of  Merton  college 
in  Oxford ;  and  there  also  the  acquaintance  of  sir  Henry  Wotton 
in  his  youth ;  Mr.  Cuffe  being  then  a  man  of  no  common  note 
in  the  university  for  his  learning;  nor  after  his  removal  from 
that  place,  for  the  great  abilities  of  his  mind  ;  nor  indeed,  for  the 
fatalness  of  his  end.) 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  being  now  taken  into  a  serviceable  friend- 
ship with  the  earl  of  Essex,  did  personally  attend  his  counsels 
and  employments  in  two  voyages  at  sea  against  the  Spaniards, 
and  also  in  that  (which  was  the  earl's  last)  into  Ireland ;  that 
voyage  wherein  he  then  did  so  much  provoke  the  queen  to  anger, 
and  worse  at  his  return  into  England ;  upon  whose  immoveable 
favour  the  earl  had  built  such  sandy  hopes,  as  encouraged  him 
to  those  undertakings,  which  with  the  help  of  a  contrary  faction 
suddenly  caused  his  commitment  to  the  Tower. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  observing  this,  though  he  was  not  of  that 
faction  (for  the  earl's  followers  were  also  divided  into  their  several 
interests)  which  encouraged  the  earl  to  those  undertakings  which 
proved  so  fatal  to  him,  and  divers  of  his  confederation  ;  yet, 
knowing  treason  to  be  so  comprehensive,  as  to  take  in  even  cir- 
cumstances, and  out  of  them  to  make  such  positive  conclusions  as 
subtle  statesmen  shall  project,  either  for  their  revenge  or  safety ; 
considering  this,  he  thought  prevention  by  absence  out  of  England, 
a  better  security  than  to  stay  in  it,  and  there  plead  his  innocence 
in  a  prison.  Therefore  did  he,  so  soon  as  the  earl  was  appre- 
hended, very  quickly,  and  as  privately  glide  through  Kent  to 
Dover,  without  so  much  as  looking  toward  his  native  and  beloved 
Bocton ;  and  was  by  the  help  of  favourable  winds  and  liberal 
payment  of  the  mariners,  within  sixteen  hours  after  his  departure 
from  London,  set  upon  the  French  shore;  where  he  heard 
shortly  after,  that  the  earl  was  arraigned,  condemned,  and  be- 


80  SIR  HENRY  WOTTOX. 

headed ! ;  and  that  his  friend  Mr.  Cuffe  was  hanged,  and  divers 
other  persons  of  eminent  quality  executed. 

The  times  did  not  look  so  favourably  upon  sir  Henry  Wotton, 
as  to  invite  his  return  into  England ;  having  therefore  procured 
of  sir  Edward  Wotton,  his  elder  brother,  an  assurance  that  his 
annuity  should  be  paid  him  in  Italy,  thither  he  went,  happily 
renewing  his  intermitted  friendship  and  interest,  and  indeed,  his 
great  content  in  a  new  conversation  with  his  old  acquaintance  in 
that  nation ;  and  more  particularly  in  Florence  (which  city  is 
not  more  eminent  for  the  great  duke^s  court,  than  for  the  great 
recourse  of  men  of  choicest  note  for  learning  and  arts,)  in  which 
number  he  there  met  with  his  old  friend  seignior  Vietta ',  a  gen- 
tleman of  Venice,  and  then  taken  to  be  secretary  to  the  great 
duke  of  Tuscany 3. 

After  some  stay  in  Florence,  he  went  the  fourth  time  to  visit 
Rome,  where  in  the  English  college  he  had  very  many  friends 
(their  humanity  made  them  really  so,  though  they  knew  him  to  be 
a  dissenter  from  many  of  their  principles  of  religion,)  and  having 
enjoyed  their  company,  and  satisfied  himself  concerning  some 
curiosities  that  did  partly  occasion  his  journey  thither,  he  returned 
back  to  Florence,  where  a  most  notable  accident  befell  him ;  an 
accident  that  did  not  only  find  new  employment  for  his  choice 
abilities,  but  introduce  him  to  a  knowledge  and  an  interest  with 
our  king  James,  then  king  of  Scotland ;  which  I  shall  proceed 
to  relate. 

But  first,  I  am  to  tell  the  reader,  that  though  queen  Elizabeth 
(or  she  and  her  council)  were  never  willing  to  declare  her  suc- 
cessor; yet  James  then  king  of  the  Scots,  was  confidently 
believed  by  most  to  be  the  man  upon  whom  the  sweet  trouble  of 
kingly  government  would  be  imposed ;  and  the  queen  declining 
very  fast,  both  by  age  and  visible  infirmities,  those  that  were  of 
the  Romish  persuasion  in  point  of  religion  (even  Rome  itself,  and 
those  of  this  nation)  knowing  that  the  death  of  the  queen,  and 
the  establishing  of  her  successor,  were  taken  to  be  critical 
days  for  destroying  or  establishing  the  protestant  religion  in  this 

1  Beheaded.]  In  1600. 

2  Seignior  Vietta.]  Who  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  great  mathema- 
tician Francois  Viete,  then  living,  a  Frenchman,  born  at  Fontenay,  in  Poitou, 
and  master  of  requests  to  Margaret  of  Valois. 

3  Great  duke  of  Tuscany.]  Ferdinand  de*  Medici. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  81 

nation,  did  therefore  improve  all  opportunities  for  preventing  a 
protestant  prince  to  succeed  her.  And  as  the  pope's  excom- 
munication 4  of  queen  Elizabeth,  had  both  by  the  judgment  and 
practice  of  the  jesuited  papist,  exposed  her  to  be  warrantably 
destroyed ;  so  (if  we  may  believe  an  angry  adversary 5,  a  "  secular 
priest  against  a  Jesuit ")  you  may  believe,  that  about  that  time 
there  were  many  endeavours,  first  to  excommunicate,  and  then  to 
shorten  the  life  of  king  James. 

Immediately  after  sir  Henry  Wotton's  return  from  Rome  to 
Florence  (which  was  about  a  year  before  the  death  of  queen 
Elizabeth)  Ferdinand  the  great  duke  of  Florence  had  intercepted 
certain  letters  that  discovered  a  design  to  take  away  the  life  of 
James  the  then  king  of  Scots.  The  duke  abhorring  the  fact, 
and  resolving  to  endeavour  a  prevention  of  it,  advised  with  his 
secretary  Vietta,  by  what  means  a  caution  might  be  best  given 
to  that  king ;  and  after  consideration,  it  was  resolved  to  be  done 
by  sir  Henry  Wotton,  whom  Vietta  first  commended  to  the  duke, 
and  the  duke  had  noted  and  approved  of  above  all  the  English 
that  frequented  his  court. 

Sir  Henry  was  gladly  called  by  his  friend  Vietta  to  the  duke, 
who  after  much  profession  of  trust  and  friendship,  acquainted  him 
with  the  secret ;  and  being  well  instructed,  dispatched  him  into 
Scotland  with  letters  to  the  king,  and  with  those  letters,  such 
Italian  antidotes  against  poison,  as  the  Scots  till  then  had  been 
strangers  to. 

Having  parted  from  the  duke,  he  took  up  the  name  and  lan- 
guage of  an  Italian ;  and  thinking  it  best  to  avoid  the  line  of 
English  intelligence  and  danger;  he  posted  into  Norway,  and 
through  that  country  towards  Scotland,  where  he  found  the  king 
at  Stirling ;  being  there,  he  used  means  by  Bernard  Lindsey 6, 

4  Pope's  excommunication^]  Pius  V.'s  in  1576.     "It  deposed  the  queen's 
majesty  from  her  royal  seat,  and  tore  the  crown  from  her  head.    It  discharged 
all  her  natural  subjects  from  all  due  obedience.     It  armed  one  side  of  them 
against  another.     It  emboldened  them  to  burn,  to  spoil,  to  rob,  to  kill,  to 
cut  one  another's  throats ;  like  Pandora's  box  sent  to  Epimetheus,  full  of 
hurtful  and  unwholesome  evils."    Bp.  Jewel. 

5  An  angry  adversary .]  William  Watson,  who  was  hanged  in   1603,  with 
William  Clark  and  George  Brooke,  the  brother  of  lord  Cobham.     The  titles  of 
his  books  are,  1.  Dialogue  betwixt  a  Secular  Priest  and  a  Lay  Gentleman,  4to., 
Rhemes,  1601.     2.  Decachordon  of  Ten   Quodlibeticall  Questions  concerning 
Religion  and  State,  4to.,  1602. 

6  Bernard  Lindsey.']  So  read  all  the  editions,  as  if  a  cadet  of  the  houses  of 

VOL.   IV.  G 


82  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

one  of  the  king's  bedchamber,  to  procure  him  a  speedy  and 
private  conference  with  his  majesty,  assuring  him,  "That  the 
business  which  he  was  to  negotiate,  was  of  such  consequence  as 
had  caused  the  great  duke  of  Tuscany  to  enjoin  him  suddenly  to 
leave  his  native  country  of  Italy,  to  impart  it  to  his  king." 

This  being  by  Bernard  Lindsey  made  known  to  the  king,  the 
king  after  a  little  wonder  (mixed  with  jealousy)  to  hear  of  an 
Italian  ambassador,  or  messenger,  required  his  name  (which  was 
said  to  be  Octavio  Baldi)  and  appointed  him  to  be  heard  privately 
at  a  fixed  hour  that  evening. 

When  Octavio  Baldi  came  to  the  presence-chamber  door,  he 
was  requested  to  lay  aside  his  long  rapier  (which  Italian-like  he 
then  wore)  and  being  entered  the  chamber,  he  found  there  with 
the  king  three  or  four  Scotch  lords  standing  distant  in  several 
corners  of  the  chamber ;  at  the  sight  of  whom  he  made  a  stand  ; 
which  the  king  observing,  "bade  him  be  bold,  and  deliver  his 
message ;  for  he  would  undertake  for  the  secrecy  of  all  that  were 
present."  Then  did  Octavio  Baldi  deliver  his  letters  and  his 
message  to  the  king  in  Italian;  which,  when  the  king  had 
graciously  received,  after  a  little  pause,  Octavio  Baldi  steps  to 
the  table  and  whispers  to  the  king  in  his  own  language,  that  he 
was  an  Englishman,  beseeching  him  for  a  more  private  conference 
with  his  majesty,  and  that  he  might  be  concealed  during  his 
stay  in  that  nation ;  which  was  promised,  and  really  performed 
by  the  king  during  all  his  abode  there,  (which  was  about  three 
months)  all  which  time  was  spent  with  much  pleasantness  to  the 
king,  and  with  as  much  to  Octavio  Baldi  himself,  as  that  country 
could  afford ;  from  which  he  departed  as  true  an  Italian 7,  as  he 
came  thither. 

To  the  duke  of  Florence  he  returned  with  a  fair  and  grateful 
account  of  his  employment,  and  within  some  few  months  after 
his  return,  there  came  certain  news  to  Florence,  that  queen 
Elizabeth  was  dead ;  and  James  king  of  the  Scots  proclaimed 
king  of  England.  The  duke  knowing  travel  and  business  to  be 
the  best  schools  of  wisdom,  and  that  sir  Henry  Wotton  had  been 
tutored  in  both,  advised  him  to  return  presently  to  England,  and 


Crawford  or  Balcarres  were  meant :  the  real  person  was  Bernard  Lindley, 
mentioned  by  the  scandalous  chronicler  Weldon  as  one  of  the  Scots  who 
obtained  large  grants  from  James,  after  his  accession  to  the  English  throne. 
7  As  true  an  Italian.]  Meaning  that  his  disguise  was  not  discovered. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  83 

there  joy  the  king  with  his  new  and  better  title,  and  wait  there 
upon  fortune  for  a  better  employment. 

When  king  James  came  into  England,  he  found,  amongst 
other  of  the  late  queen's  officers,  sir  Edward,  who  was  after  lord 
Wotton,  comptroller  of  the  house,  of  whom  he  demanded,  "  If 
he  knew  one  Henry  Wotton,  that  had  spent  much  time  in  foreign 
travel  2"  the  lord  replied,  he  knew  him  well,  and  that  he  was  his 
brother ;  then  the  king  asking  where  he  then  was,  was  answered, 
at  Venice,  or  Florence ;  but  by  late  letters  from  thence,  he 
understood  he  would  suddenly  be  at  Paris.  "  Send  for  him," 
said  the  king,  "  and  when  he  shall  come  into  England,  bid  him 
repair  privately  to  me."  The  lord  Wotton  after  a  little  wonder, 
asked  the  king,  "  if  he  knew  him  ?"  to  which  the  king  answered, 
"  You  must  rest  unsatisfied  of  that,  till  you  bring  the  gentleman 
to  me." 

Not  many  months  after  this  discourse,  the  lord  Wotton  brought 
his  brother  to  attend  the  king,  who  took  him  in  his  arms,  and 
bade  him  welcome  by  the  name  of  Octavio  Baldi,  saying,  "  he 
was  the  most  honest,  and  therefore  the  best  dissembler  that  ever 
he  met  with:"  and  said,  "Seeing  I  know  you  neither  want 
learning,  travel,  nor  experience,  and  that  I  have  had  so  real  a 
testimony  of  your  faithfulness  and  abilities  to  manage  an  ambas- 
sage,  I  have  sent  for  you  to  declare  my  purpose ;  which  is,  to 
make  use  of  you  in  that  kind  hereafter :"  and  indeed  the  king 
did  so  most  of  those  two  and  twenty  years  of  his  reign ;  but 
before  he  dismist  Octavio  Baldi  from  his  present  attendance  upon 
him,  he  restored  him  to  his  old  name  of  Henry  Wotton,  by  which 
he  then  knighted  him. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  king  having  resolved,  according  to  his 
motto  (Beati  pacifici)  to  have  a  friendship  with  his  neighbour- 
kingdoms  of  France  and  Spain 8,  and  also  for  divers  weighty  rea- 
sons, to  enter  into  an  alliance  with  the  state  of  Venice,  and  to 
that  end  to  send  ambassadors  to  those  several  places,  did  propose 
the  choice  of  these  employments  to  sir  Henry  Wotton ;  who 
considering  the  smallness  of  his  own  estate  (which  he  never  took 

8  France  and  Spain.']  With  France  Elizabeth  had  always  maintained  a  close 
alliance,  but  even  to  the  day  of  her  death  she  held  no  diplomatic  intercourse 
with  Spain.  By  James,  soon  after  his  accession,  sir  Charles  Cornwallis  was  sent 
to  Spain,  where  he  remained  for  several  years.  His  negotiations  are  in  the 
British  Museum,  and  many  of  them  have  been  printed  in  Winwood's  memo- 
rials. Sir  Thomas  Parry  was  the  ambassador  sent  by  James  to  France. 


84  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

care  to  augment)  and  knowing  the  courts  of  great  princes  to  be 
sumptuous,  and  necessarily  expensive,  inclined  most  to  that  of 
Venice 9,  as  being  a  place  of  more  retirement,  and  best  suiting 
with  his  genius,  who  did  ever  love  to  join  with  business,  study, 
and  a  trial  of  natural  experiments  ;  for  both  which  fruitful  Italy, 
that  darling  of  nature,  and  cherisher  of  all  arts,  is  so  justly  famed 
in  all  parts  of  the  Christian  world. 

Sir  Henry  having  after  some  short  time  and  consideration, 
resolved  upon  Venice,  and  a  large  allowance  being  appointed  by 
the  king  for  his  voyage  thither,  and  settled  maintenance  during 
his  stay  there,  he  left  England,  nobly  accompanied  through 
France  to  Venice,  by  gentlemen  of  the  best  families  and  breeding 
that  this  nation  afforded.  They  were  too  many  to  name,  but 
these  two,  for  following  reasons  may  not  be  omitted ;  sir  Al- 
bertus  Morton1  his  nephew,  who  went  his  secretary;  and  William 
Bedel 2,  a  man  of  choice  learning,  and  sanctified  wisdom,  who  went 
his  chaplain.  And  though  his  dear  friend  doctor  Donne  (then  a 
private  gentleman)  was  not  one  of  that  number  that  did  personally 
accompany  him  in  this  voyage,  yet  the  reading  of  this  following 
letter  sent  by  him  to  sir  Henry  Wotton,  the  morning  before  he 
left  England,  may  testify  he  wanted  not  his  friend's  best  wishes 
to  attend  him. 


After  those  reverend  papers,  whose  soul  is 

Our  good,  and  great  king's  loved  hand,  and  feared  name : 

By  which  to  you  he  derives  much  of  his, 
And  how  he  may,  makes  you  almost  the  same : 

A  taper  of  his  torch ;  a  copy  writ 

From  his  original,  and  a  fair  beam 
Of  the  same  warm  and  dazzling  sun,  though  it 

Must  in  another  sphere  his  virtue  stream  : 

9  That  of  Venice.]  With  the  seignory  of  Venice  Elizabeth  had  held  no 
intercourse.  She  neither  sent  nor  received  an  ambassador  throughout  her 
long  reign.  Immediately  upon  her  death,  the  secretary  of  the  republic,  Sca- 
ramelli,  was  sent  to  congratulate  James.  The  Venetian  ambassadors  in  France 
were  ordered  to  come  over  to  England  for  the  same  purpose,  and  for  more 
than  a  century  and  a  half,  with  scarcely  any  intermission,  a  Venetian  resident 
was  at  the  court  of  England. 

1  Sir  Albertus  Morton  his  nephew.]  Sir  Albertus  Morton  was  not  Wotton's 
nephew,  but  his  half-brother.  See  p.  72. 

-  William  Bedel.]  Afterwards  bishop  of  Kilmore,  whose  life  has  been 
written  by  bishop  Burnet. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  85 

After  those  learned  papers  which  your  hand 

Hath  stored  with  notes  of  use  and  pleasure  too  ; 

From  which  rich  treasury  you  may  command 
Fit  matter  whether  you  will  write  or  do  : 

After  those  loving  papers  which  friends  send 
With  glad  grief  to  your  sea-ward  steps  farewel, 

And  thicken  on  you  now  as  prayers  ascend 

To  heaven  on  troops  at  a  good  man's  passing-bell : 

Admit  this  honest  paper ;  and  allow 

It  such  an  audience  as  yourself  would  ask ; 
What  you  would  say  at  Venice,  this  says  now, 

And  has  for  nature  what  you  have  for  task  : 

To  swear  much  love ;  nor  to  be  changed  before 

Honour  alone  will  to  your  fortune  fit ; 
Nor  shall  I  then  honour  your  fortune  more, 

Than  I  have  done  your  honour-wanting  wit. 

But  'tis  an  easier  load  (though  both  oppress) 

To  want,  than  govern  greatness ;  for  we  are 
In  that,  our  own  and  only  business  ; 

In  this,  we  must  for  others  vices  care. 

'Tis  therefore  well,  your  spirits  now  are  plac'd 

In  their  last  furnace,  in  activity ; 
Which  fits  them  :  schools,  and  courts,  and  wars  o'er  past 

To  touch  and  taste  in  any  best  degree. 

For  me  !  (if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  I) 

Fortune  (if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  she) 
Finds  that  I  bear  so  well  her  tyranny, 

That  she  thinks  nothing  else  so  fit  for  me. 

But  though  she  part  us,  to  hear  my  oft  prayers 

For  your  increase,  God  is  as  near  me  here : 
And  to  send  you  what  I  shall  beg,  his  stairs 

In  length  and  ease,  are  alike  every  where. 

J.  DONNE. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  received  by  the  state  of  Venice  with 
much  honour  and  gladness,  both  for  that  he  delivered  his  ambas- 
sage  most  elegantly  in  the  Italian  language,  and  came  also  in 
such  a  juncture  of  time,  as  his  master's  friendship  seemed  useful 
for  that  republic.  The  time  of  his  coming  thither  was  about  the 
year  1604,  Leonardo  Donato  being  then  duke  ;  a  wise  and  re- 
solved man,  and  to  all  purposes  such  (sir  Henry  Wotton  would 
often  say  it)  as  the  state  of  Venice  could  not  then  have  wanted  ; 
there  having  been  formerly  in  the  time  of  pope  Clement  the 


86  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

eighth3,  some  contests  about  the  privileges  of  churchmen,  and 
power  of  the  civil  magistrate ;  of  which  for  the  information  of 
common  readers,  I  shall  say  a  little,  because  it  may  give  light  to 
some  passages  that  follow. 

About  the  year  1603,  the  republic  of  Venice  made  several 
injunctions  against  lay-persons  giving  lands  or  goods  to  the 
church,  without  licence  from  the  civil  magistrate  ;  and  in  that 
inhibition  they  expressed  their  reasons  to  be,  "  For  that  when 
any  goods  or  land  once  came  into  the  hands  of  the  ecclesiastics, 
it  was  not  subject  to  alienation;  by  reason  whereof  (the  lay- 
people  being  at  their  death  charitable  even  to  excess)  the  clergy 
grew  every  day  more  numerous,  and  pretended  an  exemption 
from  all  public  service,  and  taxes,  and  from  all  secular  judgment : 
so  that  the  burden  grew  thereby  too  heavy  to  be  borne  by  the 
laity." 

Another  occasion  of  difference  was,  that  about  this  time  com- 
plaints were  justly  made  by  the  Venetians  against  two  clergymen, 
the  abbot  of  Nervesa,  and  a  canon  of  Vicenza,  for  committing 
such  sins,  as  I  think  not  fit  to  name  :  nor  are  these  mentioned 
with  an  intent  to  fix  a  scandal  upon  any  calling ;  (for  holiness  is 
not  tied  to  ecclesiastical  orders,  and  Italy  is  observed  to  breed 
the  most  virtuous  and  most  vicious  men  of  any  nation.)  These 
two  having  been  long  complained  of  at  Rome  in  the  name  of  the 
state  of  Venice,  and  no  satisfaction  being  given  to  the  Venetians, 
they  seized  the  persons  of  this  abbot  and  canon,  and  committed 
them  to  prison. 

The  justice,  or  injustice  of  such  or  the  like  power,  then  used 
by  the  Venetians,  had  formerly  had  some  calm  debates  betwixt 
the  former  pope  Clement  the  eighth,  and  that  republic :  I  say, 
calm,  for  he  did  not  excommunicate  them ;  considering  (as  I  con- 
ceive) that  in  the  late  council  of  Trent  it  was  at  last  (after  many 
politique  disturbances,  and  delays,  and  endeavours  to  preserve  the 
pope's  present  power)  in  order  to  a  general  reformation  of  those 
many  errors,  which  were  in  time  crept  into  the  church,  declared 
by  that  council  *,  "  That  though  discipline,  and  especially  excom- 
munication, be  one  of  the  chief  sinews  of  church  government, 
and  intended  to  keep  men  in  obedience  to  it :  for  which  end,  it 


8  Clement  the  eighth.']    Ippolito  Aldobrandini,   pope   from  7th  February, 
1592,  to  5th  March,  1605. 
4  By  that  council.]  Concil.  Trident,  sets.  xrv.  cap.  iii. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  87 

was  declared  to  be  very  profitable ;  yet,  it  was  also  declared  and 
advised  to  be  used  with  great  sobriety  and  care  :  because  expe- 
rience had  informed  them,  that  when  it  was  pronounced  unad- 
visedly, or  rashly,  it  became  more  contemned  than  feared."  And, 
though  this  was  the  advice  of  that  council  at  the  conclusion  of  it 
which  was  not  many  years  before  this  quarrel  with  the  Vene- 
tians ;  yet  this  prudent,  patient  pope  Clement  dying,  pope  Paul 
the  fifth 5,  who  succeeded  him  (though  not  immediately 6,  yet  in 
the  same  year)  being  a  man  of  a  much  hotter  temper,  brought  this 
difference  with  the  Venetians 7  to  a  much  higher  contention  :  ob- 
jecting those  late  acts  of  that  state  to  be  a  diminution  of  his  just 
power,  and  limited  a  time  of  twenty-four  days  for  their  revoca- 
tion ;  threatening,  if  he  were  not  obeyed,  to  proceed  to  excommu- 
nication of  the  republic,  who  still  offered  to  show  both  reason  and 
antient  custom  to  warrant  their  actions.  But  this  pope,  contrary 
to  his  predecessor's  moderation,  required  absolute  obedience 
without  disputes. 

Thus  it  continued  for  about  a  year ;  the  pope  still  threatening 
excommunication,  and  the  Venetians  still  answering  him  with 
fair  speeches,  and  no  compliance,  till  at  last,  the  pope's  zeal  to 
the  apostolic  see  did  make  him  excommunicate  the  duke,  the 
whole  senate,  and  all  their  dominions ;  and  that  done  to  shut  up 
all  their  churches ;  charging  the  whole  clergy  to  forbear  all  sacred 
offices  to  the  Venetians,  till  their  obedience  should  render  them 
capable  of  absolution. 

But  this  act  of  the  pope's  did  but  the  more  confirm  the  Vene- 
tians in  their  resolution  not  to  obey  him.  And  to  that  end,  upon 
the  hearing  of  the  pope's  interdict,  they  presently  published  by 
sound  of  trumpet,  a  proclamation  to  this  effect : 

"  That  whosoever  hath  received  from  Rome  any  copy  of  a  papal 
interdict,  published  there,  as  well  against  the  law  of  God,  as 
against  the  honour  of  this  nation,  shall  presently  render  it  to  the 

5  Paul  the  fifth.}  Camillo  Borghese,  pope  from  16th  May,  1 605,  to  28th 
January,  1621. 

6  Not  immediately.']   After  the  death  of  Clement  VIII.,  the  cardinal  of 
Florence,  Alessandro  Ottaviano  de'  Medici,  had  been  elected  pope,  1st  April, 
1605,  and  he  had  taken  the  title  of  Leo  XL,  but  he  died  on  the  27th  of  the 
same  month. 

7  Difference  with  the  Venetians.']  A  volume  might  be  filled  merely  with  an 
account  of  what  has  been  written  on  both  sides  respecting  this  celebrated 
dispute  and  the  consequent  interdict. 


88  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

council  of  ten,  upon  pain  of  death."  And  they  made  it  loss  of 
estate  and  nobility,  but  to  speak  in  the  behalf  of  the  Jesuits. 

Then  was  Duado  *  their  ambassador  called  home  from  Rome, 
and  the  Inquisition  presently  suspended  by  order  of  the  state ; 
and  the  flood-gates  being  thus  set  open,  any  man  that  had  a  plea- 
sant or  scoffing  wit  might  safely  vent  it  against  the  pope,  either 
by  free  speaking,  or  by  libels  in  print ;  and  both  became  very 
pleasant  to  the  people. 

Matters  thus  heightened,  the  state  advised  with  father  Paul,  a 
holy  and  learned  frier  (the  author  of  the  History  of  the  Council 
of  Trent,  whose  advice  was,  "  Neither  to  provoke  the  pope,  nor 
lose  their  own  right :"  he  declaring  publicly  in  print,  in  the  name 
of  the  state,  "  That  the  pope  was  trusted  to  keep  two  keys  ;  one 
of  prudence  and  the  other  of  power :  and  that  if  they  were  not 
both  used  together,  power  alone  is  not  effectual  in  an  excommu- 
nication." 

And  thus  these  discontents  and  oppositions  continued,  till  a 
report  was  blown  abroad,  that  the  Venetians  were  all  turned  pro- 
testants :  which  was  believed  by  many,  for  that  it  was  observed, 
the  English  ambassador  was  so  often  in  conference  with  the 
senate,  and  his  chaplain  Mr.  Bedel  more  often  with  father  Paul 9, 
whom  the  people  did  not  take  to  be  his  friend :  and  also,  for  that 
the  republic  of  Venice  was  known  to  give  commission  to  Gregory 
Justiniano  *,  then  their  ambassador  in  England,  to  make  all  these 
proceedings  known  to  the  king  of  England,  and  to  crave  a  pro- 
mise of  his  assistance,  if  need  should  require  :  and  in  the  mean- 
time they  required  the  king's  advice  and  judgment ;  which  was 
the  same  that  he  gave  to  pope  Clement,  at  his  first  coming  to  the 
crown  of  England ;  (that  pope  then  moving  him  to  an  union  with 
the  Roman  church)  namely,  u  To  endeavour  the  calling  of  a  free 
council,  for  the  settlement  of  peace  in  Christendom :  and,  that  he 
doubted  not,  but  that  the  French  king,  and  divers  other  princes 
would  join  to  assist  in  so  good  a  work ;  and  in  the  mean  time, 
the  sin  of  this  breach,  both  with  his,  and  the  Venetians'1  dominions, 
must  of  necessity  lye  at  the  pope's  door." 

8  Was  Duado. .]  More  correctly  Duodo.     Pietro  Duodo  was  ambassador  in 
England  with  Badoero,  in  1603 :  there  is  still  extant  in  the  British  Museum 
an  original  letter  of  sir  Henry  Wotton,  in  which  the  circumstances  here 
alluded  to  are  given. 

9  Father  Paul.']  Paolo  Sarpi. 

1  Gregory  Justiniano.']  Or  Giorgio  Giustiniani,  ambassador  in  1606. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  89 

In  this  contention  (which  lasted  almost  two  years)  the  pope 
grew  still  higher,  and  the  Venetians  more  and  more  resolved  and 
careless :  still  acquainting  king  James  with  their  proceedings, 
which  was  done  by  the  help  of  sir  Henry  Wotton,  Mr.  Bedel, 
and  Padre  Paulo,  whom  the  Venetians  did  then  call  to  be  one  of 
their  consulters  of  state,  and  with  his  pen  to  defend  their  just 
cause  :  which  was  by  him  so  performed,  that  the  pope  saw  plainly, 
he  had  weakened  his  power  by  exceeding  it,  and  offered  the 
Venetians  absolution  upon  very  easy  terms ;  which  the  Venetians 
still  slighting,  did  at  last  obtain,  by  that  which  was  scarce  so 
much  as  a  shew  of  acknowledging  it :  for,  they  made  an  order, 
that  in  that  day  in  which  they  were  absolved,  there  should  be  no 
public  rejoicing,  nor  any  bonfires  that  night,  lest  the  common 
people  might  judge,  that  they  desired  an  absolution,  or  were  ab- 
solved for  committing  a  fault. 

These  contests  were  the  occasion  of  Padre  Paulo's  knowledge 
and  interest  with  king  James,  for  whose  sake  principally  Padre 
Paulo  compiled  that  eminent  History  of  the  remarkable  Council 
of  Trent ;  which  history  was,  as  fast  as  it  was  written,  sent  in 
several  sheets  in  letters  by  sir  Henry  Wotton,  Mr.  Bedel,  and 
others,  unto  king  James,  and  the  then  bishop  of  Canterbury,  into 
England,  and  there  first  made  public,  both  in  English  and  in  the 
universal  language  2. 

For  eight  years  after  sir  Henry  Wotton's  going  into  Italy,  he 
stood  fair  and  highly  valued  in  the  king's  opinion,  but  at  last 
became  much  clouded  by  an  accident,  which  I  shall  proceed  to 
relate. 

At  his  first  going  ambassador  into  Italy,  as  he  passed  through 
Germany,  he  stayed  some  days  at  Augusta 3 ;  where  having  been 
in  his  former  travels  well  known  by  many  of  the  best  note  for 
learning  and  ingeniousness  (those  that  are  esteemed  the  virtuosi 
of  that  nation)  with  whom  he  passing  an  evening  in  merriment, 
was  requested  by  Christopher  Flecamore  to  write  some  sentence 
in  his  albo :  (a  book  of  white  paper,  which  for  that  purpose  many 
of  the  German  gentry  usually  *  carry  about  them)  and  sir  Henry 
Wotton  consenting  to  the  motion,  took  an  occasion  from  some 


"  Universal  language.']  Latin. 

3  Augusta.~\  Augsburg. 

1  Usually  J\  In  the  British  Museum  are  several  hundred  of  these  albums. 


90  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

accidental  discourse  of  the  present  company,  to  write  a  pleasant 
definition  of  an  ambassador,  in  these  very  words : 

"  Legatus  est  vir  bonus  peregre  missus  ad  mentiendum  reipublicae  causa." 

Which  sir  Henry  Wotton  could  have  been  content  should  have 
been  thus  Englished : 

"  An  ambassador  is  an  honest  man,  sent  to  lie  abroad  for  the  good  of  his 
country." 

But  the  word  for  lie  (being  the  hinge  upon  which  the  conceit  * 
was  to  turn)  was  not  so  exprest  in  Latin,  as  would  admit  (in  the 
hands  of  an  enemy  especially)  so  fair  a  construction  as  sir  Henry 
thought  in  English.  Yet  as  it  was,  it  slept  quietly  among  other 
sentences  in  this  albo,  almost  eight  years,  till  by  accident  it  fell 
into  the  hands  of  Jasper  Scioppius,  a  Romanist,  a  man  of  a  rest- 
less spirit,  and  a  malicious  pen :  who  with  books  against  king 
James,  prints  this  as  a  principle  of  that  religion  professed  by  the 
king,  and  his  ambassador  sir  Henry  Wotton,  then  at  Venice: 
and  in  Venice  it  was  presently  after  written  in  several  glass  win- 
dows, and  spitefully  declared  to  be  sir  Henry  Wotton's. 

This  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  king  James,  he  apprehended 
it  to  be  such  an  oversight,  such  a  weakness,  or  worse,  in  sir 
Henry  Wotton,  as  caused  the  king  to  express  much  wrath 
against  him :  and  this  caused  sir  Henry  Wotton  to  write  two 
apologies,  one  to  Velserus 6  (one  of  the  chiefs  of  Augusta)  in 
the  universal  language,  which  he  caused  to  be  printed,  and  given, 
and  scattered  in  the  most  remarkable  places  both  of  Germany 
and  Italy,  as  an  antidote  against  the  venomous  books  of  Sciop- 
pius ;  and  another  apology  to  king  James :  which  were  both  so 
ingenious,  so  clear,  and  so  choicely  eloquent,  that  his  majesty 
(who  was  a  pure  judge  of  it)  could  not  forbear,  at  the  receipt 
thereof,  to  declare  publicly,  "  That  sir  Henry  Wotton  had  com- 
muted sufficiently  for  a  greater  offence." 

And  now,  as  broken  bones  well  set  become  stronger,  so  sir 
Henry  Wotton  did  not  only  recover,  but  was  much  more  con- 

6  The  conceit. ~\  Being  a  mere  pun  upon  the  term  lieger,  to  lie  or  remain  in 
a  place,  applied  commonly  to  a  resident  or  fixed  ambassador.  The  word  was 
used  in  monasteries,  which  had  their  lieger  books,  or  books  which  lay  open 
for  entries,  and  it  is  still  used  in  every  counting-house.  It  is  probably  also 
the  log  book  of  the  seamen. 

*  To  Velserus.']  Marc  Welser,  prefect  of  Augsburg. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  91 

firmed  in  his  majesty's  estimation  and  favour  than  formerly  he 
had  been. 

And  as  that  man  of  great  wit  and  useful  fancy  (his  friend  Dr. 
Donne)  gave  in  a  will  of  his  (a  will  of  conceits)  his  reputation  to 
his  friends,  and  his  industry  to  his  foes,  because  from  thence  he 
received  both :  so  those  friends,  that  in  this  time  of  trial  la- 
boured to  excuse  this  facetious  freedom  of  sir  Henry  Wotton's, 
were  to  him  more  dear,  and  by  him  more  highly  valued  :  and 
those  acquaintance  that  urged  this  as  an  advantage  against  him, 
caused  him  by  this  error  to  grow  both  more  wise,  and  (which  is 
the  best  fruit  error  can  bring  forth)  for  the  future  to  become 
more  industriously  watchful  over  his  tongue  and  pen. 

I  have  told  you  a  part  of  his  employment  in  Italy ;  where  not- 
withstanding the  death  of  his  favourer,  the  duke  Leonardo  Do- 
nato,  who  had  an  undissembled  affection  for  him,  and  the  mali- 
cious accusation  of  Scioppius,  yet  his  interest  (as  though  it  had 
been  an  intailed  love)  was  still  found  to  live  and  increase  in  all 
the  succeeding  dukes,  during  his  employment  to  that  state,  which 
was  almost  twenty  years ;  all  which  time  he  studied  the  disposi- 
tions of  those  dukes,  and  the  other  consulters  of  state ;  well 
knowing,  that  he  who  negociates  a  continued  business,  and 
neglects  the  study  of  the  dispositions,  usually  fails  in  his  proposed 
ends :  but  in  this  sir  Henry  Wotton  did  not  fail :  for  by  a  fine 
sorting  of  fit  presents,  curious  and  not  costly  entertainments, 
always  sweetened  by  various  and  pleasant  discourse ;  with  which, 
and  his  choice  application  of  stories,  and  his  elegant  delivery  of 
all  these,  even  in  their  Italian  language,  he  first  got,  and  still 
preserved  such  interest  in  the  state  of  Venice,  that  it  was  ob- 
served (such  was  either  his  merit,  or  his  modesty)  they  never 
denied  him  any  request. 

But  all  this  shews  but  his  abilities,  and  his  fitness  for  that 
employment :  it  will  therefore  be  needful  to  tell  the  reader,  what 
use  he  made  of  the  interest  which  these  procured  him ;  and  that 
indeed  was,  rather  to  oblige  others  than  to  enrich  himself;  he 
still  endeavouring  that  the  reputation  of  the  English  might  be 
maintained,  both  in  the  German  empire  and  in  Italy ;  where  many 
gentlemen  whom  travel  had  invited  into  that  nation,  received 
from  him  cheerful  entertainments,  advice  for  their  behaviour, 
and  by  his  interest  shelter,  or  deliverance  from  those  accidental 
storms  of  adversity  which  usually  attend  upon  travel. 

And  because  these  things  may  appear  to  the  reader  to  be  but 


92  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

generals,  I  shall  acquaint  him  with  two  particular  examples :  one 
of  his  merciful  disposition,  and  one  of  the  nobleness  of  his  mind  ; 
which  shall  follow. 

There  had  been  many  English  soldiers  brought  by  commanders 
of  their  own  country,  to  serve  the  Venetians  for  pay  against  the 
Turks ;  and  those  English,  having  by  irregularities,  or  improvi- 
dence, brought  themselves  into  several  gallies  and  prisons,  sir 
Henry  Wotton  became  a  petitioner  to  that  state  for  their  lives 
and  enlargement ;  and  his  request  was  granted :  so  that  those 
(which  were  many  hundreds,  and  there  made  the  sad  examples 
of  human  misery,  by  hard  imprisonment,  and  unpitied  poverty  in 
a  strange  nation)  were  by  his  means  released,  relieved,  and  in  a 
comfortable  condition  sent  to  thank  God  and  him  for  their  lives 
and  liberty  in  their  own  country. 

And  this  1  have  observed  as  one  testimony  of  the  compas- 
sionate nature  of  him,  who  was  (during  his  stay  in  those  parts) 
as  a  city  of  refuge  for  the  distressed  of  this  and  other  nations. 

And  for  that  which  I  offer  as  a  testimony  of  the  nobleness 
of  his  mind,  I  shall  make  way  to  the  reader's  clearer  under- 
standing of  it,  by  telling  him,  that  beside  several  other  foreign 
employments,  sir  Henry  Wotton  was  sent  thrice  ambassador f  to 
the  republic  of  Venice ;  and  at  his  last  going  thither,  he  was 
employed  ambassador  to  several  of  the  German  princes,  and  more 
particularly  to  the  emperor  Ferdinando  the  second ;  and  that  his 
employment  to  him,  and  those  princes,  was  to  incline  them  to 
equitable  conditions,  for  the  restauration  of  the  queen  of  Bo- 
hemia 8,  and  her  descendants,  to  their  patrimonial  inheritance  of 
the  palatinate. 

This  was  by  his  eight  months  constant  endeavours  and  at- 
tendance upon  the  emperor,  his  court  and  council,  brought  to 
a  probability  of  a  successful  conclusion  without  blood-shed  :  but 
there  was  at  that  time  two  opposite  armies  in  the  field ;  and  as 
they  were  treating,  there  was  a  battle  fought 9 ;  in  the  managery 
whereof,  there  was  so  many  miserable  errors  on  the  one  side,  (so 
sir  Henry  Wotton  expresses  it  in  a  dispatch  to  the  king)  and 

^  Thrice  ambassador.]  In  March,  1604;  in  1605  (Harl.  MS.  1875,  art.  17, 
&c.)  and  1622  (see  Cabala,  p.  364). 

8  Queen  of  Bohemia.]   Elizabeth  of  England,  daughter  of  James  I.,  and 
wife  of  the  palgrave,  or  elector  palatine  Frederic,  who  had  forfeited  his  domi- 
nions by  his  assumption  of  the  throne  of  Bohemia. 

9  Battle  fouyht.]  The  battle  of  Prague,  November,  1620. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  93 

so  advantageous  events  to  the  emperor,  as  put  an  end  to  all 
present  hopes  of  a  successful  treaty :  so  that  sir  Henry,  seeing 
the  face  of  peace  altered  by  that  victory,  prepared  for  a  removal 
from  that  court ;  and  at  his  departure  from  the  emperor,  was  so 
bold  as  to  remember  him,  "  That  the  events  of  every  battle  move 
on  the  unseen  wheels  of  fortune,  which  are  this  moment  up,  and 
down  the  next :  and  therefore  humbly  advised  him  to  use  his 
victory  so  soberly,  as  still  to  put  on  thoughts  of  peace."  Which 
advice,  though  it  seemed  to  be  spoke  with  some  passion,  (his 
dear  mistress  the  queen  of  Bohemia  being  concerned  in  it)  was 
yet  taken  in  good  part  by  the  emperor;  who  replied,  "  That  he 
would  consider  his  advice  :  and  though  he  looked  on  the  king  his 
master  as  an  abettor  of  his  enemy  the  Palsgrave ;  yet  for  sir 
Henry  himself,  his  behaviour  had  been  such  during  the  manage 
of  the  treaty,  that  he  took  him  to  be  a  person  of  much  honour 
and  merit,  and  did  therefore  desire  him  to  accept  of  that  jewel, 
as  a  testimony  of  his  good  opinion  of  him ;"  which  was  a  jewel  of 
diamonds  of  more  value  than  a  thousand  pounds. 

This  jewel  was  received  with  all  outward  circumstances  and 
terms  of  honour  by  sir  Henry  Wotton :  but  the  next  morning, 
at  his  departing  from  Vienna,  he  at  his  taking  leave  of  the 
countess  of  Sabrina  (an  Italian  lady,  in  whose  house  the  emperor 
had  appointed  him  to  be  lodged,  and  honourably  entertained) 
acknowledged  her  merits,  and  besought  her  to  accept  of  that 
jewel,  as  a  testimony  of  his  gratitude  for  her  civilities ;  presenting 
her  with  the  same  that  was  given  him  by  the  emperor :  which 
being  suddenly  discovered,  and  told  to  the  emperor,  was  by  him 
taken  for  a  high  affront,  and  sir  Henry  Wotton  told  so  by  a 
messenger.  To  which  he  replied,  "  That  though  he  received  it 
with  thankfulness,  yet  he  found  in  himself  an  indisposition  to  be 
the  better  for  any  gift  that  came  from  an  enemy  to  his  royal 
mistress  the  queen  of  Bohemia;"  for  so  she  was  pleased  he 
should  always  call  her. 

Many  other  of  his  services  to  his  prince,  and  this  nation,  might 
be  insisted  upon :  as  namely,  his  procurations  of  privileges  and 
courtesies  with  the  German  princes,  and  the  republic  of  Venice, 
for  the  English  merchants ;  and  what  he  did  by  direction  of  king 
James  with  the  Venetian  state,  concerning  the  bishop  of  Spalato's 
return l  to  the  church  of  Rome.  But  for  the  particulars  of  these 

1  The  bishop  of  Spalato's  return.']    See  M.  Ant.  de  Dominis  archbishop  of 


94  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

and  many  more  that  I  meant  to  make  known,  I  want  a  view  of 
some  papers  that  might  inform  me  (his  late  majesty^s  letter  office 
having  now  suffered*  a  strange  alienation)  and  indeed  I  want 
time  too,  for  the  printer's  press  stays  for  what  is  written :  so  that 
I  must  haste  to  bring  sir  Henry  Wotton  in  an  instant  from  Venice 
to  London,  leaving  the  reader  to  make  up  what  is  defective  in 
this  place  by  the  small  supplement  of  the  inscription  under  his 
arms,  which  he  left  at  all  those  houses  where  he  rested,  or  lodged, 
when  he  returned  from  his  last  embassy  into  England. 

"  Henricus  Wottonius  Anglo-Cantianus,  Thomae  optimi  viri 
filius  natu  minimus,  a  serenissimo  Jacobo  I.  Mag.  Britt.  rege, 
in  equestrem  titulum  adscitus,  ejusdemque  ter  ad  rempublicam 
Venetam  legatus  ordinarius,  semel  ad  confoederatarum  provin- 
ciarum  ordines  in  Juliacensi  negotio ;  bis  ad  Carolum  Emanuel, 
Sabaudise  ducem ;  semel  ad  unitos  superioris  Germanise  principes 
in  Conventu  Heilbrunensi ;  postremo  ad  archiducem  Leopoldum, 
ducem  Wittembergensem,  civitates  imperiales,  Argentinam, 
Ulmamque,  et  ipsum  Eomanorum  imperatorem  Ferdinandum 
secundum,  legatus  extraordinarius,  tandem  hoc  didicit, 

"  Animas  fieri  sapientiores  quiescendo." 

To  London  he  came  the  year  before 8  king  James  died ;  who 
having  for  the  reward  of  his  foreign  service,  promised  him  the 
reversion  of  an  office  which  was  fit  to  be  turned  into  present 
money,  which  he  wanted,  for  a  supply  of  his  present  necessities, 
also  granted  him  the  reversion  of  the  master  of  the  rolls  place, 
if  he  out-lived  charitable  sir  Julius  Caesar,  who  then  possessed  it, 
and  then  was  grown  so  old,  that  he  was  said  to  be  kept  alive 
beyond  nature's  course,  by  the  prayers  of  those  many  poor  which 
he  daily  relieved. 

Spalato,  his  shif tings  in  Religion.  London,  printed  by  John  Bill,  A.D.  1624  ; 
Heylin's  Life  of  archbishop  Laud,  p.  107 — 9;  Banvick's  Life  of  bishop 
Morton,  p.  85—8 ;  Wood's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  328,  &c. 

A  copy  of  the  first  tract,  as  we  learn  from  the  Address  to  the  Reader, 
"  was  by  his  majesty's  special  commandment  sent  to  sir  H.  Wotton,  his 
majesty's  ambassador  ordinary  with  the  state  of  Venice,  that  he  might,  as 
occasion  served,  inform  that  state  concerning  the  true  carriage  of  that  busi- 
ness with  the  archbishop." 

8  Now  suffered. ]  This  Life  was  first  published  in  the  year  1651;  a  date 
which  sufficiently  accounts  for  the  tone  of  expression  in  this  passage. 

3   Year  before.]  1624. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  95 

But,  these  were  but  in  hope ;  and  his  condition  required  a 
present  support.  For  in  the  beginning  of  these  employments  he 
sold  to  his  elder  brother  the  lord  Wotton,  the  rent-charge  left 
by  his  good  father,  and  (which  is  worse)  was  now  at  his  return 
indebted  to  several  persons,  whom  he  was  not  able  to  satisfy,  but 
by  the  king's  payment  of  his  arrears  due  for  his  foreign  employ- 
ments. He  had  brought  into  England  many  servants,  of  which 
some  were  German  and  Italian  artists.  This  was  part  of  his 
condition,  who  had  many  times  hardly  sufficient  to  supply  the 
occasions  of  the  day ;  (for  it  may  by  no  means  be  said  of  his 
providence,  as  himself  said  of  sir  Philip  Sidney's  wit,  That  it  was 
the  very  measure  of  congruity)  he  being  always  so  careless  of 
money,  as  though  our  Saviour's  words,  Care  not  for  to-morrow, 
were  to  be  literally  understood. 

But  it  pleased  the  God  of  providence,  that  in  this  juncture  of 
time,  the  provostship  of  his  majesty's  college  of  Eton  became 
void  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Murray 4,  for  which  there  were 
(as  the  place  deserved)  many  earnest  and  powerful  suiters 5  to  the 
king.  And  sir  Henry,  who  had  for  many  years  (like  Sisyphus) 
rolled  the  restless  stone  of  a  state  employment,  knowing  experi- 
mentally, that  the  great  blessing  of  sweet  content  was  not  to  be 
found  in  multitudes  of  men  or  business ;  and  that  a  college  was 
the  fittest  place  to  nourish  holy  thoughts,  and  to  afford  rest  both 
to  his  body  and  mind,  which  his  age  (being  now  almost  threescore 
years)  seemed  to  require,  did  therefore  use  his  own,  and  the 
interest  of  all  his  friends  to  procure  that  place.  By  which  means, 
and  quitting  the  king  of  his  promised  reversionary  offices,  and  by 
a  piece  of  honest  policy  (which  I  have  not  time  to  relate)  he  got 
a  grant  of  it 6  from  his  majesty. 

And  this  was  a  fair  satisfaction  to  his  mind :  but  money  was 
wanting7  to  furnish  him  with  those  necessaries  which  attend 

4  Mr.  Thomas  Murray. ~\  Who  had  succeeded  sir  Henry  Savile  as  provost. 

5  Powerful  suiters.~\  Two  of  these  were  lord  Bacon  and  sir  Wm.  Becher. 
See  Bacon's  Works,  vol.  vi.  p.  345,  6.  edit.  1803.     Sir  William  Becher  asserts, 
in  a  letter  to  the  duke  of  Buckingham,  that  he  had  from  the  king  an  express 
promise  of  the  place.     Amongst  the  other  candidates  were  sir  Albertus 
Morton,  sir  Dudley  Carleton,  and  sir  Robert  Ayton. 

0  A  grant  of  it.']  He  was  instituted  26th  July,  1624. 

7  Money  was  wanting.']  "  When  he  went  to  the  election  at  Eton,  soon  after 
his  being  made  provost,  he  was  so  ill  provided,  that  the  fellows  of  the  college 
were  obliged  to  furnish  his  bare  walls,  and  whatever  else  was  wanting."  See 
Birch's  Letters  of  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon,  p.  338,  note. 


96  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

removes,  and  a  settlement  in  such  a  place ;  and,  to  procure  that, 
he  wrote  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  Nicholas  Pey,  for  his  assistance ; 
of  which  Nicholas  Pey,  I  shall  here  say  a  little,  for  the  clearing 
of  some  passages  that  I  shall  mention  hereafter. 

He  was  in  his  youth  a  clerk,  or  in  some  such  way,  a  servant  to 
the  lord  Wotton,  sir  Henry^s  brother ;  and  by  him,  when  he  was 
comptroller  of  the  king's  houshold,  was  made  a  great  officer  in 
his  majesty's  house.  This,  and  other  favours  being  conferred  upon 
Mr.  Pey  (in  whom  there  was  a  radical  honesty)  were  always 
thankfully  acknowledged  by  him,  and  his  gratitude  exprest  by  a 
willing  and  unwearied  serviceableness  to  that  family  even  till  his 
death.  To  him  sir  Henry  Wotton  wrote,  to  use  all  his  interest 
at  court,  to  procure  five  hundred  pounds  of  his  arrears,  (for  less 
would  not  settle  him  in  the  college)  and  the  want  of  such  a  sum 
wrinkled  Ms  face  with  care  (it  was  his  own  expression)  ;  and  that 
money  being  procured,  he  should  the  next  day  after  find  him  in 
his  college,  and  Invidice  remedium  writ  over  his  study-door. 

This  money,  being  part  of  his  arrears,  was  by  his  own,  and  the 
help  of  honest  Nicholas  Pey's  interest  in  court,  quickly  procured 
him ;  and  he  as  quickly  in  the  college  ;  the  place  where  indeed 
his  happiness  then  seemed  to  have  its  beginning :  the  college 
being  to  his  mind  as  a  quiet  harbour  to  a  sea-faring  man  after  a 
tempestuous  voyage ;  where,  by  the  bounty  of  the  pious  founder  *, 
his  very  food  and  raiment  were  plentifully  provided  for  him  in 
kind,  and  more  money  than  enough ;  where  he  was  freed  from  all 
corroding  cares,  and  seated  on  such  a  rock,  as  the  waves  of 
want  could  not  probably  shake;  where  he  might  sit  in  a  calm9, 
and  looking  down,  behold  the  busy  multitude  turmoilod  and 
tossed  in  a  tempestuous  sea  of  trouble  and  dangers  !  And  (as 
sir  William  Davenant  has  happily  exprest  the  like  of  another 
person) 

"  Laugh  at  the  graver  business  of  the  state, 
Which  speaks  men  rather  wise  than  fortunate." 

Being  thus  settled  according  to  the  desires  of  his  heart,  his 

8  Where,  by  the  bounty  of  the  pious  founder."] 

"  Where  grateful  science  still  adores 

Her  Henry's  holy  shade."  Gray. 

9  In  a  calm.'] 

Suave,  mari  magno  turbantibus  aequora  ventis, 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spec  tare  laborem. 

Lucretius,  ii.  1. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  97 

first  study  was  the  statutes  of  the  college  :  by  which  he  conceived 
himself  bound  to  enter  into  holy  orders,  which  he  did ;  being 
made  deacon l  with  all  convenient  speed :  shortly  after  which 
time,  as  he  came  in  his  surplice  from  the  church-service,  an  old 
friend,  a  person  of  quality,  met  him  so  attired,  and  joyed  him  of 
his  new  habit ;  to  whom  sir  Henry  Wotton  replied,  "  I  thank 
God  and  the  king,  by  whose  goodness  I  now  am  in  this  condi- 
tion ;  a  condition,  which  that  emperor  Charles  the  fifth  seemed 
to  approve :  who,  after  so  many  remarkable  victories,  when  his 
glory  was  great  in  the  eyes  of  all  men,  freely  gave  up  his  crown, 
and  the  many  cares  that  attended  it,  to  Philip  his  son,  making  a 
holy  retreat  to  a  cloisteral  life,  where  he  might  by  devout  medita- 
tions consult  with  God  (which  the  rich  or  busy  men  seldom  do) 
and  have  leisure  both  to  examine  the  errors  of  his  life  past,  and 
prepare  for  that  great  day,  wherein  all  flesh  must  make  an 
account  of  their  actions.  And  after  a  kind  of  tempestuous  life,  I 
now  have  the  like  advantage  from  him,  that  makes  the  out-goings 
of  the  morning  to  praise  him ;  even  from  my  God,  whom  I  daily 
magnify  for  this  particular  mercy,  of  an  exemption  from  business, 
a  quiet  mind,  and  a  liberal  maintenance,  even  in  this  part  of  my 
life,  when  my  age  and  infirmities  seem  to  sound  me  a  retreat 
from  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  and  invite  me  to  contemplation, 
in  which  I  have  ever  taken  the  greatest  felicity."" 

And  now  to  speak  a  little  of  the  employment  of  his  time  in  the 
college.  After  his  customary  public  devotions,  his  use  was  to 
retire  into  his  study,  and  there  to  spend  some  hours  in  reading 
the  Bible,  and  authors  in  divinity,  closing  up  his  meditations  with 
private  prayer ;  this  was,  for  the  most  part,  his  employment 
in  the  forenoon.  But,  when  he  was  once  sat  to  dinner,  then 
nothing  but  cheerful  thoughts  possessed  his  mind ;  and  those 
still  increased  by  constant  company  at  his  table,  of  such  persons 
as  brought  thither  additions  both  of  learning  and  pleasure ;  but 
some  part  of  most  days  was  usually  spent  in  philosophical  con- 
clusions. Nor  did  he  forget  his  innate  pleasure  of  angling 2, 

1  Made  deacon."]  A.D.  1627.     Upon  this  occasion  he  wrote  an  interesting 
letter  to  the  king,  which  is  preserved  in  his  Remains,  p.  327,  edit.  1685.     His 
design  was  to  have  received  orders  at  the  hands  of  Williams,  bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, visitor  of  his  college ;  but  in  that  he  was  disappointed,  by  a  sudden 
command  from  the  king,  that  Williams  should  quit  London.     See  Remains, 
p.  326. 

2  Innate  pleasure  of  angling .]  "My  next  and  last  example"  (of  the  dear 

VOL.    IV.  H 


98  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

which  he  would  usually  call,  his  idle  time,  not  idly  spmt ; 
saying  often,  he  would  rather  live  five  May  months,  than  forty 
Decembers. 

He  was  a  great  lover  of  his  neighbours,  and  a  bountiful 
entertainer  of  them  very  often  at  his  table,  where  his  meat  was 
choice,  and  his  discourse  better. 

He  was  a  constant  cherisher  of  all  those  youths  in  that  school, 
in  whom  he  found  either  a  constant  diligence,  or  a  genius  that 
prompted  them  to  learning,  for  whose  encouragement,  he  was 
(beside  many  other  things  of  necessity  and  beauty)  at  the  charge 
of  setting  up  in  it  two  rows  of  pillars,  on  which  he  caused  to  be 
choicely  drawn,  the  pictures  of  divers  of  the  most  famous  Greek 
and  Latin  historians,  poets,  and  orators :  persuading  them  not  to 
neglect  rhetoric,  because  almighty  God  has  left  mankind  affec- 
tions to  be  wrought  upon :  and  he  would  often  say,  That  none 
despised  eloquence,  but  such  dull  souls  as  were  not  capable  of  it. 
He  would  also  often  make  choice  of  some  observations  out  of 
those  historians  and  poets:  and  would  never  leave  the  school 

lovers  and  great  practisers  of  angling,  being  at  the  same  time  eminent  for 
learning)  "  shall  be  that  undervaluer  of  money,  the  late  provost  of  Eton 
college,  sir  Henry  Wotton,  a  man  with  whom  I  have  often  fished  and  con- 
versed ;  a  man  whose  foreign  employments  in  the  service  of  this  nation,  and 
whose  experience,  learning,  wit,  and  cheerfulness,  made  his  company  to  be 
esteemed  one  of  the  delights  of  mankind.  This  man,  whose  very  approba- 
tion of  angling  were  sufficient  to  convince  any  modest  censurer  of  it,  was 
also  a  most  dear  lover,  and  a  frequent  practiser  of  my  art :  of  which  he  would 
say,  '  'Twas  an  employment  for  his  idle  time,  which  was  then  not  idly  spent : 
for  angling  was,  after  tedious  study,  a  rest  to  his  mind,  a  cheerer  of  his  spirits, 
a  diverter  of  sadness,  a  calmer  of  unquiet  thoughts,  a  moderator  of  passions, 
a  procurer  of  contentedness ;  and  that  it  begat  habits  of  peace  and  patience 
in  those  that  professed  and  practised  it.  Indeed,  my  friend,  you  will  find 
angling  to  be  like  the  virtue  of  humility,  which  has  a  calmness  of  spirit,  and 
a  world  of  other  blessings  attending  it.' 

"  Sir,  this  was  the  saying  of  that  learned  man.  And  I  do  easily  believe 
that  peace  and  patience,  and  a  calm  content,  did  cohabit  in  the  chearful  heart 
of  sir  Henry  Wotton,  because  I  know  that  when  he  was  beyond  seventy 
years  of  age,  he  made  this  description  of  a  part  of  the  present  pleasure  that 
possessed  him,  as  he  sat  quietly  in  a  summer's  evening  on  a  bank  a  fishing. 
It  is  a  description  of  the  spring;  which,  because  it  glided  as  soft  and  swet-tly 
from  his  pen,  as  that  river  does  at  this  time  by  which  it  was  then  made,  I 
shall  repeat  it  to  you. 

"  This  day  dame  Nature  seemed  in  love,  Sec.  &c. 

"  These  were  the  thoughts  that  then  possessed  the  undisturbed  mind  of  sir 
Henry  Wotton."— Walton's  Compleat  Angler,  p.  32,  edit.  1772. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  99 

without  dropping  some  choice  Greek  or  Latin  apophthegm  or 
sentence,  that  might  be  worthy  of  a  room  in  the  memory  of  a 
growing  scholar. 

He  was  pleased  constantly  to  breed  up  one  or  more  hopeful 
youths,  which  he  picked  out  of  the  school,  and  took  into  his  own 
domestic  care,  and  to  attend  him  at  his  meals ;  out  of  whose 
discourse  and  behaviour,  he  gathered  observations  for  the  better 
completing  of  his  intended  work  of  education :  of  which,  by  his 
still  striving  to  make  the  whole  better,  he  lived  to  leave  but  part 
to  posterity. 

He  was  a  great  enemy  to  wrangling  disputes  of  religion,  con- 
cerning which  I  shall  say  a  little,  both  to  testify  that,  and  to  shew 
the  readiness  of  his  wit. 

Having  at  his  being  in  Eome  made  acquaintance  with  a  plea- 
sant priest,  who  invited  him  one  evening  to  hear  their  vesper 
music  at  church,  the  priest  seeing  sir  Henry  stand  obscurely  in  a 
corner,  sends  to  him  by  a  boy  of  the  quire  this  question,  writ  in  a 
small  piece  of  paper,  "  Where  was  your  religion  to  be  found 
before  Luther  V  To  which  question  sir  Henry  presently  under- 
writ,  "  My  religion  was  to  be  found  then,  where  your's  is  not  to 
be  found  now,  in  the  written  word  of  God." 

The  next  vesper,  sir  Henry  went  purposely  to  the  same  church, 
and  sent  one  of  the  quire  boys  with  this  question  to  his  honest 
pleasant  friend,  the  priest ;  "  Do  you  believe  all  those  many  thou- 
sands of  poor  Christians  were  damned  that  were  excommunicated, 
because  the  pope,  and  the  duke  of  Venice,  could  not  agree  about 
their  temporal  power,  even  those  poor  Christians  that  knew  not 
why  they  quarrelled?  Speak  your  conscience."  To  which  he 
under- writ  in  French,  "  Monsieur,  excusez  moi." 

To  one  that  asked  him,  "  Whether  a  papist  may  be  saved?" 
he  replied,  "  You  may  be  saved  without  knowing  that.  Look  to 
yourself." 

To  another,  whose  earnestness  exceeded  his  knowledge,  and 
was  still  railing  against  the  Papists,  he  gave  this  advice,  "  Pray 
sir,  forbear  till  you  have  studied  the  points  better ;  for  the  wise 
Italians  have  this  proverb 3 ;  He  that  understands  amiss,  concludes 
worse :  and  take  heed  of  thinking,  The  farther  you  go  from  the 
church  of  Rome,  the  nearer  you  are  to  God 4." 

3  This  proverb .]  "Chi  mal  intende  peggio  decide." 

4  The  nearer  you  are  to  God.~\    So  Bishop  Horsley.     "  Take  especial  care, 
before  you  aim  your  shafts  at  Calvinism,  that  you  know  what  is  Calvinism 

H    2 


100  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

And  to  another  that  spake  indiscreet  and  bitter  words  against 
Arminius,  I  heard  him  reply  to  this  purpose : 

"  In  my  travel  towards  Venice,  as  I  past  through  Germany,  I 
rested  almost  a  year  at  Leyden,  where  I  entered  into  an  acquaint- 
ance with  Arminius  (then  the  professor  of  divinity  in  that  univer- 
sity) a  man  much  talked  of  in  this  age,  which  is  made  up  of 
opposition  and  controversy :  and  indeed,  if  I  mistake  not  Armi- 
nius in  his  expressions  (as  so  weak  a  brain  as  mine  is  may  easily 
do)  then  I  know  I  differ  from  him  in  some  points ;  yet  I  profess 
my  judgment  of  him  to  be,  that  he  was  a  man  of  most  rare  learn- 
ing, and  I  knew  him  to  be  of  a  most  strict  life,  and  of  a  most 
meek  spirit.  And  that  he  was  so  mild,  appears  by  his  proposals 
to  our  master  Perkins 5  of  Cambridge,  from  whose  book,  of  the 
Order  and  Causes  of  Salvation  (which  was  first  writ  in  Latin) 
Arminius  took  the  occasion  of  writing  some  queries  to  him  con- 
cerning the  consequents  of  his  doctrine ;  intending  them  (it  is 
said)  to  come  privately  to  Mr.  Perkins"*  own  hands,  and  to  receive 
from  him  a  like  private  and  a  like  loving  answer :  but  Mr.  Per- 
kins died  before  those  queries  came  to  him ;  and  it  is  thought 
Arminius  meant  them  to  die  with  him  ;  for  though  he  lived  long 
after,  I  have  heard  he  forbore  to  publish  them  (but  since  his 
death,  his  sons  did  not).  And  it  is  pity,  if  God  had  been  so 
pleased,  that  Mr.  Perkins  did  not  live  to  see,  consider,  and  answer 
those  proposals  himself ;  for  he  was  also  of  a  most  meek  spirit, 
and  of  great  and  sanctified  learning.  And  though  since  their 
deaths,  many  of  high  parts  and  piety  have  undertaken  to  clear 
the  controversy,  yet,  for  the  most  part,  they  have  rather  satisfied 
themselves,  than  convinced  the  dissenting  party.  And  doubtless, 
many  middle- witted  men,  (which  yet  may  mean  well)  many  scholars 
that  are  not  in  the  highest  form  for  learning,  (which  yet  may 
preach  well)  men  that  are  but  preachers,  and  shall  never  know, 
till  they  come  to  heaven,  where  the  questions  stick  betwixt  Ar- 
minius and  the  church  of  England,  (if  there  be  any)  will  yet  in 

and  what  is  not :  that  in  that  mass  of  doctrine,  which  it  is  of  late  become  the 
fashion  to  abuse  under  the  name  of  Calvinism,  you  can  distinguish  with  cer- 
tainty between  that  part  of  it  which  is  nothing  better  than  Calvinism,  and 
that  which  belongs  to  our  common  Christianity  and  the  general  faith  of  the 
reformed  churches,  lest  when  you  mean  only  to  fall  foul  of  Calvinism,  you 
should  unwarily  attack  something  more  sacred  and  of  higher  origin." — Charge 
at  St.  Asaph,  1806,  p.  26. 

5  Master  Perkins.]  William  Perkins. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  101 

this  world  be  tampering  with,  and  thereby  perplexing  the  con- 
troversy, and  do  therefore  justly  fall  under  the  reproof6  of  St. 
Jude,  for  being  busy-bodies,  and  for  meddling  with  things  they 


And  here  it  offers  itself  (I  think  not  unfitly)  to  tell  the  reader, 
that  a  friend  of  sir  Henry  Wotton's,  being  designed  for  the  em- 
ployment of  an  ambassador,  came  to  Eton,  and  requested  from 
him  some  experimental  rules  for  his  prudent  and  safe  carriage  in 
his  negociations ;  to  whom  he  smilingly  gave  this  for  an  infallible 
aphorism ;  "  That,  to  be  in  safety  himself,  and  serviceable  to  his 
country,  he  should  always,  and  upon  all  occasions  speak  the 
truth  (it  seems  a  state-paradox)  for,  says  sir  Henry  Wotton, 
you  shall  never  be  believed ;  and  by  this  means,  your  truth  will 
secure  yourself,  if  you  shall  ever  be  called  to  any  account ;  and  it 
will  also  put  your  adversaries  (who  will  still  hunt  counter)  to  a 
loss  in  all  their  disquisitions  and  undertakings." 

Many  more  of  this  nature  might  be  observed,  but  they  must 
be  laid  aside ;  for  I  shall  here  make  a  little  stop,  and  invite  the 

6  Fall  under  the  reproof.']  There  were  not  wanting  occasionally  a  few  other 
learned  men,  who,  in  these  turbulent  times,  had  wisdom  enough  to  discourage 
the  promiscuous  agitation  of  these  thorny  and  perplexed  controversies. 
Among  others  who  might  be  cited,  we  shall  be  contented  to  refer  to  the 
example  of  Dr.  Richard  Field,  author  of  the  Five  Books  of  the  Church,  who  is 
said  to  have  been  the  intimate  friend  of  Richard  Hooker ;  and  whose  writings 
display  no  small  portion  of  the  meekness  of  spirit,  the  depth  of  thought,  and 
the  learning  of  that  admirable  man. 

"He  did  not  like"  (as  his  son  informs  us)  "so  much  disputing  about 
those  high  points  of  predestination  and  reprobation,  which  have  so  much 
troubled  the  church  of  late  years,  and  in  ancient  times  ;  about  which  the 
Dominicans  and  the  Jesuites,  the  Lutherans  and  the  Calvinists,  are  so  much 
divided.  He  did  not  like  that  men  should  be  so  busy  in  determining  what 
God  decrees  in  heaven,  whose  counsels  are  unsearchable,  and  whose  ways  are 
past  finding  out. 

"  Being  at  Oxford  at  the  act,  when  doctor  Abbot,  who  was  then  regius 
professor,  and  doctor  of  the  chair,  first  began  to  read  upon  those  points  which 
are  commonly  called  the  Arminian  points  ;  after  he  had  heard  him,  being 
returned  unto  his  lodging,  he  was  very  much  offended  at  it,  and  said  unto 
doctor  Bostock,  who  was  then  present  with  him,  You  are  a  young  man,  and 
may  live  to  see  great  troubles  in  the  church  of  England,  occasioned  by  these  dis- 
putes. Oxford  hath  hitherto  been  free  from  these  disputes,  though  Cambridge 
hath  been  much  disquieted  with  them.  They  are  disputes  which  have  troubled 
the  peace  of  the  church  above  nine  hundred  years  already,  and  will  not  now  be 
ended.  In  points  of  such  extreme  difficulty  he  did  not  think  fit  to  be  too 
positive  in  defining  any  thing ;  to  turn  matters  of  opinion  into  matters  of 
faith."  Short  Memorials  concerning  the  Life  of  Doctor  Richard  Field,  written 
by  his  Son,  p.  21.  Compare  Barwick's  Life  of  Bishop  Morton,  p.  153. 


102  SIR  HENRY  WOTTOX. 

reader  to  look  back  with  me,  whilst,  according  to  my  promise,  I 
shall  say  a  little  of  sir  Albertus  Morton,  and  Mr.  William  Bedel, 
whom  I  formerly  mentioned. 

I  have  told  you  that  are  my  reader,  that  at  sir  Henry  Wotton's 
first  going  ambassador  into  Italy,  his  cousin,  sir  Albert  Morton, 
went  his  secretary :  and  am  next  to  tell  you,  that  sir  Albertus 
died  secretary  of  state  to  our  late  king ;  but  cannot,  am  not  able 
to  express  the  sorrow  that  possest  sir  Henry  Wotton  at  his  first 
hearing  the  news  that  sir  Albertus  was  by  death  lost  to  him  and 
this  world ;  and  yet,  the  reader  may  partly  guess  by  these  follow- 
ing expressions ;  the  first  in  a  letter  to  his  Nicholas  Pey,  of  which 
this  that  folio weth  is  a  part. 

" And  my  dear  Nick,  when  I  had  been  here  almost  a  fort- 
night, in  the  midst  of  my  great  contentment,  I  received  notice  of 
sir  Albertus  Morton's  departure  out  of  this  world,  who  was 
dearer  to  me,  than  mine  own  being  in  it.  What  a  wound  it  is 
to  my  heart,  you  that  knew  him,  and  know  me,  will  easily  believe : 
but,  our  Creator's  will  must  be  done,  and  unrepiningly  received 
by  his  own  creatures,  who  is  the  Lord  of  all  nature,  and  of  all 
fortune,  when  he  taketh  to  himself  now  one,  and  then  another, 
till  that  expected  day,  wherein  it  shah1  please  him  to  dissolve  the 
whole,  and  wrap  up  even  the  heaven  itself  as  a  scroll  of  parch- 
ment. This  is  the  last  philosophy  that  we  must  study  upon 
earth ;  let  us  therefore  that  yet  remain  here,  as  our  days  and 
friends  waste,  reinforce  our  love  to  each  other ;  which  of  all  vir- 
tues, both  spiritual  and  moral,  hath  the  highest  privilege,  because 
death  itself  cannot  end  it.  And  my  good  Nick,"  &c. 

This  is  a  part  of  his  sorrow  thus  exprest  to  his  Nick  Pey ;  the 
other  part  is  in  this  following  elegy,  of  which  the  reader  may 
safely  conclude,  it  was  too  hearty  to  be  dissembled. 

TEARS  WEPT  AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  SIR  ALBERTl'S  MORTON, 
BY  HENRY  WOTTON. 

Silence  in  truth  would  speak  my  sorrow  best, 

For  deepest  wounds  can  least  their  feeling  tell ; 
Yet  let  me  borrow  from  mine  own  unrest, 

A  time  to  bid  him  whom  I  lov'd  farewell. 

Oh,  my  unhappy  lines  !  you  that  before 

Have  serv'd  my  youth  to  vent  some  wanton  cries, 

And  now  congeal'd  with  grief,  can  scarce  implore 
Strength  to  accent,  HERE  MY  ALBERTUS  LIES. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  103 

This  is  that  sable  stone,  this  is  the  cave 

And  womb  of  earth,  that  doth  his  corpse  embrace  ; 

While  others  sing  his  praise,  let  me  engrave 
These  bleeding  numbers  to  adorn  the  place. 

Here  will  I  paint  the  characters  of  woe ; 

Here  will  I  pay  my  tribute  to  the  dead ; 
And  here  my  faithful  tears  in  showers  shall  flow 

To  humanize  the  flints  on  which  I  tread. 

Where  though  I  mourn  my  matchless  loss  alone, 
And  none  between  my  weakness  judge  and  me ; 

Yet  even  these  pensive  walls  allow  my  moan, 
Whose  doleful  echoes  to  my  plaints  agree. 

But  is  he  gone !  and  live  I  rhyming  here, 

As  if  some  muse  would  listen  to  my  lay  ? 
When  all  distun'd  sit  waiting  for  their  dear, 

And  bathe  the  banks  where  he  was  wont  to  play. 

Dwell  then  in  endless  bliss  with  happy  souls, 
Discharged  from  nature's  and  from  fortune's  trust, 

Whilst  on  this  fluid  globe  my  hour-glass  rolls, 
And  runs  the  rest  of  my  remaining  dust. 

H.  W. 

This  concerning  his  sir  Albertus  Morton. 

And  for  what  I  shall  say  concerning  Mr.  William  Bedel  I  must 
prepare  the  reader  by  telling  him,  that  when  king  James  sent  sir 
Henry  Wotton  ambassador  to  the  state  of  Venice,  he  sent  also 
an  ambassador  to  the  king  of  France 7,  and  another  to  the  king  of 
Spain 8 ;  with  the  ambassador  of  France  went  Joseph  Hall  (late 
bishop  of  Norwich)  whose  many  and  useful  works  speak  his  great 
merit :  with  the  ambassador  of  Spain  went  James  Wadsworth ; 
and  with  sir  Henry  Wotton  went  William  Bedel. 

These  three  chaplains  to  these  three  ambassadors,  were  all  bred 
in  one  university,  all  of  one f  college,  all  beneficed  in  one  diocese, 
and  all  most  dear  and  entire  friends :  but  in  Spain  Mr.  Wads- 
worth  met  with  temptations9,  or  reasons,  such  as  were  so  power  - 

7  To  the  king  of  France.]  Sir  Thomas  Parry. 

8  To  the  king  of  Spain.]  Sir  Charles  Cornwallis. 
1  Emmanuel  College,  in  Cambridge. 

9  Met  with  temptations.]  We  have  the  following  account  written  by  his  son. 
"  At  his  first  arrival "  (in  Spain)  "  the  Jesuits  held  with  him  a  subtle  dispute 
about  the  antiquity  and  the  universality  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  which  they 
make  their  preface  to  all  seducements;   his  grand  opposers  being  Joseph 


104  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

ful,  as  to  persuade  him  (who  of  the  three,  was  formerly  observed 
to  be  the  most  averse  to  that  religion  that  calls  itself  Catholic) 
to  disclaim  himself  a  member  of  the  church  of  England,  and  de- 
clare himself  for  the  church  of  Rome ;  discharging  himself  of  his 
attendance  on  the  ambassador,  and  betaking  himself  to  a  monas- 
terial  life ;  in  which  he  lived  very  regularly,  and  so  died. 

When  Dr.  Hall  (the  late  bishop  of  Norwich)  came  into  Eng- 
land, he  wrote  to  Mr.  Wadsworth  (it  is  the  first  epistle  in  his 
printed  decads)  to  persuade  his  return,  or  to  shew  the  reason  of 
his  apostacy.  The  letter  seemed  to  have  in  it  many  sweet  ex- 
pressions of  love ;  and  yet  there  was  in  it  some  expression  that 
was  so  unpleasant  to  Mr.  Wadsworth,  that  he  chose  rather  to 
acquaint  his  old  friend  Mr.  Bedel  with  his  motives ;  by  which 
means  there  past  betwixt  Mr.  Bedel  and  Mr.  Wadsworth  divers 
letters,  which  be  extant  in  print  *,  and  did  well  deserve  it ;  for  in 
them  there  seems  to  be  a  controversy,  not  of  religion  only,  but 
who  should  answer  each  other  with  most  love  and  meekness: 
which  I  mention  the  rather,  because  it  too  seldom  falls  out  to  be 
so  in  a  book-war. 

Cresswell  and  Henry  Walpole,  two  the  most  expert  politicians  of  our  nation, 
that  then  maintained  the  state  of  the  triple  crown;  whose  understanding 
nevertheless  would  not  prove  captive  either  to  the  subtilest  arguments,  or 
most  alluring  promises.  The  embassador  seeing  how  wisely  he  quitted  him- 
self, sent  letters  to  his  majesty  informing  him  how  learnedly  he  was  accom- 
panied,— Meanwhile  the  Jesuits  perceiving  how  little  they  prevailed,  used 
other  illusions  stronger  than  their  arguments,  even  strange  apparitions  of 
miracles  :  amongst  others,  the  miracle  which  they  pretend  to  be  true  to  have 
happened  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  lord  Wotton  at  his  death,  in  the  city  Valla- 
dolid,  where  a  crucifix  framed  him  this  articulate  sound,  Now  forsake  your 
heresy,  or  else  you  are  damned;  whereupon  the  young  lord  and  my  father 
became  proselytes  to  their  juggling  religion,  the  report  whereof  not  long  after 
became  a  load-stone  also  to  the  old  lord  Wotton  his  father,  with  many  others, 
to  draw  them  to  popish  idolatry.  And  so  my  father,  leaving  the  embassador's 
house  privately,  and  discarding  his  wife  and  children,  and  fortunes  in  Eng- 
land, was  conducted  forthwith  by  the  means  of  father  Cresswell  to  the 
university  of  Salamanca,  whereat  the  next  day  after  his  arrival,  he  was  car- 
ried to  the  bishop's,  then  inquisitor's,  house,  where  he  was  admitted  with  no 
little  joy  to  their  church ;  where  he  prostrating  himself  on  the  ground,  and 
the  inquisitor  putting,  as  their  custom  is,  his  right  foot  on  his  head,  said 
with  a  loud  voice,  Here  I  crush  the  head  of  heresy  ;  the  which  ceremony  and 
others  ended,  after  a  month's  abode  in  the  said  university,  he  passed  with 
Cresswell  to  the  court  of  Madrid."  English  Spanish  Pilgrim,  p.  2,  3. 

1  Extant  in  print.]  They  were  printed  by  (bishop)  Burnet,  at  the  close  of 
his  Life  of  Bishop  Bedel,  in  the  year  1685. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  105 

There  is  yet  a  little  more  to  be  said  of  Mr.  Bedel,  for  the 
greatest  part  of  which  the  reader  is  referred  to  this  following 
letter  of  sir  Henry  Wotton's,  writ  to  our  late  king  Charles  the 
first. 

"  May  it  please  your  most  gracious  majesty, 

"  Having  been  informed  that  persons  have,  by  the  good  wishes 
of  the  archbishop  of  Armagh,  been  directed  hither,  with  a  most 
humble  petition  unto  your  majesty,  that  you  will  be  pleased  to 
make  Mr.  William  Bedel  (now  resident  upon  a  small  benefice  in 
Suffolk)  governor  of  your  college  at  Dublin,  for  the  good  of  that 
society ;  and  myself  being  required  to  render  unto  your  majesty 
some  testimony  of  the  said  William  Bedel,  who  was  long  my 
chaplain  at  Venice,  in  the  time  of  my  first  employment  there ;  I 
am  bound  in  all  conscience  and  truth  (so  far  as  your  majesty  will 
vouchsafe  to  accept  my  poor  judgment)  to  affirm  of  him,  that  I 
think  hardly  a  fitter  man  for  that  charge  could  have  been  pro- 
pounded unto  your  majesty  in  your  whole  kingdom,  for  singular 
erudition  and  piety,  conformity  to  the  rites  of  the  church,  and 
zeal  to  advance  the  cause  of  God,  wherein  his  travels  abroad 
were  not  obscure,  in  the  time  of  the  excommunication  of  the 
Venetians. 

For  it  may  please  your  majesty  to  know,  that  this  is  the 
man  whom  Padre  Paulo  took,  I  may  say,  into  his  very  soul,  with 
whom  he  did  communicate  the  inwardest  thoughts  of  his  heart, 
from  whom  he  professed  to  have  received  more  knowledge  in  all 
divinity,  both  scholastical  and  positive,  than  from  any  that  he  had 
ever  practised  in  his  days ;  of  which  all  the  passages  were  well 
known  to  the  king  your  father,  of  most  blessed  memory.  And 
so  with  your  majesty's  good  favour,  I  will  end  this  needless  office : 
for  the  general  fame  of  his  learning,  his  life,  and  Christian  tem- 
per, and  those  religious  labours  which  himself  hath  dedicated  to 
your  majesty,  do  better  describe  him  than  I  am  able. 

"  Your  majesty's 
"  Most  humble  and  faithful  servant, 

"  H.  WOTTON." 

To  this  letter  I  shall  add  this ;  that  he  was  (to  the  great  joy  of 
sir  Henry  Wotton)  made  governor  of  the  said  college ;  and  that 
g  after  a  fair  discharge  of  his  duty  and  trust  there,  he  was  thence 

s  August,  1627. 


106  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

removed  to  be  bishop  of  Kilmore  h.  In  both  which  places  his  life 
was  so  holy  as  seemed  to  equal  the  primitive  Christians  ;  for  as 
they,  so  he  kept  all  the  ember-weeks,  observed  (beside  his  private 
devotions)  the  canonical  hours  of  prayer  very  strictly,  and  so  he 
did  all  the  feasts  and  fast-days  of  his  mother,  the  church  of  Eng- 
land ;  to  which  I  may  add,  that  his  patience  and  charity  were 
both  such  as  shewed  his  affections  were  set  upon  things  that  are 
above ;  for  indeed  his  whole  life  brought  forth  the  fruits  of  the 
spirit,  there  being  in  him  such  a  remarkable  meekness,  that  as 
St.  Paul  advised  his  Timothy  in  the  election  of  a  bishop  (1  Tim. 
iii.  7.)  That  he  have  a  good  report  of  those  that  be  without ;  so  had 
he ;  for  those  that  were  without,  even  those  that  in  point  of  reli- 
gion were  of  the  Romish  persuasion,  (of  which  there  were  very 
many  in  his  diocese)  did  yet  (such  is  the  power  of  visible  piety) 
ever  look  upon  him  with  respect  and  reverence ;  and  testified  it 
by  concealing  and  safe  protecting  him  from  death  in  the  late  hor- 
rid rebellion  in  Ireland,  when  the  fury  of  the  wild  Irish  knew  no 
distinction  of  persons ;  and  yet  there  and  then  he  was  protected 
and  cherished  by  those  of  a  contrary  persuasion ;  and  there  and 
then  he  died,  not  by  violence  or  misusage,  but  by  grief,  in  a  quiet 
prison  (1629).  And  with  him  was  lost  many  of  his  learned  wri- 
tings, which  were  thought  worthy  of  preservation ;  and  amongst 
the  rest  was  lost  the  Bible,  which  by  many  years  labour,  and  con- 
ference, and  study,  he  had  translated  into  the  Irish  tongue,  with 
an  intent  to  have  printed  it  for  public  use. 

More  might  be  said 2  of  Mr.  Bedel,  who  (I  told  the  reader) 
was  sir  Henry  Wotton's  first  chaplain ;  and  much  of  his  second 
chaplain,  Isaac  Bargrave 3,  doctor  in  divinity,  and  the  late  learned 
and  hospitable  dean  of  Canterbury ;  as  also  of  the  merit  of  many 
others,  that  had  the  happiness  to  attend  sir  Henry  in  his  foreign 
employments :  but  the  reader  may  think  that  in  this  digression  I 
have  already  carried  him  too  far  from  Eton  college,  and  tln-iv- 
fore  I  shall  lead  him  back  as  gently  and  as  orderly  as  I  may  to  that 
place,  for  a  further  conference  concerning  sir  Henry  Wotton. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  had  proposed  to  himself,  before  he  entered 
into  his  collegiate  life,  to  write  the  Life  of  Martin  Luther;  and 

*  Sept.  3,  1629. 

2  More  might  be  said.']  See  Life  of  William  Bedel,  D.D.  bishop  of  Kilmore, 
in  Ireland,  AD.  1685,  written  by  bishop  Burnet. 

»  Isaac  BargraveJ]  Of  whom  there  is  a  life  in  Todd's  Account  of  the  Deans 
of  Canterbury. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  107 

in  it,  the  History  of  the  Reformation,  as  it  was  carried  on  in 
Germany :  for  the  doing  of  which  he  had  many  advantages  by 
his  several  embassies  into  those  parts,  and  his  interest  in  the 
several  princes  of  the  empire,  by  whose  means  he  had  access  to 
the  records  of  all  the  Hans  Towns,  and  the  knowledge  of  many 
secret  passages  that  fell  not  under  common  view ;  and  in  these 
he  had  made  a  happy  progress,  as  was  well  known  to  his  worthy 
friend  doctor  Duppa,  the  late  reverend  bishop  of  Salisbury ;  but 
in  the  midst  of  this  design,  his  late  majesty  king  Charles  the  first, 
that  knew  the  value  of  sir  Henry  Wotton's  pen,  did  by  a  persua- 
sive loving  violence  (to  which  may  be  added  a  promise  of  5001.  a 
year)  force  him  to  lay  Luther  aside,  and  betake  himself  to  write 
the  History  of  England,  in  which  he  proceeded  to  write  some 
short  characters  of  a  few  kings,  as  a  foundation  upon  which  he 
meant  to  build ;  but,  for  the  present,  meant  to  be  more  large  in 
the  story  of  Henry  the  sixth,  the  founder  of  that  college  in  which 
he  then  enjoyed  all  the  worldly  happiness  of  his  present  being ; 
but  sir  Henry  died  in  the  midst  of  this  undertaking,  and  the 
footsteps  of  his  labours  are  not  recoverable  by  a  more  than  com- 
mon diligence. 

This  is  some  account  both  of  his  inclination,  and  the  employ- 
ment of  his  time  in  the  college,  where  he  seemed  to  have  his 
youth  renewed  by  a  continual  conversation  with  that  learned 
society,  and  a  daily  recourse  of  other  friends  of  choicest  breeding 
and  parts ;  by  which  that  great  blessing  of  a  cheerful  heart  was 
still  maintained,  he  being  always  free,  even  to  the  last  of  his  days, 
from  that  peevishness  which  usually  attends  age. 

And  yet  his  mirth  was  sometimes  damped  by  the  remembrance 
of  divers  old  debts,  partly  contracted  in  his  foreign  employments, 
for  which  his  just  arrears  due  from  the  king  would  have  made 
satisfaction;  but  being  still  delayed  with  court  promises,  and 
finding  some  decays  of  health,  he  did  about  two  years  before  his 
death,  out  of  a  Christian  desire  that  none  should  be  a  loser  by 
him,  make  his  last  will ;  concerning  which  a  doubt  still  remains, 
namely,  whether  it  discovered  more  holy  wit  or  conscionable 
policy  ?  But  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  his  chief  design  was  a 
Christian  endeavour  that  his  debts  might  be  satisfied. 

And  that  it  may  remain  as  such  a  testimony  and  a  legacy  to 
those  that  loved  him,  I  shall  here  impart  it  to  the  reader,  as  it 
was  found  writ  with  his  own  hand. 

"  In   the   name  of  God  almighty  and  all-merciful,  I  Henry 


108  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

Wotton,  provost  of  his  majesty's  college  by  Eton,  being  mindful 
of  mine  own  mortality,  which  the  sin  of  our  first  parents  did 
bring  upon  all  flesh,  do,  by  this  last  will  and  testament  thus  dis- 
pose of  myself  and  the  poor  things  I  shall  leave  in  this  world. 
My  soul  I  bequeath  to  the  immortal  God  my  maker,  father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  blessed  redeemer  and  mediator,  through 
his  all-sole  sufficient  satisfaction  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world, 
and  efficient  for  his  elect,  in  the  number  of  whom  I  am  one  by 
his  mere  grace,  and  thereof  most  unremoveably  assured  by  his 
holy  Spirit,  the  true  eternal  comforter.  My  body  I  bequeath  to 
the  earth,  if  I  shall  end  my  transitory  days  at  or  near  Eton,  to 
be  buried  in  the  chapel  of  the  said  college,  as  the  fellows  shall 
dispose  thereof,  with  whom  I  have  lived  (my  God  knows)  in  all 
loving  affection ;  or  if  I  shall  die  near  Bocton  Malherb,  in  the 
county  of  Kent,  then  I  wish  to  be  laid  in  that  parish  church,  as 
near  as  may  be  to  the  sepulchre  of  my  good  father,  expecting  a 
joyful  resurrection  with  him  in  the  day  of  Christ."" 

After  this  account  of  his  faith,  and  this  surrender  of  his  soul 
to  that  God  that  inspired  it,  and  this  direction  for  the  disposal  of 
his  body,  he  proceeded  to  appoint  that  his  executors  should  lay 
over  his  grave  a  marble  stone,  plain,  and  not  costly :  and  consi- 
dering that  time  moulders  even  marble  to  dust,  (for  monuments i 
themselves  must  die)  therefore  did  he  (waving  the  common  way) 
think  fit  rather  to  preserve  his  name  (to  which  the  son  of  Sirac 
adviseth  all  men)  by  a  useful  apophthegm,  than  by  a  large  enume- 
ration of  his  descent  or  merits  (of  both  which  he  might  justly 
have  boasted)  but  he  was  content  to  forget  them,  and  did  choose 
only  this  prudent,  pious  sentence,  to  discover  his  disposition  and 
preserve  his  memory. 

It  was  directed  by  him  to  be  thus  inscribed  : 

Hie  jacet  hujus  sententiae  primus  author, 

D1SPUTANDI    PRURITUS4,    ECCLE8IARUM    SCABIES. 

Nomen  alias  quaere. 
Which  may  be  Englished  thus  : 

Here  lies  the  first  author  of  this  sentence, 

THE    ITCH    OF    DISPUTATION    WILL    PROVE    THE    SCAB    OF   THB    CHLRCH. 

Inquire  his  name  elsewhere. 

1  "  Quandoquidem  data  sunt  ipsis  quoque  fata  sepulchris." — Juv.  x.  145. 
4  Disputandi  pruritus.]  In  a  Panegyric  addressed  to  king  Charles  I.  on  his 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  109 

And  if  any  shall  object,  as  I  think  some  have,  that  sir 
Henry  Wotton  was  not  the  first  author  of  this  sentence ;  but 
that  this,  or  a  sentence  like  it,  was  long  before  his  time ;  to  him 
I  answer,  that  Solomon  says,  Nothing  can  be  spoken,  that  hath  not 
been  spofcen ;  for  there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun.  But  grant, 
that  in  his  various  reading,  he  had  met  with  this,  or  a  like  sen- 
tence ;  yet  reason  mixt  with  charity  should  persuade  all  readers 
to  believe,  that  sir  Henry  Wotton's  mind  was  then  so  fixed  on 
that  part  of  the  communion  of  saints  which  is  above,  that  an  holy 
lethargy  did  surprise  his  memory.  For  doubtless,  if  he  had  not 
believed  himself  to  be  the  first  author  of  what  he  said,  he  was  too 
prudent  first  to  own,  and  then  expose  it  to  the  public  view,  and 
censure  of  every  critic.  And  questionless,  it  will  be  charity  in  all 
readers,  to  think  his  mind  was  then  so  fixed  on  heaven,  that  a 
holy  zeal  did  transport  him  :  and  that  in  this  sacred  ecstasy,  his 
thoughts  were  then  only  of  the  church  triumphant  (into  which  he 
daily  expected  his  admission).  And  that  almighty  God  was  then 
pleased  to  make  him  a  prophet,  to  tell  the  church  militant,  and 
particularly  that  part  of  it  in  this  nation,  where  the  weeds  of  con- 
troversy grow  to  be  daily  both  more  numerous,  and  more  de- 
structive to  humble  piety  :  and  where  men  have  consciences  that 
boggle  at  ceremonies,  and  yet  scruple  not  to  speak  and  act  such 
sins  as  the  ancient  humble  Christians  believed  to  be  a  sin  to  think  : 
and  where,  as  our  reverend  Hooker  says,  "  Former  simplicity,  and 
softness  of  spirit,  is  not  now  to  be  found,  because,  zeal  hath 
drowned  charity,  and  skill  meekness :"  it  will  be  good  to  think 
that  these  sad  changes  have  proved  this  epitaph  to  be  a  useful 
caution  unto  us  of  this  nation ;  and  the  sad  effects  thereof  in 
Germany  have  proved  it  to  be  a  mournful  truth. 

return  from  Scotland,  A.D.  1633,  written  in  Latin,  and  translated  by  a  friend, 
sir  Henry  thus  expresses  himself: 

"  There  were  hatched  abroad  some  years  ago,  or  perhaps  raked  up  out  of 
antiquity,  certain  controversies  about  high  points  of  the  Creed,  which  having 
likewise  flown  over  to  us,  (as  flames  of  wit  are  easily  diffused)  least  hereabout 
also  both  pulpits  and  pews  might  run  to  heat  and  public  disturbance,  your 
majesty,  with  most  laudable  temper,  by  proclamation  suppressed  on  both 
sides  all  manner  of  debates.  Others  may  think  what  pleaseth  them  ;  in  my 
opinion  (if  I  may  have  pardon  for  the  phrase)  The  itch  of  disputing  will  prove 
the  scab  of  churches.  I  shall  relate  what  I  have  chanced  more  than  once  to 
observe  :  two,  namely,  arguing  about  some  subject  so  eagerly  till  either  of 
them,  transported  by  heat  of  contention,  from  one  thing  to  another,  they  both 
at  length  had  lost  first  their  charity,  and  then  also  the  truth."  Remains, 
p.  H7. 


110  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

This  by  way  of  observation  concerning  his  epitaph  :  the  rest  of 
his  will  follows  in  his  own  words. 

"  Further,  I  the  said  Henry  Wotton,  do  constitute  and  ordain 
to  be  joint  executors  of  this  my  last  will  and  testament,  my  two 
grand-nephews,  Albert  Morton  second  son  to  sir  Robert  Morton 
knight,  late  deceased,  and  Thomas  Bargrave,  eldest  son  to  Dr. 
Bargrave,  dean  of  Canterbury,  husband  to  my  right  virtuous  and 
only  niece  '.  And  I  do  pray  the  aforesaid  Dr.  Bargrave,  and  Mr. 
Nicholas  Pey,  my  most  faithful  and  chosen  friends,  together  witli 
Mr.  John  Harrison  one  of  the  fellows  of  Eton  college,  best 
acquainted  with  my  books  and  pictures,  and  other  utensils,  to  be 
supervisors  of  this  my  last  will  and  testament.  And  I  do  pray 
the  foresaid  Dr.  Bargrave  and  Mr.  Nicholas  Pey,  to  be  solicitors 
for  such  arrearages  as  shall  appear  due  unto  me  from  his  majesty's 
exchequer  at  the  time  of  my  death ;  and  to  assist  my  fore-named 
executors  in  some  reasonable  snd  conscientious  satisfaction  of  my 
creditors,  and  discharge  of  my  legacies  now  specified ;  or,  that 
shall  be  hereafter  added  unto  this  my  testament,  by  any  codicil 
or  schedule,  or  left  in  the  hands,  or  in  any  memorial  with  the 
aforesaid  Mr.  John  Harrison. — And  first,  to  my  most  dear  sove- 
reign and  master  of  incomparable  goodness  (in  whose  gracious 
opinion  I  have  ever  had  some  portion,  as  far  as  the  interest  of  a 
plain  and  honest  man)  I  leave  four  pictures  at  large  of  those  dukes 
of  Venice  *,  in  whose  time  I  was  there  employed,  with  their  names 
on  the  back-side,  which  hang  in  my  great  ordinary  dining-room, 
done  after  the  life  by  Edoardo  Fialetto.  Likewise  a  table 7  of  the 
Venetian  college,  where  ambassadors  had  their  audience,  hanuin^ 
over  the  mantle  of  the  chimney  in  the  said  room,  done  by  the 
same  hand,  which  containeth  a  draught  in  little,  well  resembling 
the  famous  duke  Leonardo  Donato,  in  a  time  which  needed  a 
wise  and  constant  man.  Item,  the  picture  of  a  duke  of  Venice 8 
hanging  over  against  the  door,  done  either  by  Titiano,  or  some 
principal  hand  long  before  my  time.  Most  humbly  beseeching 

5  Niece.']  Elizabeth  Dering,  daughter  of  John  Dering  of  Surrenden,  hy 
Elizabeth  Wotton,  sir  Henry's  only  sister. 

r>  Dukes  of  Venice.']  The  four  doges  of  whom  Wotton  speaks  were  Marino 
(irimani,  1595-1605;  Lionardo  Donato,  1605-1612;  Antonio  Memmo,  1612- 
1615;  Giovanni  Bembo,  1615-1618.  The  portraits  are  now  in  the  king's 
dressing-room  at  Hampton  Court  palace. 

7  A  table.']  This  picture,  on  panel,  is  now  in  the  second  presence  chamber 
at  Hampton  Court  palace. 

8  Duke  of  Venire.]  The  fate  of  this  picture  is  uncertain. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  Ill 

his  majesty  that  the  said  pieces  may  remain  in  some  corner  of 
any  of  his  houses,  for  a  poor  memorial  of  his  most  humble 
vassal. 

"  Item,  I  leave  his  said  majesty  all  the  papers  and  negociations 
of  sir  Nicholas  Throgmorton  knight,  during  his  famous  employ- 
ment under  queen  Elizabeth,  in  Scotland  and  in  France,  which 
contain  divers  secrets  of  state,  that  perchance  his  majesty  will 
think  fit  to  be  preserved  in  his  paper-office,  after  they  have  been 
perused  and  sorted  by  Mr.  Secretary  Windebanck,  with  whom  I 
have  heretofore,  as  I  remember,  conferred  about  them.  They 
were  committed  to  my  disposal  by  sir  Arthur  Throgmorton 9  his 
son,  to  whose  worthy  memory  I  cannot  better  discharge  my  faith, 
than  by  assigning  them  to  the  highest  place  of  trust.  Item,  I 
leave  to  our  most  gracious  and  virtuous  queen  Mary  *,  Dioscorides, 
with  the  plants  naturally  coloured,  and  the  text  translated  by 
Matthiolo 2,  in  the  best  language  of  Tuscany,  whence  her  majesty 
is  lineally  descended 3,  for  a  poor  token  of  my  thankful  devotion, 
for  the  honour  she  was  once  pleased  to  do  my  private  study  with 
her  presence.  I  leave  to  the  most  hopeful  prince,  the  picture  of 
the  elected  and  crowned  queen  of  Bohemia,  his  aunt,  of  clear  and 
resplendent  virtues  through  the  clouds  of  her  fortune.  To  my 
lord's  grace  of  Canterbury 4  now  being,  I  leave  my  picture  of  Divine 
Love,  rarely  copied  from  one  in  the  king^s  galleries,  of  my  pre- 
sentation to  his  majesty ;  beseeching  him  to  receive  it  as  a  pledge 
of  my  humble  reverence  to  his  great  wisdom.  And  to  the  most 
worthy  lord  bishop  of  London 5,  lord  high  treasurer  of  England, 
in  true  admiration  of  his  Christian  simplicity,  and  contempt  of 
earthly  pomp,  I  leave  a  picture  of  Heraclitus  bewailing,  and  De- 
mocritus  laughing  at  the  world  :  most  humbly  beseeching  the  said 
lord  archbishop  his  grace,  and  the  lord  bishop  of  London,  of  both 

9  Sir  Arthur  Throgmorton.']  Whose  eldest  daughter  and  coheir,  Mary,  was 
married  to  sir  Henry  Wotton's  nephew,  Thomas,  second  and  last  lord  Wotton. 

1  Queen  Mary.']  Henrietta  Maria. 

2  Matthiolo.']  Pietro  Matthiolo  of  Sienna,  physician  to  the  emperor  and  to 
the  archduke  Ferdinand,  who  wrote  Discorsi  nelli  sei  libri  di  Pedacio  Dios- 
coride  Anarzarbeo  delta  Materia  Medicinale.      Editions  with  very  beautiful 
wood  engravings  were  printed  at  Venice  in  folio,  in  1568,  1585,  1604.     It  was 
no  doubt  a  copy  of  one  of  these  that  Wotton  bequeathed,  but  it  is  not  in 
the  Royal  library  in  the  British  Museum. 

3  Descended^]  She  being  daughter  of  Marie  de'  Medici. 

4  My  lord's  grace  of  Canterbury .]  William  Laud. 

5  Bishop  of  London.]  William  Juxon,  afterwards  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 


112  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

whose  favours  I  have  tasted  in  my  lifetime,  to  intercede  with  our 
most  gracious  sovereign  after  my  death,  in  the  bowels  of  Jesus 
Christ,  that  out  of  compassionate  memory  of  my  long  services 
(wherein  I  more  studied  the  public  honour  than  mine  own  utility) 
some  order  may  be  taken  out  of  my  arrears  due  in  the  exchequer, 
for  such  satisfaction  of  my  creditors,  as  those  whom  I  have 
ordained  supervisors  of  this  my  last  will  and  testament  shall  pre- 
sent unto  their  lordships,  without  their  farther  trouble :  hoping 
likewise  in  his  majesty's  most  indubitable  goodness,  that  he  will 
keep  me  from  all  prejudice,  which  I  may  otherwise  suffer  by  any 

defect  of  formality  in  the  demand  of  my  said  arrears.     To 

for  a  poor  addition  to  his  cabinet,  I  leave  as  emblems  of  his 
attractive  virtues,  and  nobleness,  my  great  loadstone ;  and  a 
piece  of  amber  of  both  kinds  naturally  united,  and  only  differing 
in  degree  of  concoction,  which  is  thought  somewhat  rare.  Item, 
a  piece  of  christal  sexangular  (as  they  grow  all)  grasping  divers 
several  things  within  it,  which  I  bought  among  the  Rhsetian 
Alps,  in  the  very  place  where  it  grew:  recommending  most 
humbly  unto  his  lordship,  the  reputation  of  my  poor  name  in 
the  point  of  my  debts,  as  I  have  done  to  the  forenamed  spiritual 
lords ;  and  am  heartily  sorry,  that  I  have  no  better  token  of  my 
humble  thankfulness  to  his  honoured  person.  Item,  I  leave  to 
sir  Francis  Windebanck,  one  of  his  majesties  principal  secretaries 
of  state  (whom  I  found  my  great  friend  in  point  of  necessity)  the 
Four  Seasons  of  old  Bassano,  to  hang  near  the  eye  in  his  parlour 
(being  in  little  form)  which  I  bought  at  Venice,  where  I  first 
entered  into  his  most  worthy  acquaintance. 

"  To  the  above-named  Dr.  Bargrave e  dean  of  Canterbury.  I 
leave  all  my  Italian  books  not  disposed  in  this  will.  I  leave  to 
him  likewise  my  viol  de  gamba,  which  hath  been  twice  with  me  in 
Italy,  in  which  country  I  first  contracted  with  him  an  unremove- 
able  affection.  To  my  other  supervisor,  Mr.  Nicholas  Pey,  I 
leave  my  chest,  or  cabinet  of  instruments  and  engines  of  all  kinds 
of  uses :  ink  the  lower  box  whereof  are  some  fit  to  be  bequeathed 
to  none  but  so  entire  an  honest  man  as  he  is.  I  leave  him  likc- 

'  Dr.  BargraveJ]  A  picture  of  sir  Henry  Wotton,  and  some  other  por- 
traits, believed  to  have  been  in  his  collection,  are  now  in  the  possession  of 
Thomas  Bridger,  Esq.,  of  Eastry  Court,  whose  lady  is  a  lineal  descendant  of 
Dr.  Bargrave. 

k  In  it  were  Italian  locks,  picklocks,  screws  to  force  open  doors,  and  many 
things  of  worth  and  rarity  that  he  had  gathered  in  his  foreign  travel. 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  113 

wise  forty  pound  for  his  pains  in  the  solicitation  of  my  arrears, 
and  am  sorry  that  my  ragged  estate  can  reach  no  further  to  one 
that  hath  taken  such  care  for  me  in  the  same  kind,  during  all 
my  foreign  employments.  To  the  library  at  Eton  college  I  leave 
all  my  manuscripts  not  before  disposed ;  and  to  each  of  the  fellows 
a  plain  ring  of  gold,  enamelled  black,  all  save  the  verge,  with  this 
motto  within,  Amor  unit  omnia. 

"  This  is  my  last  will  and  testament,  save  what  shall  be  added 
by  a  schedule  thereunto  annexed.  Written  on  the  first  of 
October,  in  the  present  year  of  our  redemption  1637.  And  sub- 
scribed by  myself,  with  the  testimony  of  these  witnesses. 

"  HENRY  WOTTON." 
"  Nich.  Oudert. 
Geo.  Lash." 

And  now,  because  the  mind  of  man  is  best  satisfied  by  the 
knowledge  of  events,  I  think  fit  to  declare,  that  every  one  that 
was  named  in  his  will,  did  gladly  receive  their  legacies ;  by  which, 
and  his  most  just  and  passionate  desires  for  the  payment  of  his 
debts,  they  joined  in  assisting  the  overseers  of  his  will ;  and  by 
their  joint  endeavours  to  the  king  (than  whom  none  was  more 
willing)  conscionable  satisfaction  was  given  for  his  just  debts. 

The  next  thing  wherewith  I  shall  acquaint  the  reader  is,  that 
he  went  usually  once  a  year,  if  not  oftener,  to  the  beloved  Bocton- 
hall,  where  he  would  say,  he  found  a  cure  for  all  cares,  by  the 
chearful  company,  which  he  called  the  living  furniture  of  that 
place :  and,  a  restoration  of  his  strength,  by  the  connaturalness 
of  that  which  he  called  his  genial  air. 

He  yearly  went  also  to  Oxford.  But  the  summer  before  his 
death  he  changed  that  for  a  journey  to  Winchester-college ;  to 
which  school  he  was  first  removed  from  Bocton.  And  as  he 
returned  from  Winchester,  towards  Eton-college,  he  said  to  a 
friend,  his  companion  in  that  journey;  " How  useful  was  that 
advice  of  a  holy  monk,  who  persuaded  his  friend  to  perform  his 
customary  devotions  in  a  constant  place 7}  because  in  that  place, 
we  usually  meet  with  those  very  thoughts  which  possessed  us  at 
our  last  being  there  ;  and  I  find  it  thus  far  experimentally  true ; 
that  my  now  being  in  that  school,  and  seeing  that  very  place 

7  A  constant  place. ,]  See  South's  Sermons,  vol.  i.  "God's  peculiar  regard 
for  places  set  apart  for  Divine  worship ;"  or  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iii.  p.  432. 
Also  Law's  Serious  Call,  &c.  chap.  14. 

VOL.  IV.  I 


114  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

where  I  sate  when  I  was  a  boy,  occasioned  me  to  remember 
those  very  thoughts  of  my  youth  which  then  possessed  me; 
sweet  thoughts  indeed,  that  promised  my  growing  years  numerous 
pleasures,  without  mixtures  of  cares ;  and  those  to  be  enjoyed, 
when  time  (which  I  therefore  thought  slow  paced)  had  changed 
my  youth  into  manhood :  but  age  and  experience  have  taught 
me,  that  those  were  but  empty  hopes :  for  I  have  always  found 
it  true,  as  my  Saviour  did  foretell,  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof.  Nevertheless,  I  saw  there  a  succession  of  boys  using  the 
same  recreations,  and  questionless  possessed  with  the  same 
thoughts  that  then  possessed  me.  Thus  one  generation  succeeds 
another,  both  in  their  lives,  recreations,  hopes,  fears,  and  death." 
After  his  return  from  Winchester  to  Eton  (which  was  about 
five  months  before  his  death)  he  became  much  more  retired,  and 
contemplative ;  in  which  time  he  was  often  visited  by  Mr.  John 
Hales,  (learned  Mr.  John  Hales)  then  a  fellow  of  that  college ; 

to  whom  upon  an  occasion  he  spake  to  this  purpose "  I  have 

in  my  passage  to  my  grave  met  with  most  of  those  joys  of  which  a 
discursive  soul  is  capable  ;  and  been  entertained  with  more  inferior 
pleasures  than  the  sons  of  men  are  usually  made  partakers  of: 
nevertheless,  in  this  voyage  I  have  not  always  floated  on  the  calm 
sea  of  content ;  but,  have  oft  met  with  cross  winds  and  storms, 
and  with  many  troubles  of  mind  and  temptations  to  evil.  And, 
yet  though  I  have  been  and  am  a  man  compassed  about  with  hu- 
man frailties,  almighty  God  hath  by  his  grace  prevented  me  from 
making  shipwreck  of  faith  and  a  good  conscience ;  the  thought  of 
which  is  now  the  joy  of  my  heart,  and  I  most  humbly  praise  him 
for  it :  and  I  humbly  acknowledge  that  it  was  not  myself  but  he 
that  hath  kept  me  to  this  great  age  ;  and  let  him  take  the  glory 
of  his  great  mercy. — And  my  dear  friend,  I  now  see  that  I  draw 
near  my  harbour  of  death :  that  harbour,  that  will  secure  me 
from  all  the  future  storms  and  waves  of  this  world  ;  and  I  praise 
God  I  am  willing  to  leave  it,  and  expect  a  better ;  that  world, 

wherein  dwelleth  righteousness,  and  I  long  for  it." These  and 

the  like  expressions  were  then  uttered  by  him  at  the  beginning  of 
a  feverish  distemper,  at  which  time  he  was  also  troubled  with  an 
asthma,  or  short  spitting ;  but  after  less  than  twenty  fits,  by  the 
help  of  familiar  physic  and  a  spare  diet,  this  fever  abated ;  yet  so 
as  to  leave  him  much  weaker  than  it  found  him  :  and  his  asthma 
seemed  also  to  be  overcome  in  a  good  degree  by  his  forbearing 
tobacco,  which  as  many  thoughtful  men  do.  In-  had  also  taken 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON.  115 

somewhat  immoderately. — This  was  his  then  present  condition, 
and  thus  he  continued  till  about  the  end  of  October  1639,  which 
was  about  a  month  before  his  death,  at  which  time  he  again 
fell  into  a  fever,  which  though  he  seemed  to  recover,  yet  these 
still  left  him  so  weak,  that  they  and  those  other  common  infirmi- 
ties that  accompany  age,  and  were  wont  to  visit  him  like  civil 
friends,  and  after  some  short  time  to  leave  him,  came  now,  both 
oftener  and  with  more  violence,  and  at  last  took  up  their  constant 
habitation  with  him,  still  weakening  his  body  and  abating  his 
chearfulness :  of  both  which  he  grew  more  sensible,  and  did  the 
oftener  retire  into  his  study,  and  there  made  many  papers  that 
had  passed  his  pen  both  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  and  in  the  busy 

part  of  his  life,  useless  by  a  fire  made  there  to  that  purpose. • 

These  and  several  unusual  expressions  to  his  servants  and  friends, 
seemed  to  foretell  that  the  day  of  his  death  drew  near ;  for  which 
he  seemed  to  those  many  friends  that  observed  him,  to  be  well 
prepared,  and  to  be  both  patient,  and  free  from  all  fear ;  as  seve- 
ral of  his  letters  writ  on  this  his  last  sick-bed  may  testify :  and 
thus  he  continued  till  about  the  beginning  of  December  following, 
at  which  time  he  was  seized  more  violently  with  a  quotidian  fever, 
in  the  tenth  fit  of  which  fever,  his  better  part,  that  part  of  sir 
Henry  Wotton  which  could  not  die,  put  off  mortality,  with  as 
much  content  and  chearfulness  as  human  frailty  is  capable  of; 
being  then  in  great  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  in  perfect  peace  with 
God  and  man. 

And  thus  the  circle  of  sir  Henry  Wotton's  life  (that  circle 
which  began  at  Bocton,  and  in  the  circumference  thereof,  did  first 
touch  at  Winchester-school,  then  at  Oxford,  and  after  upon  so 
many  remarkable  parts  and  passages  in  Christendom,)  that  circle 
of  his  life,  was  by  death  thus  closed  up  and  compleated,  in  the 
seventy  and  second  year  of  his  age,  at  Eton  college ;  where  ac- 
cording to  his  will,  he  now  lies  buried,  with  his  motto  on  a  plain 
grave-stone  over  him;  dying  worthy  of  his  name  and  family, 
worthy  of  the  love  and  favour  of  so  many  princes,  and  persons  of 
eminent  wisdom  and  learning,  worthy  of  the  trust  committed  unto 
him,  for  the  service  of  his  prince  and  country. 

All  readers  are  requested  to  believe,  that  he  was  worthy  of  a 
more  worthy  pen,  to  have  preserved  his  memory,  and  com- 
mended his  merits  to  the  imitation  of  posterity. 

Iz.  WA. 
i  2 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 


His  state 

Is  kingly.    Thousands  at  His  bidding  speed 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest ; — 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

MILTON. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


THE  following  Life  is  published,  but  not  without  some  omissions, 
from  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  by  P.  PecJcard, 
D.D.  Master  of  Magdalen  College,  Cambridge.  Cambridge,  printed 
by  J.  Archdeacon,  1790.  The  present  edition,  it  is  presumed,  is 
greatly  increased  in  value,  by  a  large  accession  of  very  interesting 
papers,  transcribed  from  the  Lambeth  library,  by  permission  of 
his  grace  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  notices  which  are 
included  in  brackets  are  borrowed  from  Dr.  Peckard. 


PREFACE. 


THE  editor  of  the  following  Memoirs  has  been  long  and  frequently 
solicited  to  publish  the  life  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  of  which  it 
was  known  that  he  once  had  a  manuscript  account  in  his  posses- 
sion. It  now  seems  necessary  to  give  a  short  history  of  this  MS. 
and  the  reason  why  he  has  hitherto  delayed  his  compliance  with 
the  solicitations  that  have  been  made  to  him. 

He  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  Edward  Ferrar,  late  of 
Huntingdon,  who  by  his  will  left  to  him  his  books  and  papers. 
Among  the  latter  was  a  manuscript  life  of  Nicholas  Ferrar, 
entitled,  "  The  complete  Church  of  England  Man,  &c."  written 
out  fair  and  prepared  for  the  press,  from  authentic  memoirs  in 
the  family,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Francis  Peck  :  a  gentleman  well 
known  to  the  literary  world  by  his  publications  relative  to  various 
articles  of  antiquity. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Ed.  Ferrar,  which  happened  in 
1769,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  of  Sheephall,  in  the  county  of  Hert- 
ford, then  on  a  visit  to  the  editor  at  Huntingdon,  requested  the 
perusal  of  this  manuscript,  which  was  granted :  and  the  editor 
soon]  after  went  for  some  time  with  his  family  to  Bath.  On  his 
return  to  Huntingdon,  he  was  informed  of  the  sudden  death  of 
Mr.  Jones,  occasioned  by  a  fall  from  his  horse. 

Having  made  all  possible  enquiry  after  this  MS.  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Sheephall  without  effect,  the  editor  called  upon  a 
brother  of  Mr.  Jones,  who  then  lived  near  St.  Clement's  church 
in  the  Strand,  who  undertook  to  recover  and  restore  it.  But  he 
also  was  prevented  doing  any  thing  by  his  sudden  death,  which 
happened  in  a  few  days  after  this  application. 

Since  that  time  the  editor  has  made  all  the  enquiry  both  public 
and  private  that  was  in  his  power,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 


122 


PREFACE. 


Having  now,  after  near  twenty  years'  fruitless  enquiry,  given 
up  all  hopes  of  recovering  his  property,  the  editor  nevertheless 
determines,  as  far  as  it  is  in  his  power,  to  gratify  the  solicitations 
of  his  friends  with  respect  to  the  life  of  Mr.  Nich.  Ferrar.  And 
having  found  the  original1  MS.  from  which  Mr.  Peck  composed 
his  work,  entitled,  "  The  complete  Church  of  England  Man  exem- 
plified in  the  holy  life  of  Mr.  N.  Ferrar ;"  as  also  some  loose  and 
unconnected  papers  of  Mr.  Peck's  rough  draught,  he  here  humbly 
offers  to  the  public  the  result  of  his  investigation.  And  although 
he  has  thought  it  necessary  sometimes  to  change  an  obsolete 
phrase  for  one  more  modern,  or  to  leave  out  some  passages  that 
might  now  appear  of  no  weight,  or  to  add  now  and  then  a  few 
sentences  for  the  sake  of  connection,  yet  in  every  thing  of  moment 
the  present  production  is  faithful  to  the  original. 

1  The  original.']  This  MS.,  as  will  be  seen  below,  in  the  body  of  this  life, 
was  compiled  by  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  the  elder  brother  of  Nicholas,  about  the 
year  1654. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 


MR.  NICHOLAS  FERRAR,  though  not  of  exalted  rank  himself, 
was  of  a  family  highly  respectable  for  that  real  merit  which  sur- 
passes antiquity  of  descent  or  nobility  of  title,  a  family  illustrious 
for  virtue. 

Gualkeline,  or  Walkeline  de  Ferrariis,  a  Norman  of  distinction, 
came  into  England  with  William  the  Conqueror.  To  Henry  de 
Ferrariis,  the  second  of  this  family,  William  gave  Tutbury  and 
other  castles  ;  and  more  than  a  hundred  and  eighty  lordships. 
In  process  of  time  the  family  became  very  numerous ;  founded 
several  religious  houses ;  had  the  honour  of  peerage ;  and  different 
branches  of  it  were  settled  in  many  different  counties. 

One  line  was  long  since  established  in  Yorkshire,  from  which 
was  descended  Nicholas,  the  father  of  that  Nicholas  to  whose 
memory  these  imperfect  memoirs  are  dedicated.  He  was  very 
nearly  related  to  that  pious  and  resolute  martyr  Robert  Ferrar, 
bishop  of  St.  David's,  who  sealed  the  truth  of  the  Protestant 
religion  with  his  blood,  and  with  these  remarkable  words  after  his 
condemnation  to  the  stake,  "  If  you  see  me  stir  in  the  fire,  believe 
not  the  doctrine  I  have  taught  V 

Nicholas  Ferrar  the  father  was  brought  up  in  the  profession  of 
a  merchant  adventurer,  and  traded  very  extensively  to  the  East 
and  West  Indies,  and  to  all  the  celebrated  seats  of  commerce. 
He  lived  in  high  repute  in  the  city,  where  he  joined  in  cominer- 

1  /  have  taught.']  [Richard  Jones,  a  knight's  son,  coming  to  bishop  Ferrar 
a  little  before  his  execution,  lamented  the  painfulness  of  the  death  he  had  to 
suffer.  To  whom  the  bishop  answered,  that  if  he  saw  him  stir  in  the  pains 
of  his  burning,  he  should  then  give  no  credit  to  his  doctrine.  And  as  he 
said  so  he  right  well  performed  the  same.  For  so  patiently  he  stood  that  he 
never  moved  :  but  even  as  he  stood  holding  up  his  stumps,  so  still  he  con- 
tinued till  one  Richard  Gravel  with  a  staff  dashed  him  upon  the  head,  and  so 
stroke  him  down.  March  30,  1555.  Fox,  Acts  and  Monuments.'} 


124  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

cial  matters  with  sir  Thomas  and  sir  Hugh  Middleton,  and  Mr. 
Bateman.  He  was  a  man  of  liberal  hospitality,  but  governed  his 
house  with  great  order.  He  kept  a  good  table,  at  which  he 
frequently  received  persons  of  the  greatest  eminence,  sir  John 
Hawkins,  sir  Francis  Drake,  sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  others, 
with  whom  he  was  an  adventurer :  and  in  all  their  expeditions  he 
was  ever  in  the  highest  degree  attentive  to  the  planting  the  Chris- 
tian religion  in  the  new  world.  At  home  also  he  was  a  zealous 
friend  to  the  established  church,  and  always  ready  to  supply  his 
prince  with  what  was  required  of  him.  He  lent  300£.  at  once 
upon  a  privy  seal :  a  sum  at  that  time  not  inconsiderable.  He 
had  the  honour  of  being  written  Esq.  by  Q.  Elizabeth :  and  the 
exemplification  of  his  arms  is  still  in  the  family. 

He  married  Mary  Wodenoth,  daughter  of  Laurence  Wode- 
noth,  esq.  of  the  ancient  family  8  of  that  name,  .of  Savington  hall 
in  Cheshire,  where  her  ancestors  in  lineal  descent  had  enjoyed 
that  lordship  near  five  hundred  years,  and  were  allied  to  the  prin- 
cipal families  of  that  country. 

Mary  Wodenoth  was  surpassed  by  none  in  comeliness  of  body 
or  excellence  of  beauty.  She  was  of  modest  and  sober  deport- 
ment, and  of  great  prudence.  Of  few  words,  yet  when  she  spoke, 
bishop  Lindsel3  was  used  to  say  of  her,  he  knew  no  woman 
superior  to  her  in  eloquence,  true  judgment  or  wisdom,  and  that 
few  were  equal  to  her  in  chanty  towards  man,  or  piety  towards 
God. 

This  worthy  couple  lived  together  many  years  in  harmony  and 
happiness,  perfecting  their  holiness  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  in  the 
conscientious  practice  of  every  duty.  They  saw  descended  from 
them  a  numerous,  and  a  virtuous  family 4,  of  whose  education  they 

3  Ancient  family.']    An  account  of  the  Wodenoths,  with  their  arms  and 
pedigree,  will  be  found  in  Ormerod's  History  of  Cheshire,  iii.  261,  262. 

*  Bishop  Lindsel.']  Augustine  Lindsell,  dean  of  Lichfield,  elected  bishop  of 
Peterborough,  22nd  December,  1632;  translated  to  Hereford  7th  March, 
1634;  died  6th  November,  1634. 

4  A  virtuous  family.']    Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  father,  died  1st  April,  1620, 
leaving  issue,  "  John  Farrar,  eldest  sonne,  of  the  age  of  30  yeares ;  Nicholas, 
second  sonne,  fellow  of  Clare  Hall,  in  Cambridge,  of  the  age  of  27  yeares ; 
Richard,  third  sonne,  merchant  of  London,  of  the  age  of  24  yeares;  Susan, 
only  daughter  lyvyng,  married  to  John  Collett ',  of  Bourne,  in  the  county  of 

1  This  John  Collett  (alias  Collet)  had  issue  by  the  said  Susan  five  sons 
and  seven  daughters ;  the  eldest  of  which  daughters  (by  name  Mary)  was 
unmarried  in  1684.  The  rest  of  them  and  the  two  eldest  sons  married. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  125 

took  uncommon  care.  They  did  not  spoil  their  children  by  abso- 
lutely sparing  the  rod,  but  what  occasional  severity  they  judged 
to  be  necessary  was  so  softened  by  tenderness  and  affection,  as 
to  produce  not  only  the  fear  of  doing  amiss,  but  the  love  of  doing 
well. 

The  little  instances  of  corrective  discipline  exercised  by  these 
affectionate  parents  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
would  perhaps  excite  the  derision  of  the  fastidious  reader  at  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth ;  they  are  therefore  omitted.  Nevertheless 
they  were  well  calculated  to  impress  the  tender  mind  with  a  reve- 
rential awe  for  the  Supreme  Being ;  with  obedience  to  parents, 
and  instructors ;  with  universal  and  disinterested  benevolence ; 
with  modesty,  with  humility,  and  a  proper  sense  of  subordination ; 
with  an  abhorrence  of  all  vice,  but  particularly  of  every  species  of 
falsehood. 

The  children  born  to  these  virtuous  parents  were  all  constantly 
trained  in  virtue  and  religion.  Their  daily  practice  was  to  read, 
and  to  speak  by  memory  some  portion  of  the  Scriptures,  and  parts 
of  the  Book  of  Martyrs :  they  were  also  made  acquainted  with 
such  passages  of  history  as  were  suited  to  their  tender  years. 
They  were  all  instructed  in  music  ;  in  performing  on  the  organ, 
viol,  and  lute,  and  in  the  theory  and  practice  of  singing ;  in  the 
learned  and  modern  languages  ;  in  curious  needle- works,  and  all 
the  accomplishments  of  that  time.  The  young  men,  when  arrived 
at  years  of  discretion,  had  permission  each  to  choose  his  profes- 
sion, and  then  no  expense  was  spared  to  bring  him  to  a  distin- 
guished excellence  in  it.  For  this  was  an  invariable  maxim  with 
the  parents,  that  having  laid  a  firm  foundation  in  religion  and 
virtue,  they  would  rather  give  them  a  good  education  without 
wealth,  than  wealth  without  a  good  education. 

The  parish  church  and  chancel  of  St.  Bennett  Sherehog  in 
London,  Mr.  Ferrar  repaired  and  decently  seated  at  his  own 
expence ;  and  as  there  was  not  any  morning  preacher  there,  he 

Cambridge,  gent.  He  had  also  issue  by  Mary,  his  said  wife,  Erasmus  and 
William,  both  barresters  of  the  common  law,  that  dyed  both  without  issue. 
John  Farrar,  eldest  sonne  of  the  said  Mr.  Nicholas  Farrar,  married  two 
wives :  his  first  wife  was  Anne,  daughter  of  William  Shepard,  of  Great  Rol- 
wright,  in  the  county  of  Oxon,  Esq.,  by  whom  he  had  no  issue.  His  second 
wife  was  Bersabe,  daughter  of  Israel  Owen,  of  London,  gent.,  by  whom  he 
had  issue  Mary,  who  dyed  yonge,  and  Nicholas  of  the  age  of  two  yeares." — 
From  the  Funeral  Certificate  in  Hearne's  Caii  Vindicia,  ii.  683. 


126  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

brought  from  the  country  Mr.  Francis  White,  and  made  hii 
their  first  lecturer.     Mr.  White  was  afterwards  advanced  to  th< 
see  of  Ely 5. 

When  a  stranger  preached,  Mr.  Ferrar  always  invited  him 
dinner,  and  if  it  was  discovered  that  he  was  in  any  necessity,  he 
never  departed  without  a  handsome  present.  In  truth  they  never 
were  without  a  clergyman  as  a  companion  in  their  house,  or  even 
on  their  journeys,  as  they  always  accustomed  themselves  to 
morning  and  evening  prayer. 

Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  third  son  of  this  worthy  couple,  was  born 
the  22d  and  christened  the  23d  of  Feb.  1592,  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Mary  Stayning  in  Mark-lane,  London.  His  godfathers  do 
not  appear.  His  godmother  was  a  Mrs.  Riggs,  wife  to  captain 
Riggs,  who  recommended  herself  highly  to  the  esteem  of  q.  Eliza- 
beth, by  an  heroic  act  which  she  performed  upon  the  sea-shore  at 
Dover  in  1 588,  as  her  story  relates  at  large. 

He  was  a  beautiful  child  of  a  fair  complexion,  and  light- coloured 
hair.  At  four  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  school,  being  of  a 
tractable  disposition  and  lively  parts.  At  five  he  could  read  per- 
fectly, or  repeat  with  propriety  and  grace  a  chapter  in  the  Bible, 
which  the  parents  made  the  daily  exercise  of  their  children.  By 
the  brightness  of  his  parts,  and  the  uncommon  strength  of  his 
memory  he  attained  with  great  ease  and  quickness  whatsoever  he 
set  himself  to  learn ;  yet  was  he  also  remarkably  studious ;  being 
a  rare  instance  of  the  union  of  the  brightest  parts  with  the  most 
intense  industry.  From  the  early  possession  of  his  mind  with 
ideas  of  piety  and  virtue,  and  a  love  for  historical  information, 
the  Bible  in  his  very  early  years  became  to  him  the  book  above 
all  others  most  dear  and  estimable  ;  and  next  to  this  in  his  esteem 
was  Fox's  book  of  Martyrs,  from  which  he  could  repeat  perfectly 
the  history  of  his  near  kinsman  bishop  Ferrar.  And  when  in  his 
riper  years  he  undertook  the  instruction  of  the  family,  he  con- 
stantly exercised  them  also  in  the  reading  and  in  the  study  of 
these  two  books.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  all  historical  rela- 
tions, and  when  engaged  in  this  sort  of  reading,  the  day  did  not 
satisfy  him,  but  he  would  borrow  from  the  night;  insomuch  that 
his  mother  would  frequently  seek  him  out,  and  force  him  to  par- 
take of  some  proper  recreation.  Hence,  even  in  his  childhood, 

*  See  of  Ely]  Francis  White,  dean  of  Carlisle,  was  successively  bishop  of 
Carlisle,  in  1626;  of  Norwich,  in  1629;  of  Ely.  in  1631.  He  died  in  1638. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  127 

his  mind  was  so  furnished  with  historical  anecdotes,  that  he  could 
at  any  time  draw  off  his  schoolfellows  from  their  play,  who  would 
eagerly  surround  him,  and  with  the  utmost  attention  listen  to  his 
little  tales,  always  calculated  to  inspire  them  with  a  love  of  piety 
and  goodness,  and  excite  in  them  a  virtuous  imitation. 

When  he  was  very  young  he  was  entered  into  Latin  at  London, 
at  the  desire  of  his  master,  though  others  thought  it  too  soon : 
but  he  was  so  eager  and  diligent  in  his  application  that  he  soon 
surpassed  all  his  companions. 

He  was  of  a  grave  disposition,  and  very  early  shewed  a  great 
dislike  of  every  thing  that  savoured  of  worldly  vanity.  In  his 
apparel  he  wished  to  be  neat,  but  refused  all  that  was  not  simple 
and  plain.  When  bands  were  making  for  the  children,  he 
earnestly  entreated  his  mother  that  his  might  not  have  any  lace 
upon  them,  like  those  of  his  brothers,  but  be  made  little  and 
plain,  like  those  of  Mr.  Wotton a,  a  for  I  wish  to  be  a  preacher  as 
he  is."  Mr.  Wotton  was  a  learned  divine  and  reader  of  divinity 
in  Gresham  college.  He  was  frequently  at  Mr.  Ferraris,  and 
always  examined,  and  exercised  young  Nicholas,  being  wonder- 
fully delighted  with  his  ingenuity. 

He  was  good  natured  and  tender  hearted  to  the  highest  degree ; 
so  fearful  of  offending  any  one,  that  upon  the  least  apprehension 
of  having  given  displeasure,  he  would  suddenly  weep  in  the  most 
submissive  manner,  and  appear  extremely  sorry.  His  temper  was 
lovely,  his  countenance  pleasing :  his  constitution  was  not  robust, 
but  he  was  active,  lively,  and  chearful.  Whatsoever  he  went 
about  he  did  it  with  great  spirit,  and  with  a  diligence  and  discre- 
tion above  his  years. 

And  now  the  parents  were  informed  by  their  friends,  and  by 
Mr.  Francis  his  school-master,  that  it  was  time  to  send  him  to 
some  greater  school,  where  he  might  have  a  better  opportunity  to 
improve  himself  in  the  Latin  tongue.  It  was  thereupon  resolved 
to  send  him  and  his  brother  William  to  Euborn,  near  Newbury 
in  Berkshire,  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Brooks,  an  old  friend,  who  had 
many  other  pupils,  who  was  a  religious  and  good  man,  but  a  strict 
disciplinarian. 

While  preparations  were  making  for  this  journey,  an  event 

6  Mr.  Wotton  J\  Anthony  Wotton,  chosen  professor  of  divinity  in  Gresham 
College,  in  March,  1596,  at  its  foundation,  and  lecturer  of  Allhallows,  Bark- 
ing :  he  died  in  1626.  An  account  of  him  and  of  his  works  will  be  found  in 
Ward's  Lives  of  the  Gresham  Professors. 


128  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

took  place  which  made  the  deepest  and  most  lively  impressi( 
upon  the  mind  of  young  Nicholas,  and  strongly  marks  his  cha- 
racter, and  the  bent  of  his  disposition.  He  was  but  six  years 
age,  and  being  one  night  unable  to  sleep,  a  fit  of  scepticism 
seized  his  mind,  and  gave  him  the  greatest  perplexity  and  un< 
siness.  He  doubted  u  Whether  there  was  a  God  f  and  if  there 
was,  "  What  was  the  most  acceptable  mode  of  serving  him  f1 
In  extreme  grief  he  rose  at  midnight,  cold,  and  frosty,  and  wenl 
down  to  a  grass  plat  in  the  garden,  where  he  stood  long  time  sad 
and  pensive,  musing,  and  thinking  seriously  upon  the  great  doubt 
which  thus  extremely  perplexed  him.  At  length,  throwing  him- 
self on  his  face  upon  the  ground,  and  spreading  out  his  hands,  h( 
cried  aloud,  "  Yes,  there  is,  there  must  be  a  God :  and  he,  n< 
question,  if  I  duly  and  earnestly  seek  it  of  him,  will  teach  me  no< 
only  how  to  know,  but  how  to  serve  him  acceptably.  He  will 
with  me  all  my  life  here,  and  at  the  end  will  hereafter  make  m( 
happy." 

These  are  exalted  and  wonderful  sentiments 7  for  a  child  of  si: 

7  Wonderful  sentimentsJ]  It  will  be  proper  to  subjoin  here,  from  Hearne's 
Caii  Vindicia,  vol.  ii.  p.  684,  5,  the  "  Account  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar's  first 
years,  from  a  paper  MS.  of  Dr.  (John)  Worthington's."  Its  value  is  enhanced 
by  Dr.  W.  having  been  well  acquainted  with  the  party. 

"Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  born  about  the  year  1596,  in  London,  of  reli- 
gious parents;  who  taught  him  in  his  infancy  the  first  foundations  of 
Christian  religion.  He  was  taught  at  the  age  of  four  or  five  years  to  say  his 
prayers  often  every  day ;  to  repeat  the  Church  Catechism ;  and  to  read  the 
Psalter  and  the  New  Testament. 

"  When  he  was  six  years  old,  and  by  his  mother  had  been  taught  to  read 
perfectly  throughout  the  whole  Bible,  it  is  worthy  of  memory  and  admiration 
to  hear  what  he  did.  Upon  a  Friday  night  in  summer,  having  supped,  as 
the  manner  was,  with  bread  and  beer,  and  said  his  prayers  and  catechism, 
his  mother  sent  him  up  to  bed.  But  this  good  child,  having  a  mind  set 
upon  God,  went  not  to  bed,  but  into  an  upper  chamber  or  garret;  where, 
upon  his  knees,  or  sometimes  flat  upon  the  ground,  he  prayed,  wept,  com- 
muned with  his  own  heart,  and  with  his  gracious  God  all  the  night.  Two 
things  especially  in  that  night's  holy  exercise  were  so  imprinted  in  the  heart 
and  mind  of  the  child  that  they  came  fresh  into  his  memory  every  day  of  his 
life.  (This  he  told  me  more  than  once,  two  or  three  years  before  his  death.) 
The  one  was,  the  joy  and  sweetness  which  he  did,  in  that  watching  night, 
conceive  and  feel  in  his  heart.  The  other  was  the  gracious  promise  which 
God  made  to  him,  to  bless  and  keep  him  all  his  whole  life,  so  that  he  would 
constantly  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments. 

"This  invocation  and  fervent  prayer  of  this  child,  stirred  up  in  him  by 
the  Spirit  and  grace  of  God,  was  so  followed  by  the  same  Spirit  in  an  evident 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  129 

years  old :  and  this  anecdote  may  influence  the  reader  to  give 
credit  to  those  sublime  ecstasies  of  devotion  which  he  experienced 
and  expressed  at  the  close  of  his  life. 

His  doubts  now  vanished,  his  mind  became  easy,  and  he 
returned  to  his  apartment :  but  the  remembrance  of  what  he  felt 
upon  this  occasion  made  him  ever  after  strongly  commiserate  all 
who  laboured  under  any  religious  doubt,  or  despair  of  mind. 
And  in  the  future  course  of  his  life  he  had  repeated  opportunities 
to  exert  his  benevolence  to  those  who  experienced  a  similar 
unhappiness. 

In  the  year  1598,  he  was  sent  to  Euborn  school,  near  Newbury, 
in  Berkshire,  where  he  made  such  a  rapid  progress  in  Latin, 
Greek,  and  logic,  that  he  soon  became  the  first  scholar  of  his 
years.  He  strengthened  his  memory  by  daily  exercise  :  he  was 
a  great  proficient  in  writing  and  arithmetic,  and  attained  such 
excellence  in  short  hand,  as  to  be  able  to  take  accurately  a  ser- 
mon or  speech  on  any  occasion.  He  was  also  well  skilled  both  in 
the  theory  and  practice  of  vocal  and  instrumental  music. 

Thus  accomplished,  in  his  fourteenth  year,  his  master,  Mr. 
Brooks,  prevailed  with  his  parents  to  send  him  to  Cambridge, 
whither  he  himself  attended  him,  and  admitted  him  of  Clare-hall, 
presenting  him,  with  due  commendation  of  his  uncommon  abilities, 
to  Mr.  Augustine  Lindsell,  the  tutor,  and  Dr.  Wm.  Smith 8,  then 
master  of  the  college. 

His  parents  thought  proper,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrance 
of  some  friends  against  it,  to  admit  him  a  pensioner  for  the  first 
year ;  as  they  conceived  it  more  for  his  good,  to  rise  by  merit 
gradually  to  honour.  In  this  situation,  by  excellent  demeanour, 
and  diligent  application  to  his  studies,  he  so  deported  himself  in 
all  things,  and  to  all  persons,  that  he  instantly  gained  the  affec- 
tions and  applause  of  all  who  knew  him,  performing  all  his  exer- 
cises with  distinguished  approbation. 

Mr.  Lindsell  spared  not  to  make  full  proof  of  his  abilities, 

effectual  vocation  of  him,  that  it  resembleth  the  calling  of  Samuel,  when  he 
was  yet  a  child ;  and  Timothy's  knowing  God  from  his  youth  by  his  mother 
Eunice,  and  his  grandmother  Lois's  godly  admonitions  and  instructions. 
"At  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  went  to  Cambridge,  to  Clare  Hall." 
8  Dr.  Wm.  Smith.']  Or  Smyth,  fellow  of  King's  College,  elected  master  of 
Clare  Hall  in  15Q8,  chaplain  to  king  James  and  rector  of  Willingham  in  1607. 
He  died  provost  of  King's  in  1615. 

VOL.  iv.  K 


130  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

wishing,  as  he  was  used  to  express  himself,  to  see  his  inside,  as 
well  as  his  outside.  He  therefore  made  many  trials  of  his  abili- 
ties, which  the  rest  of  the  fellows  thought  unreasonable ;  saying 
"it  was  a  shame  to  spur  a  fleet  horse,  which  already  outwent  the 
rider's  own  desire,  and  won  every  race  he  put  him  to."  When 
they  urged  that  he  required  impossibilities,  he  would  reply,  "  con- 
tent yourselves  a  little,  you  shall  see  what  the  boy  can  do,  and 
that  too  without  much  trouble."  These  proofs  of  wonderful  abi- 
lities were  continually  repeated,  and  he  thus  went  on  from  day  to 
day  improving  in  all  good  learning.  His  attention  and  diligence 
was  such,  that  it  was  observed  his  chamber  might  be  known  by 
the  candle  that  was  last  put  out  at  night,  and  the  first  lighted  in 
the  morning.  Nor  was  he  less  diligent  in  his  attendance  at 
chapel,  than  at  his  studies,  so  that  his  piety  and  learning  went  on 
hand  in  hand  together. 

In  his  second  year  he  became  fellow-commoner,  and  being  now 
every  day  more  and  more  the  companion  of  the  fellows,  he  every 
day  became  more  and  more  esteemed  by  them.  In  1610,  he  took 
his  degree  of  bachelor  of  arts.  At  this  time  he  was  appointed 
to  make  the  speech  on  the  king's  coronation  day  (July  25)  in  the 
college  hall ;  and  the  same  year  he  was  elected  fellow  of  that 
society. 

If  we  take  a  view  of  him  at  this  period  when  he  became  fellow, 
we  shall  find  that  his  natural  parts  were  wonderfully  improved, 
his  memory  so  enlarged  and  strengthened,  that  he  had  read  no- 
thing of  worth,  but  he  had  made  it  his  own,  and  could  always 
instantly  apply  it  to  the  present  occasion.  He  spoke  also  and 
wrote,  and  argued  with  such  ingenious  dexterity  that  very  few 
indeed  were  equal  to  him.  Nevertheless  he  was  still  so  eager  in 
the  pursuit  of  farther  acquisitions,  that  industry  and  genius 
seemed  to  be  incorporated  in  him.  Nor  was  he  more  attentive 
to  his  own  instruction,  than  to  the  happiness  of  all  with  whom  he 
was  concerned.  For  he  was  a  constant  and  indefatigable  pro- 
moter of  peace ;  and  when  any  difference  had  arisen,  he  had  tin1 
art  so  to  win  upon  each  side,  that  he  would  draw  the  ooateadiag 
parties  from  their  unfriendly  resolutions,  and  reanimate  and 
blish  harmony  between  them.  Mr.  Lindsell  was  used  to  say  of 
him,  "  May  God  keep  him  in  a  right  mind  !  For  if  he  should 
turn  schismatic,  or  heretic,  he  would  make  work  for  all  the  world. 
Such  a  head,  such  power  of  argument  !  such  a  tongue,  and  su.-h 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  131 

a  pen !  such  a  memory  withal  he  hath,  with  such  indefatigable 
pains,  that,  all  these  joined  together,  I  know  not  who  would  be 
able  to  contend  with  him." 

His  constitution  was  of  feminine  delicacy,  and  he  was  very  sub- 
ject to  aguish  disorders ;  yet  he  bore  them  out  in  a  great  measure 
by  his  temperance,  and  by  a  peculiar  courageousness  of  spirit 
which  was  natural  to  him.  His  favourite  sister,  married  to  Mr. 
Collet,  lived  at  Bourn  Bridge,  near  Cambridge.  And  as  the  air 
of  Cambridge  was  found  not  well  to  agree  with  him,  he  made 
frequent  excursions  to  Bourn  Bridge,  where  he  passed  his  time 
in  the  pursuit  of  his  studies,  and  in  the  instruction  of  his  sister's 
children. 

But  his  tutor,  Mr.  Lindsell,  Mr.  Ruggle9,  and  others  of  the 
fellows,  having  now  apprehension  of  his  health,  carried  him  to  Dr. 
Butler,  the  celebrated  physician l  of  Cambridge,  who  had  been  of 
Clare-hall,  and  was  a  particular  friend  of  Mr.  Lindsell.  Dr.  But- 
ler conceived  a  great  affection  for  Mr.  Ferrar,  and  exerted  all  his 
skill ;  yet  still  the  disorder  increased  more  and  more  upon  him ; 
and  at  length  this  good  physician  said,  "  Why  should  I  give  thee 
any  more  prescriptions  ?  ah1  I  can  do  will  not  conquer  this  dis- 
temper. Alas !  all  I  can  say  is,  you  must  henceforth  deal  with 

9  Mr.  Ruggle.~\  [Mr.  Ruggle  wrote  the  Latin  comedy  of  Ignoramus,  which 
was  several  times  acted  before  king  James  I.  at  Cambridge  and  Royston, 
with  great  applause.  At  one  of  which  times  the  king  cried  out  treason, 
treason.  And  being  asked  what  was  the  matter,  said,  he  believed  the  author 
and  the  actors  together  had  a  design  to  make  him  laugh  himself  to  death. 
Another  time,  when  the  king  was  seated,  and  expected  the  scholars  to  per- 
form, he  was  surprised  with  the  sound  of  a  horn,  and  the  appearance  of  a 
post-boy,  who  said  that  Ignoramus  was  ready  to  perform  his  part,  but  that 
none  of  the  lawyers  would  lend  him  a  gown  to  act  in.  Ah!  said  the  king 
(who  was  deceived,  and  took  the  scholar  for  a  real  post-boy),  this  is  a  plot  of 
Cukes  !  (meaning  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke.)  But  if  Cuke  won't  let  the 
lawyers  lend  him  a  gown,  by  my  saul,  man,  he  shall  lend  him  his  own.  This 
speech  of  the  king  put  the  audience  into  an  exceeding  merry  humour,  and 
the  play  went  on.  But  it  is  suggested  that  the  play  of  Ignoramus,  acted  at 
Cambridge,  1614,  occasioned  Mr.  Selden's  History  of  Tithes,  published  1616, 
in  order  to  be  even  with  the  clergy.  See  Lloyd's  Memoirs,  fol.  p.  520.  F.  P.] 

1  Celebrated  physician.]  William  Butler,  who  died  29th  January,  1618. 
He  declared  that  prince  Henry  was  poisoned,  "  from  his  brain  being  liver- 
coloured  and  putrefied."  Peacham  says  of  him,  "our  late  Master  Butler  of 
Cambridge,  that  learned  and  excellent  physician,  was,  like  sir  Thomas  More 
and  other  great  scholars,  observed  to  be  most  careless  and  slovenly  in  his 
apparel." 

K    2 


132  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

this  disorder  when  it  comes  to  you,  as  men  do  with  beggars, 
when  they  have  a  mind  to  disuse  them  from  their  houses,  give 
them  nothing  but  let  them  go  as  they  came.  You  must  through 
a  spare  diet,  and  great  temperance,  even  all  your  lite  long,  seek 
to  be  quit  of  this  unhappy  companion :  he  must  be  starved  away." 

For  some  time  after  this  Mr.  Ferrar  grew  better,  but  soon 
relapsed  again,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1612,  he  began  to  grow 
very  ill.  His  friends  now  feared  he  would  not  get  over  the 
winter.  Dr.  Butler  said,  "  I  can  do  no  more  for  him,  the  last 
remedy,  or  hope  I  can  give  you  is  from  the  change  of  air.  He 
must  go  in  the  spring  to  travel.  I  doubt  not  but  I  can  keep  him 
up  this  winter,  and  if  travel  recover  him  not,  nothing  will.  Be- 
sides, it  is  high  time  his  mind  be  taken  off  from  these  his  in- 
cessant studies  ;  these  alone,  if  he  be  permitted  to  go  on,  will 
speedily  destroy  his  constitution.  The  course  I  propose  may 
prolong  his  life  till  he  is  thirty-five  years  of  age  ;  but  longer,  in 
my  judgment,  it  will  not  last.  In  the  mean  time,  he  will  live  to 
do  great  good.  And  think  not  that  his  time  spent  in  travel  will 
be  lost ;  no :  depend  upon  it  he  will  improve  himself  greatly. 
Mr.  Lindsell,  go  your  way ;  think  of  it :  persuade  his  parents  to 
it.  I  can  say  no  more  to  you.  Let  him  go  next  spring.  I  will 
take  care  of  him  this  winter."  And  so  he  did  most  affectionately. 

Mr.  Ferrar  was  now  almost  seven  years  standing  in  the  uni- 
versity, and  was  to  take  his  master  of  arts  degree  at  the  ensuing 
Midsummer,  1613;  and  he  had  already  performed  with  great 
credit  all  his  previous  exercises. 

It  being  made  known  to  the  heads  of  the  university  that  he 
was  to  travel,  and  to  have  the  opportunity  of  going  with  that 
noble  company  which  then  went  with  the  lady  Elizabeth2  to  con- 
duct her  to  the  palatinate  with  the  palsgrave  her  husband,  it  was 
propounded  that  he  might  have  the  favour  of  cap  and  hood  imme- 
diately, though  before  the  usual  time,  so  as  to  be  complete  master 
of  arts  before  his  departure,  which  was  readily  granted,  and  im- 
mediately his  graces  were  given  him.  And  now  many  came  to 
present  their  most  affectionate  wishes  to  him  for  health  and  hap- 
piness in  his  travels.  And  thus  he  bade  Cambridge  adieu  ! 

2  Lady  Elizabeth.']  Princess-royal  of  England,  daughter  of  Jaines  I.,  and 
wife  of  Frederic,  elector  palatine,  to  whom  she  was  married  in  February,  1613. 
He  assumed  the  crown  of  Bohemia  in  1C  19,  but  after  the  battle  of  Prague, 
in  November,  1620,  he  not  only  lost  his  crown,  but  also  his  hereditary 
dominions. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  133 

All  things  being  settled  with  respect  to  his  going  abroad,  Mr. 
Ferrar  left  the  following  written  farewell  to  his  family,  which  his 
mother  found  in  his  study  a  few  days  after  he  was  gone. 

"  Since  there  is  nothing  more  certain  than  death,  nor  more 
uncertain  than  the  time  when ;  I  have  thought  it  the  first  and 
chiefest  wisdom  for  a  man  to  prepare  himself  for  that  which  must 
one  day  come,  and  always  be  ready  for  that  which  may  every 
hour  happen :  especially  considering  how  dangerous  any  error  is 
here,  which  cannot  be  amended :  neither  is  any  one  the  nearer  to 
death  for  having  prepared  for  it.  It  is  then  a  thing  of  exceeding 
madness  and  folly  to  be  negligent  in  so  weighty  a  matter,  in  re- 
spect whereof  all  other  things  are  trifles.  I  here  confess  my  own 
wretchedness  and  folly  in  this,  that  through  the  common  hope  of 
youth,  I  have  set  death  far  from  me  :  and  persuading  myself  that 
I  had  a  long  way  to  go,  have  walked  more  carelessly  than  I  ought. 
The  good  Lord  God  be  merciful  unto  me. 

"  Indeed  I  have  a  long  way  to  run,  if  death  stood  still  at  the 
end  of  threescore  years :  but  God  knows  if  he  be  not  running 
against  me,  if  he  be  not  ready  to  grasp  me,  especially  considering 
the  many  dangers  wherein  I  am  now  to  hazard  myself,  in  every 
one  whereof  death  dwells.  If  God  be  merciful  to  me,  and  bring 
me  safe  home  again,  I  will  all  the  days  of  my  life  serve  him  in  his 
tabernacle,  and  in  his  holy  sanctuary. 

"  I  hope  he  who  hath  begun  this  mind  in  me  will  continue  it, 
and  make  me  to  walk  so  as  I  may  be  always  ready  for  him,  when 
he  shall  come  either  in  the  public  judgment  of  all  the  world,  or 
in  private  judgment  to  me  by  death.  This  is  my  purpose  and 
this  shall  be  my  labour. 

"  And  you,  my  most  dear  parents,  if  God  shall  take  me  from 
you,  I  beseech  you  be  of  good  comfort,  and  be  not  grieved  at  my 
death,  which  I  undoubtedly  hope  shall  be  to  me  the  beginning  of 
eternal  happiness.  It  was  God  that  gave  me  to  you,  and  if  he 
take  me  from  you,  be  not  only  content  but  joyful  that  I  am  deli- 
vered from  the  vale  of  misery.  This  God  that  hath  kept  me  ever 
since  I  was  born,  will  preserve  me  to  the  end,  and  will  give  me 
grace  to  live  in  his  faith,  to  die  in  his  favour,  to  rest  in  his  peace, 
to  rise  in  his  power,  and  to  reign  in  his  glory. 

"  I  know,  my  most  dear  parents,  your  tender  affections  to- 
wards your  children,  and  fear  your  grief  if  God  take  me  away. 
I  therefore  write  and  leave  this,  that  you  might  know  your  son's 


134  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

estate,  and  assure  yourselves  that  though  he  be  dead  to  you,  yet 
he  is  alive  to  God. 

"  I  now  most  humbly  beseech  you  to  pardon  me  in  whatsoever 
I  may  have  at  any  time  displeased  you  :  and  I  pray  God  to  bless 
and  keep  you :  to  give  you  a  happy  life  here,  and  everlasting  in 
the  world  to  come. 

"  Your  most  humble  and  obedient  son, 

"  N.  FERRAR." 

"  Postscript, 

"  My  dearest  brothers  and  sisters ;  If  I  live,  you  shall  find  me 
a  faithful  and  loving  brother  unto  you  all :  if  I  die,  I  beseech  you 
by  the  fear  of  God,  by  the  duty  to  your  parents,  by  the  bond  of 
nature,  by  the  love  you  bear  me,  that  you  all  agree  in  perfect  love 
and  amity ;  and  account  every  one  the  other's  burthen  to  be  his ; 
so  may  plenty  and  prosperity  dwell  among  you.  So  prays  your 
faithful  and  loving  brother 

"  N.  FEURAR." 

"  If  I  die,  I  desire  that  the  value  of  ol.  of  my  books  may  be 
given  to  the  college  :  the  rest  I  leave  to  my  father's  and  mother's 
disposing :  yet  I  desire  that  in  them  my  worthy  tutor  Lindsel 
and  cousin  Theophilus  may  be  remembered :  and  if  any  of  my 
sisters'  sons  prove  a  scholar,  the  rest  may  be  given  to  him. 

"  This  10th  day  of  April,  being  Sunday." 

His  parents'  consent,  and  the  college  license  obtained,  and  the 
favour  of  the  university  granted  with  respect  to  his  degree,  Mr. 
Ferrar  prepared  to  set  out  upon  his  travels :  a  course  of  life 
undertaken  upon  Dr.  Butler's  counsel,  for  the  restoration  of  his 
health,  and  to  take  him  off  from  his  incessant  application  to 
his  studies.  He  also  himself  had  a  desire  to  see  foreign  coun- 
tries for  the  further  acquisition  of  knowledge.  And  as  he  \u-ll 
understood  the  grounds  of  the  protestant  religion,  and  was  con- 
vinced of  its  truth  on  scriptural  authority,  as  he  had  read  most 
of  the  fathers,  and  controversial  writings  between  the  church  of 
England  and  the  church  of  Rome,  and  as  he  had  a  memory  so 
retentive,  that  he  forgot  nothing  which  he  had  read,  but  was  able 
at  all  times  to  bring  it  forth,  and  apply  it  to  the  present  occasion, 
being  thus  armed  before-hand  against  whatever  might  occur,  and 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  135 

relying  wholly  upon  the  mercy  of  God  to  protect  him,  with  the 
most  virtuous  resolutions  of  heart  he  set  out  upon  his  travels. 

His  tutor  Lindsell  solemnly  protested  that  had  he  not  per- 
fectly known  his  wonderful  abilities  and  uncommon  virtue,  he 
should  not  in  these  so  tender  years  of  his  pupil  have  been  a  pro- 
moter of  his  travelling  in  the  manner  he  did,  all  alone  ;  but  would 
have  provided  some  worthy  tutor  to  attend  him.  He  knew  that 
in  all  virtue  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  an  old  man,  so  firmly  fixed  in 
his  religious  principles,  that  there  was  no  fear  of  his  being  se- 
duced by  any  thing  that  he  should  hear  or  see.  He  knew  that 
the  stock  of  learning,  wisdom,  and  religion  which  he  carried  out 
with  him,  would  be  increased  at  his  return. 

With  these  encouragements  did  Mr.  Lindsell  appease  the  fears 
and  tender  anxieties  of  his  parents  at  parting  with  him :  for  they 
bade  him  farewell  under  the  dread  of  never  seeing  him  again. 
And  indeed  not  without  reason  :  for  he  was  then  far  from  being 
recovered  of  his  aguish  disorder :  but  Dr.  Butler  said  the  sea 
would  remove  it,  and  they  would  soon  hear  that  he  was  freed 
from  his  infirmity. 

Sometime  before  this 3,  Dr.  Scot 4,  the  king's  sub-almoner,  was 
made  master  of  Clare-hall,  in  the  place  of  Dr.  Smith,  removed  to 
be  provost  of  Kings.  He  conceived  a  high  respect  and  affection 
for  Nicholas  Ferrar,  and  undertook  that  he  should  be  introduced 
to  the  lady  Elizabeth,  to  go  in  her  company  and  retinue ;  she 
being  now  ready  to  depart  with  the  prince  palsgrave  her  husband, 
who  were  to  go  first  to  Zealand,  then  to  Holland,  and  from  thence 
home  to  the  palatinate.  Dr.  Scot  therefore  took  Mr.  Ferrar  to 
court,  to  kiss  her  royal  highness1  hand  :  not  now  in  the  garb  of  a 
scholar,  but  habited  as  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  belonged  to 
her.  As  for  him  he  took  no  delight  in  these  gay  garments,  but 
submitted  from  a  sense  of  propriety  to  be  thus  clad,  and  to  satisfy 
his  friends  more  than  himself.  Dr.  Scot  also  introduced  him,  and 
procured  him  the  knowledge  and  acquaintance  of  the  whole  at- 
tendance of  the  English  courtiers  who  then  went  with  the  lady 
Elizabeth. 

Being  now  provided  with  his  bills  of  exchange,  he  went  in  the 
same  ship  with  the  master  of  the  green  cloth,  who  took  an  espe- 
cial liking  to  him.  They  arrived  happily  at  Flushing,  where  the 

3  Before  this.']  In  1612. 

4  Dr.  Scot.']  Who  was  afterwards  made  dean  of  Rochester,  in  July,  1615, 
and  died  in  December,  1620. 


136  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

royal  fleet  landed  their  passengers.  And  in  this  voyage  Mr. 
Ferrar  found  the  benefit  of  the  sea  air  which,  as  Dr.  Butler  told 
him  it  would,  cleared  him  of  all  the  remains  of  his  disorder.  At 
Middleburgh  the  lady  Elizabeth  was  highly  entertained  and 
feasted  with  all  her  noble  attendants ;  and  Mr.  Ferrar  as  one  of 
her  gentlemen  wanted  for  no  marks  of  due  notice  and  respect. 
Here  he  made  strict  observation  of  every  thing  worth  seeing,  and 
gained  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  the  language  to  serve  him 
for  all  ordinary  affairs  and  occasions.  From  thence  the  lady 
Elizabeth  passed  on  from  city  to  city,  in  all  which  she  was  received 
with  great  honour,  and  came  to  the  Hague:  from  thence  to 
Amsterdam,  where  she  was  more  magnificently  entertained  than 
at  any  former  place.  In  all  these  towns  Mr.  Ferrar  visited  the 
several  meeting-houses  of  the  Brownists,  Anabaptists,  and  other 
Protestant  dissenters,  both  to  observe  their  manners  and  teaching, 
and  to  see  if  all  were  answerable  to  his  own  former  reading.  At 
all  which  times  he  noted  their  errors,  and  greatly  confirmed  him- 
self in  his  own  opinions.  The  Jews'  synagogue  likewise  he  left 
not  unseen,  and  their  orders.  But  that  which  chiefly  attracted 
his  notice  at  Amsterdam  was  their  guest,  or  almshouses,  where 
young  children  of  both  sexes  are  brought  up  to  learn  handicrafts. 
Here  he  got  particular  information  of  all  their  proceedings,  and 
very  liberally  rewarded  the  attendants.  He  particularly  admired 
the  stateliness  and  neatness  of  the  Dutch  in  these  public  edifices, 
and  the  wonderful  good  orders  and  rules  by  which  they  are  go- 
verned. He  also  visited  their  churches,  heard  their  sermons,  and 
attended  all  their  religious  rites  and  ceremonies.  He  next  observed 
their  magazines  for  all  sorts  of  stores :  their  innumerable  boats 
and  ships,  and  noted  the  different  way  of  building  from  ours  in 
the  structure  of  their  war  ships.  Ours  he  perceived  were  stronger 
made,  but  theirs  formed  with  more  advantage  for  speedy  sailing. 
He  was  also  charmed  with  their  cleanliness  and  the  many  good 
orders  every  where  observed  to  that  intent.  And  he  observed 
that  the  whole  nation  kept  their  houses  elegantly  neat  in  all  places. 
When  he  came  to  his  lodgings  he  regularly  entered  all  his  obser- 
vations in  a  book  which  he  kept  for  that  purpose. 

The  princess  royal  now  directed  her  course  towards  the  pala- 
tinate, which  was  different  from  the  route  intended  by  Mr.  Ferrar, 
who  had  resolved  to  pass  through  the  lower  parts  of  Westphalia, 
and  so  to  Bremen,  Staad,  Hamburgh,  Lunenburgh,  Lulu-ck. 
Leipsic,  and  so  on  to  the  upper  parts  of  Germany.  This  his  deter- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  137 

mination  he  made  known  to  the  lady  Elizabeths  chief  attendants, 
who  warmly  pressed  him  to  accompany  them  to  Heidelberg,  the 
palsgrave^s  court,  and  the  chief  city  of  the  palatinate.  They  told 
him  that  her  highness  had  taken  such  good  notice  of  him  herself, 
and  had  heard  so  much  of  him  from  the  commendations  of  others, 
that  if  he  sought  preferment  by  his  travels,  he  might  now,  even 
at  the  first,  make  a  very  fair  step  towards  it.  There  was  no 
doubt  but  he  might  be  made  her  secretary,  that  she  would  think 
him  well  worthy  of  that  place,  and  might  recommend  him  to  a 
better.  He  humbly  thanked  them  for  their  good  opinion,  but 
assured  them  they  were  mistaken  in  his  abilities.  He  was  then 
introduced  to  her  royal  highness,  and  kissed  her  hand,  who  bade 
him  farewell,  and  wished  him  much  happiness  in  his  travels. 

Mr.  Ferrar  now  set  forward  on  his  journey  from  Amsterdam  to 
Hamburgh,  and  on  his  way  thither  he  travelled  for  some  time 
with  a  person  for  his  guide,  who  had  but  one  eye.  After  some 
days1  travel  they  passed  by  a  wood,  where  was  a  gibbet  and  some 
bodies  hanging  in  chains.  "  Now,"  said  the  postman,  "  sir,  look 
yonder ;  those  villains  there  hanging,  some  years  since  set  upon 
my  waggon,  wherein  were  an  English  youth,  and  a  Hamburgh 
merchant,  then  newly  come  out  of  Spain.  The  rogues  carried  us 
into  that  wood  on  a  cold  frosty  morning  and  stripped  us  :  and 
they  found  good  gold  tied  up  in  the  shirts  of  the  gentlemen  who 
had  travelled  with  me,  which  they  took,  then  drank  up  our  wine, 
and  went  away  laughing.  But  sometime  after,  they,  still  using 
the  same  trade,  set  upon  another  waggon,  whose  passengers  made 
some  resistance,  when  they  shot  three  of  them  dead  in  the  waggon, 
and  then  fled.  They  were  afterwards  taken,  and  there  hanged  as 
you  see."  "  Your  history  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Ferrar ;  "  for  that 
English  youth  was  my  brother.  He  has  told  me  this  story  him- 
self. And  when  I  first  saw  you,  I  knew  you  to  be  the  postman 
with  whom  he  travelled,  for  he  described  you  as  having  but  one 
eye." 

At  length  he  arrived  at  Hamburgh,  where  the  factors  of  the 
merchant  adventurers  were  resident,  to  whom  his  father  and  bro- 
ther were  well  known.  Here  he  found  fresh  bills  of  exchange, 
and  letters  from  his  father  to  Mr.  Gore,  his  old  acquaintance,  and 
then  deputy-governor  of  the  company ;  who  received  Mr.  Ferrar 
with  great  friendship  and  respect,  and  provided  a  convenient 
lodging  for  him.  During  his  stay  here  he  procured  a  scholar  of 
that  country  to  attend  him  daily  at  his  lodgings,  and  instruct  him 


138  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

in  the  high  Dutch5  language,  in  which  he  made  such  a  proficiency 
as  to  be  of  great  service  in  the  course  of  his  travels.  Here  also 
in  the  afternoon  he  spent  some  hours  in  examining  the  curiosities 
in  this  city,  and  in  the  places  adjacent.  And  here  he  informed 
himself  by  reading  the  histories  in  the  Dutch  language,  and  by 
discourse  with  men  of  learning  in  the  place,  of  the  original  of  this 
and  the  neighbouring  cities  :  of  their  several  sorts  of  government ; 
their  religion  ;  ecclesiastical  establishment ;  their  trades  ;  their 
commerce ;  the  nature  and  disposition  of  the  people,  and  their 
particular  virtues  and  vices. 

From  Hamburg  Mr.  Ferrar  travelled  up  the  country  through 
many  cities,  at  each  of  which  he  staid  a  sufficient  time  to  see,  and 
make  observations  upon  all  things  worthy  of  notice,  which  he 
regularly  entered  into  his  book  for  that  use  in  short  hand. 

In  this  manner  he  passed  up  to  the  university  of  Leipsic  in 
Saxony :  where,  having  proper  letters  of  credit,  he  resolved  to 
abide  for  some  time,  both  to  perfect  himself  in  the  high  Dutch 
language,  and  to  gain  also  what  other  knowledge  and  learning  he 
could  in  that  place ;  and  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  manner 
of  ordering  all  things  in  that  university.  He  lodged  himself 
therefore  in  a  principal  house  of  that  city,  which  by  a  friend's 
help  he  obtained  permission  to  do ;  and  the  people  there  were  very 
civil  and  courteous  to  him.  The  English  factors  shewed  him 
much  respect,  and  were  greatly  delighted  with  his  pleasant  dispo- 
sition and  temper.  And  they  were  the  more  taken  with  him 
when  they  saw  that  he  would  not  upon  any  terms  drink  wine  or 
any  strong  drink,  and  had  also  observed  his  great  temperance  in 
all  things,  and  that  he  was  very  humble  and  meek  in  his  behaviour. 
Yet  still  they  saw  him  gallant  and  rich  in  apparel.  But  that 
fashion  of  dress  his  parents  thought  was  the  best  for  him  to  make 
use  of  in  his  travels,  that  so,  according  to  the  mode  of  the  world, 
he  might  have  the  easier  admittance  into  all  places,  and  all 
respectable  company. 

At  Leipsic  he  made  enquiry  after  all  the  ablest  scholars  in 
every  art  and  science  in  that  university,  who  could  be  procured 
for  money  to  teach  him  ;  and  he  paid  them  all  most  liberally,  and 
far  beyond  their  expectations.  From  these  circumstances  he  was 
thought  to  be  some  person  of  great  account.  These  his  several 
tutors  coming  to  him  at  set  times,  and  on  several  days,  and  his 

ifjh  Dutch."}  The  German  language,  die  dcutschc  Sprache. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  139 

personal  resorting  with  the  utmost  diligence  to  all  the  exercises 
performed  in  the  public  schools,  made  him  to  be  very  much 
noticed.  He  gained  great  reputation  for  his  uncommon  abilities, 
his  diligence,  and  his  sweet  deportment ;  his  extraordinary  quick- 
ness in  attaining  whatsoever  he  set  himself  to,  the  elegant  Latin 
which  he  spake  with  the  utmost  readiness,  and  his  abundant  know- 
ledge in  several  sorts  of  learning.  The  universal  admiration  he 
obtained  was  also  much  heightened  by  his  being  so  very  young. 
His  acquaintance  was  desired  by  all  the  learned  men  of  that 
university  :  and  he  being  free  in  all  courtesy  to  enter  into  discourse 
with  them,  many  every  day  resorted  to  him.  But  finding  that 
this  took  up  too  much  of  his  time,  he  privately  retired  into  lodg- 
ings in  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  there  enjoyed  a  better 
opportunity  to  follow  the  studies  he  had  resolved  upon ;  his  tutors 
attending  him  as  they  had  done  before.  And  here  he  passed 
some  time  in  reading  over  the  best  authors  who  had  written  on 
the  German  nation,  and  in  acquainting  himself  with  the  nature  of 
the  government,  laws,  and  customs. 

The  connection  of  the  English  factors  at  Leipsic  with  their 
principals  at  home  soon  transmitted  the  fame  of  Nicholas  Ferrar 
to  England,  who  was  deemed  and  represented  as  a  person  who 
had  some  great  intent  in  his  mind,  but  that  it  was  feared  by  all 
that  he  could  not  live  to  be  a  man  of  any  considerable  years. 

As  on  one  hand  his  parents  could  not  but  rejoice  on  hearing 
these  accounts,  so  on  the  other  they  could  not  help  fearing  that 
his  extreme  application  might,  though  at  present  he  was  in  per- 
fect health,  nevertheless  decay  his  strength,  and  shorten  his  life. 
They  therefore  exhorted  him  to  curb  his  too  diligent  mind,  and  to 
abate  of  his  incessant  studies,  for  that  they  would  allow  him  what 
time  and  money  he  would  for  his  expences. 

Having  now  learned  what  he  could  at  Leipsic,  he  departed 
from  thence  for  Prague,  and  there  he  abode  a  considerable  time, 
till  he  was  able  to  converse  fluently  in  the  high  Dutch  language. 
From  thence  he  wandered  up  and  down,  to  every  great  place  here 
and  there,  sometimes  backwards,  sometimes  forward,  visiting 
Augsburg,  Strasburg,  Nuremberg,  Ulme,  Spires,  the  emperor's 
court,  and  so  from  one  princess  court  to  another,  observing  every 
where  their  manner  of  living,  and  spending  their  time  ;  what 
magazines  of  arms  they  had  ;  what  retinues  they  kept ;  what  their 
incomes  were  ;  from  whence  they  had  their  origin ;  what  had 
been  their  revolutions ;  and  accurately  noting  down  whatever 


140  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Germany  had  in  any  place  worth  recording.  There  being  also  in 
several  parts  of  Germany  very  ingenious  handicrafts  of  various 
sorts,  in  all  these  he  acquired  a  considerable  degree  of  knowledge. 
So  that  there  was  scarce  any  trade,  art,  skill  or  science  concerning 
which  he  could  not  discourse  to  the  astonishment  even  of  the 
professors  themselves  in  their  respective  professions.  He  was 
master  also  of  the  technical  terms  of  their  several  mysteries,  and 
could  speak  properly  to  them  in  their  own  dialect.  He  could 
express  all  those  things  that  belong  to  war,  soldiery,  and  arms, 
all  that  belong  to  ships,  and  navigation,  and  was  perfect  in  all  the 
mariners^  peculiar  phrases,  and  in  all  the  particularities  of  every 
trade  and  occupation  in  common  life.  And  in  truth  all  this  with- 
out any  great  care  or  trouble.  For  his  penetration  was  so  acute, 
and  his  memory  so  vast  and  retentive  ;  that  every  thing  he  read, 
or  heard,  or  saw,  was  all  his  own,  and  he  could  instantly  apply  it 
to  the  occasion  that  presented  itself,  as  all  who  knew  him  found 
by  daily  proof. 

From  Germany,  Nicholas  Ferrar  bent  his  course  for  Italy. 
But  the  plague  being  at  that  time  in  many  towns  of  Germany, 
when  he  came  into  the  Venetian  territories,  he  was  obliged  to 
remain  thirty  days  in  one  place  in  a  lazaretto,  where  he  was  shut 
up  for  public  security ;  but  was  allowed  a  chamber  to  himself. 
Here  he  had  leisure  to  recollect  all  those  things,  which  to  that 
time  had  passed  in  his  travels ;  to  review  his  notes  and  observa- 
tions, which  he  had  before  all  along  put  into  short  hand  ;  and  to 
digest  them  into  better  order  for  his  future  use.  Here  also  he 
had  time  to  meditate  what  he  was  to  do  in  Italy  ;  how  to  order 
himself  and  his  future  life  to  the  best  advantage  to  attain  his 
several  ends  in  travel. 

Having  compleated  the  thirty  days  of  his  confinement,  and 
being  again  at  liberty  to  prosecute  his  journey,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  to  relate  a  remarkable  escape  he  had  upon  the  road  betwivn 
Prague  and  Padua.  As  he  rode  one  day  upon  some  very  narrow 
and  dangerous  passages  of  the  Alps,  his  guide  being  somewhat 
before  him,  suddenly  from  the  side  of  a  hill  came  an  ass  laden 
with  a  great  piece  of  timber.  The  passage  down  the  hill  was 
(  xtremely  narrow,  on  one  side  very  high  and  precipitous  above 
him,  and  on  the  other  also  precipitously  steep  and  fearful,  so  that 
if  any  man  fell,  nothing  but  immediate  death  could  be  expected. 
The  timber  did  not  lie,  as  at  first  laid  down,  lengthwise,  but  quite 
across  the  ass's  back,  and  reached  the  whole  breadth  of  the  j«a» 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  141 

from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  the  beast  came  down  the  hill 
apace.  The  guide,  who  was  advanced  a  few  yards,  and  had  passed 
the  narrow  crevice  through  which  the  ass  came  into  the  common 
road,  seeing  Mr.  Ferrar's  situation,  cried  out  in  terror.  The 
man's  exclamation  caused  Mr.  Ferrar  to  look  up,  who  was  care- 
fully regarding  his  horsed  steps,  and  was  then  upon  the  extreme 
brink  of  the  precipice.  There  was  but  a  moment  between  him 
and  certain  destruction;  when  in  that  moment,  just  as  the  beast 
came  upon  him  she  tripped,  and  by  that  motion  the  timber  was 
turned  the  right  way  as  it  was  at  first  laid  on.  Mr.  Ferrar  then 
suddenly  stopping  his  horse  upon  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice, 
there  stood  still,  till,  as  it  pleased  God,  the  beast  went  quietly  on 
with  her  burthen,  and  passed  him  without  any  harm  but  a  slight 
stroke  from  the  timber.  After  this  providential  escape,  for  which 
he  returned  his  most  devout  thanks  to  God,  he  proceeded  on  his 
road  to  Padua,  and  so  on  to  Venice,  without  any  other  disaster. 

At  Venice  Mr.  Ferrar  found  letters  of  recommendation  directed 
for  sir  Dudley  Carleton,  at  that  time 6  the  English  ambassador 
there,  which  he  presented  to  him,  who  most  courteously  embraced 
him,  saying,  u  I  have  a  long  time  expected  your  coming  to 
Venice ;  for  I  have  received  several  letters  from  many  noble 
personages  concerning  you.  And  now,  sir,  assure  yourself  that 
wherein  I  may  in  any  kind  befriend  you,  I  shall  most  gladly  do 
it."  The  ambassador  then  caused  him  to  dine  with  him,  and 
invited  him,  he  said,  once  for  all  to  do  so  every  day.  Mr.  Ferrar 
frequently  repaired  to  him  that  he  might  inform  himself  from  so 
eminent  a  person  of  those  things  that  might  be  of  service  to  him 
in  his  future  travels. 

Having  now  staid  a  convenient  time  at  Venice,  he  returned  to 
Padua,  which  before  he  had  only  passed  through,  but  now  resolved 
to  settle  there  for  some  time ;  in  order  to  perfect  himself  in  all 
the  learning  and  knowledge  to  be  attained  in  that  university. 
Here  therefore  he  procured  tutors  in  those  sciences  in  which  he 
intended  to  be  farther  instructed.  And  he  won  their  highest 
admiration  at  his  ingenious  questions  and  answers,  his  ready 
apprehension,  his  earnest  prosecution,  and  his  wonderful  pro- 
ficiency, in  so  many  and  such  various  studies,  which  at  the  same 
time  seemed  to  him  no  other  than  so  many  several  recreations. 


6  At  that  time.']   From  1610  to  1615,  when  he  was  succeeded  by  sir  Henry 
Wotton. 


142  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

His  acquaintance  was  courted  by  all  the  learned  men  in  the 
university,  but  particularly  by  the  most  eminent  physicians ;  as 
he  bestowed  uncommon  diligence  in  the  pursuit  of  medical  know- 
ledge. And  this  he  did  from  a  double  motive,  both  because  he 
held  the  physic  fellowship  at  Clare  Hall,  and  also  on  account  of 
the  infirm  and  precarious  state  of  his  own  health :  in  which 
respect  a  proper  proficiency  in  the  science  of  medicine  might  be 
peculiarly  serviceable  to  him.  And  now  his  friendship  with  the 
Paduan  physicians,  and  their  high  esteem  and  great  love  for  him, 
was  of  singular  benefit  to  him  :  for  he  fell  very  dangerously  ill  of 
a  disorder,  which  in  all  human  probability  would  have  proved 
fatal,  had  it  not  been  for  their  watchful  care,  and  most  tender 
attentions. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  Mr.  Archdeacon  Oleya,  that  some  of 
these  Paduan  physicians,  during  Mr.  Ferrar's  illness,  endeavored 
to  seduce  him  to  popery :  as  also,  that  upon  his  recovery  from 
this  illness,  he  made  a  vow  of  perpetual  celibacy :  and  that  he 
\\ould  upon  his  return  to  England,  as  soon  as  he  could  conve- 
niently, settle  his  affairs  for  that  purpose,  and  endeavour  to  spend 
tin-  remainder  of  his  life  in  a  religious  retirement.  But  of  these 
articles  I  do  not  find  sufficient  evidence :  yet  if  the  latter  be  true, 
it  will  account  for  a  very  remarkable  instance  of  self-denial,  which 
will  occur  in  the  future  part  of  his  life. 

While  Mr.  Ferrar  continued  thus  at  Padua,  to  establish  his 
health,  and  pursue  his  studies,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  exer- 
cising his  great  faculty  in  quieting  a  troubled  mind.  For  now  an 
English  gentleman  came  thither,  who  by  the  impious  custom  of 
duelling  had  killed  another,  and  had  fled  from  his  country  to 
a\nid  the  puni.-hment  which  the  laws  adjudge  to  murderers.  He 
was  under  the  deepest  melancholy,  but  concealed  the  cause  of 
his  uneasiness.  At  length,  however,  he  acquainted  Mr.  Ferrar 
\\ith  his  misfortune,  declaring  his  great  contrition,  and  sincere 
repentance ;  and  beseeching  him  to  give  him  counsel  and  com- 
fort. Mr.  Ferrar  by  his  spiritual  consolations,  his  persuasive 
Mients,  and  wonderful  power  over  the  human  mind,  at  length 
made  the  unhappy  sufferer  more  easy  and  composed,  and  con- 
firmed him  in  the  hope  of  forgiveness.  And  this  event  laid  the 


•  [Postscript  to   Mr.   Herbert's   Country  Parson,  F.  P.]     See  Thomas 
Baker's  account  of  Oley,  given  to  Hearne  in  Auu  and  printed  in 

Cflfi  Vindicuf,  vol.  ii.  p.  690. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  143 

foundation  of  a  sincere  and  most  affectionate  friendship  between 
them  b. 

Mr.  Ferrar  thus  passing  his  time  between  Venice  and  Padua  in 
a  course  of  learning  and  virtue,  and  in  the  most  laudable  pursuits, 
he  was  much  sought  after,  and  visited  by  the  English  who  were 
then  also  on  their  travels;  who  were  delighted  with  his  con- 
versation, notwithstanding  that  his  way  of  life  and  manner  of 
thinking  were  very  different  from  their  own  :  and  they  would  often 
ingenuously  confess  that  he  was  certainly  in  the  right  way,  and 
that  they  could  not  but  wish  they  could  live  as  he  lived. 

These  gentlemen  on  their  return  to  England  spoke  of  him  in 
the  highest  terms  of  applause  to  their  respective  families  and 
connections.  The  Italian  merchants  also  and  the  English  factors 
resident  in  different  parts  of  Italy,  with  whom  he  had  transac- 
tions on  money  concerns,  all  wrote  of  him  to  their  correspondents 
in  England,  with  the  warmest  commendations,  considering  him 
as  one  who  had  some  great  object  in  view,  and  would  sometime 
appear  to  the  world  possessed  of  very  extraordinary  talents. 
Thus  his  reputation  became  general :  on  the  exchange,  in  the 
city,  at  court,  and  all  over  the  country  he  was  universally  known 
and  universally  admired. 

Having  now  finished  his  intended  studies,  having  traversed  all 
Italy,  and  become  intimately  acquainted  with  every  place  of  con- 
sequence, being  perfect  master  of  the  Italian  language,  both  for 
writing  and  discourse,  having  an  accurate  knowledge  of  all  their 
laws,  customs,  manners,  doctrines,  and  practices,  civil  and  eccle- 
siastic, and  having  made  the  best  use  of  every  thing  he  had  heard, 
read,  or  seen,  and  being  determined  as  to  his  future  plan  of  con- 
duct, he  resolved  at  last  to  pay  a  visit  to  imperial  Rome.  He 
knew  indeed  before  he  went  thither,  as  much  of  that  celebrated 
city,  both  ancient  and  modern,  as  could  be  learned  from  history, 
and  from  conversation  with  many  persons  of  great  judgment  and 
observation,  who  had  lately  been  there  :  but  he  was  desirous  to 
confirm  what  he  had  learned  by  information  from  others,  by  his 
own  observation.  But  having  been  well  informed  that  since  he 
came  into  Italy,  there  had  been  a  particular  account  of  him  sent 
to  Rome,  of  the  college  of  which  he  was  fellow  in  Cambridge,  of 
his  degrees,  and  his  acquisitions  in  learning,  and  particularly 
that  his  person  had  been  described  in  all  points  to  the  college  of 

b  [This  unfortunate  gentleman  is  the  person  who  in  the  original  MS.  is 
frequently  referred  to  as  Mr.  G ]  Gorton  ? 


144  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Jesuits  there ;  the  manner  also  in  which  he  had  spent  his  time  in 
Italy,  with  the  general  conjecture,  that  he  surely  had  some  farther 
end  in  travelling,  than  other  gentlemen  ordinarily  have  :  all  this 
duly  considered  made  him  keep  his  intention  very  private.  For 
he  foresaw  that  without  great  caution  some  mischief  might  pro- 
bably befal  him.  Changing  his  habit  therefore  for  such  a  dress 
as  he  thought  was  most  proper  for  his  disguise,  and  safety,  he  set 
forward,  concealing  the  time  when,  and  keeping  the  place  from 
whence  he  came  always  unknown  to  all  but  one  trusty  friend  only, 

the  unfortunate  Mr.  G ,  who,  whatever  should  befal  him  in 

that  journey,  might  give  an  account  of  him  to  his  family.  He 
travelled  on  foot,  and  contrived  his  business  so  that  he  came  to 
Rome  on  the  Monday  before  Easter ;  and  during  his  stay  there, 
he  every  day  changed  his  lodgings,  coining  in  late  and  going  out 
early:  and  as  to  his  repast,  such  as  it  was,  he  took  that  al><> 
sometimes  at  one  place,  sometimes  at  another,  and  sometimes  at 
none  at  all.  He  staid  at  Rome  about  ten  days,  and  in  that  time 
he  so  improved  his  opportunities  as  that  he  satisfied  himself  in 
seeing  all  that  he  desired.  But  the  particulars  need  not  be  here 
recited,  as  they  may  be  found  in  many  other  books  upon  this 
subject. 

From  Rome  he  returned  to  Venice,  not  acquainting  any  one 
whore  he  had  been.  At  his  return  he  was  welcomed  home  by 
the  English  gentlemen,  and  all  his  other  acquaintance ;  as  was 
the  custom  with  them  at  other  times,  after  his  other  excursions. 
In  one  of  these,  he  went  to  see  the  chapel  of  Loretto.  From 
thence  he  went  to  Malta,  where  one  of  the  knights  conceiving  a 
particular  friendship  for  him,  at  their  parting  desired  his  accept- 
ance of  one  of  the  rich  crosses  worn  by  the  brethren  of  that 
order,  entreating  him  to  keep  it  for  his  sake ;  and  thus  exchan^in^ 
mutual  good  wishes  and  benedictions,  Mr.  Ferrar  returned  a_ 
to  Venice. 

And  now  intending  at  length  to  leave  Italy,  he  went  from 

Venice  to  Marseilles,  purposing  after  he  had  passed  sufficient 

tiiiM-  in  that  city,  for  visiting  what  was  remarkable  there  and  in 

th'    parts  adjacent,  to  take  ship  there  and  sail  from  thence  to 

in. 

Hut  at  Marseilles  he  fell  dangerously  ill.  being  suddenly  sei/<-d 
with  a  violent  fever,  \\hirli  daily  grew  worse  and  worse.  And 
what  added  to  his  misfortune,  he  knew  no  one  in  the  place,  nor 
liad  h«  an\  of  lii>  lonu.-r  aruuaintanre  with  him.  In  this  dis- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  14.5 

tress  he  sent  for  the  most  celebrated  physician  in  the  city,  and 
trusted  himself  entirely  to  his  care.  He  was  very  regular  in  his 
attendance,  and  was  very  careful  of  him.  His  host  also  and 
hostess  where  he  lodged  shewed  great  tenderness  and  attention 
to  him. 

The  first  day  he  was  taken  ill  he  wrote  to  his  much  loved 
friend  whom  he  had  left  at  Venice,  the  unfortunate  Mr.  G.,  to 
whom  he  had  promised  to  give  information  of  his  arrival  at  Mar- 
seilles. In  this  letter  he  .acquainted  him  that  he  was  beginning 
to  grow  ill,  and  feared  his  illness  would  prove  both  long  and  dan- 
gerous. Nor  was  he  mistaken,  for  his  illness  continued  thirty-four 
days,  and  his  physician  was  for  a  long  time  in  absolute  despair 
of  his  life.  This  made  his  attendants  desirous  to  know  who  he 
was,  which  Mr.  Ferrar  industriously  concealed.  But  one  day,  as 
they  were  looking  amongst  his  things  for  something  he  had  called 
for,  carefully  wrapped  up  in  a  little  box,  was  discovered  the  rich 
cross  which  was  presented  to  him  by  his  friend  the  knight  of 
Malta,  at  his  departure  from  that  island.  At  sight  of  this,  the 
host  and  hostess,  and  the  physician  presently  concluded  that  he 
was  a  knight  of  that  order,  who  was  travelling  unknown,  and 
they  earnestly  entreated  him  no  longer  to  conceal  himself.  Mr. 
Ferrar  in  vain  endeavoured  to  convince  them  of  the  mistake, 
assuring  them  that  he  was  only  a  private  gentleman,  travelling 
for  amusement  and  instruction ;  for  the  more  he  affirmed  this, 
the  more  they  were  confirmed  in  their  own  opinion.  His  disorder 
still  continuing  excessive,  the  physician  had  given  him  up  for  lost. 
But  at  the  very  moment  when  all  hope  was  gone,  a  favourable 
crisis  took  place  ;  and  though  he  was  extremely  weak  and  reduced 
to  the  lowest  degree,  yet  he  soon  appeared  to  be  in  a  fair  way  of 
recovery. 

And  now  word  was  brought  to  him  that  there  was  a  gentleman 
below,  just  arrived  from  Venice,  who  demanded  to  see  him.  They 
who  know  what  true  friendship  is,  need  not  to  be  informed  that 
this  person  could  be  no  other  than  his  dear  and  unfortunate  friend 
Mr.  G.  When  he  came  into  Mr.  Ferrar's  room,  and  beheld  his 
friend  lying  on  the  bed  of  sickness,  so  pale,  weak,  and  reduced, 
he  burst  into  tears.  His  friend  was  equally  affected,  seeing  him 
so  unexpectedly.  They  mutually  embraced,  and  a  long,  and 
affectionately  expressive  silence  ensued :  for  their  hearts  were  so 
full,  that  neither  could  for  some  time  speak  to  the  other.  At 
length  Mr.  Ferrar  told  him  how  welcome  he  was  to  him,  who  but 

VOL.   IV.  J, 


146  NICHOLAS   FERRAR. 

yesterday  expected  never  to  see  him  more.  Mr.  G.  replied,  that 
on  rli.  receipt  of  his  letter  he  became  so  deeply  afflicted.,  that  he 
could  not  rest  day  or  night,  till  he  should  see  him ;  that  if  he 
should  find  him  still  sick,  he  might  abide  with  him  and  take  care 
of  him  :  that  if  he  should  die,  he  might  perform  the  due  honours 
of  burial ;  and  that  if  he  should  recover,  he  might  rejoice  with 
him  on  that  happy  occasion,  and  in  every  respect  shew  him  that 
unfeigned  friendship  which  was  justly  due  to  his  uncommon 
virtue. 

As  a  sincere  and  affectionate  friend  is  perhaps  the  most  effec- 
tual medicine  that  can  be  administered  to  the  sick,  so  by  the  en- 
dearing attentions  of  the  benevolent  Mr.  G.  Mr.  Ferrar  e 
day  advanced  apace  in  his  recovery.  And  when  he  was  thought 
to  be  out  of  danger,  Mr.  G.  said  he  must  at  last  bid  him  farewell, 
and  return  to  Venice.  "  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Ferrar,  "you  shall  now 
return  to  Venice,  but  I  will  return  with  you.  For  as  you  have 
been  so  very  kind  as  to  come  so  far  to  take  care  of  me  when  I 
was  ill,  and  have  likewise  staid  so  long  with  me,  it  is  but  justice, 
and  the  least  return  I  can  make,  to  see  you  safe  back;"  nor 
would  he  take  any  refusal ;  and  so  they  returned  together  to 
Venice.  From  this  place  Mr.  Ferrar  immediately  gave  his  pa- 
rents an  account  of  his  cruel  sickness,  and  recovery  at  Mar- 
seilles, in  a  very  affectionate  letter  bearing  date  April  1616. 

Having  staid  at  Venice  till  he  was  perfectly  recovered,  and  his 
strength  thoroughly  recruited,  he  took  his  last  leave  of  all  his 
friends  and  acquaintance  there;  but  particularly  of  his  dear 
friend  Mr.  G.,  who  at  their  parting  presented  him  with  an  ex- 
cellent and  costly  rapier,  saying  that  perhaps  it  might  be  of 
great  use  to  him  in  his  future  travels,  and  wished  him  to  keep  it 
as  a  testimony  of  his  friendship.  And  now  these  dear  friends 
with  the  warmest  affection  bade  each  other  adieu !  for  in  the 
gulph  of  Venice  a  small  English  vessel  was  ready  to  sail  for 
Spain,  and  Mr.  Ferrar  resolved  to  take  his  passage  in  her,  that 
might  travel  through  Spain,  and  see  that  kingdom,  after 
\\hich  he  proposed  in  like  manner  to  see  France,  and  so  return 

Tin-  >hip  in  which  Mr.  Ferrar  left  Venice,  carried  only  t<  n 
pieces  of  prdnance,  but  was  overloaded,  though  there  were  no 
passengers  but  himself.  They  had  not  been  long  at  sea,  before 
a  large  ship,  a  Turkish  pirate,  gave  them  chace,  and  gained 
speedily  upon  thrm.  Ami  there  bein^  >omi-  'lifference  of  opinion 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  147 

between  the  officers  and  mariners,  whether  they  ought  to  yield, 
or  fight  it  out ;  they  referred  their  doubts  to  Mr.  Ferrar,  who 
had  stood  silent  among  them  attending  to  their  debate.  They 
said,  "  This  young  gentleman  has  a  life  to  lose,  as  well  as  we ; 
let  us  hear  what  he  thinks  of  the  matter."  For  from  his  first 
coming  on  board,  upon  discourse  with  him,  they  had  taken  a 
great  liking  to  him,  perceiving  that  he  had  great  skill  in  maritime 
affairs. 

Mr.  Ferrar  being  thus  applied  to  in  form  for  his  opinion,  reso- 
lutely told  them  that  they  ought  to  fight  it  out,  and  put  their  trust 
in  God.  That  it  was  better  to  die  valiantly,  than  be  carried  into 
slavery.  That  God  could  easily  deliver  them,  and  he  hoped  would 
not  suffer  them  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  enemy.  He  then 
put  them  in  mind  of  the  many  sea  engagements  achieved  by  their 
countrymen,  in  which  the  victory  had  been  gained  against  superior 
numbers.  Thus  encouraged,  his  words  were  so  prevalent,  that 
with  all  speed  they  made  ready  to  defend  themselves,  committing 
their  cause  to  the  protection  of  God.  And  to  shew  that  they 
were  not  deficient  in  English  spirit,  they,  having  the  advantage 
of  the  wind,  and  a  fit  opportunity,  determined  to  give  their  enemy 
a  broadside :  when,  lo  !  just  as  the  master  was  giving  the  word 
to  the  gunner  to  fire,  the  Turkish  ship  to  their  great  astonishment 
fell  off,  and  steered  away  from  them  with  all  the  sail  she  could 
make.  They  soon  perceived  that  this  unexpected  movement  was 
from  the  discovery  of  another  ship,  which  they  supposed  was 
thought  to  be  a  better  booty.  The  Turk  being  gone  they  pro- 
ceeded on  their  voyage,  and  without  any  farther  difficulty  arrived 
at  their  destined  port  in  Spain. 

Soon  after  his  arrival,  Mr.  Ferrar  determined  to  see  Madrid, 
and  the  king's  court,  and  whatever  else  was  worth  notice  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  But  having  spent  some  time  at  Madrid,  he 
had  also  spent  almost  all  the  money  he  had  brought  with  him 
from  Venice.  He  therefore  made  an  enquiry  whether  there 
were  any  bills  of  exchange,  or  letters  for  him,  directed  to  some  of 
the  English  merchants  in  that  city,  but  could  not  hear  of  any ; 
for  he  had  reached  Madrid  long  before  his  father  thought  he 
could  be  there.  In  making  this  enquiry,  he  carried  the  matter 
so,  as  if  it  was  for  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Ferrar,  who,  he 
expected,  would  be  there  about  that  time  :  for  he  was  resolved,  if 
possible,  not  to  discover  himself.  But  it  happened  that  a  Mr. 

L  2 


148  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Wyche,  the  son  of  a  merchant 7,  a  particular  friend  of  Mr.  Ferraris 
father,  was  at  that  time  at  Madrid.  And  he  being  informed  that 
this  young  gentleman  and  stranger  made  frequent  enquiry  after 
one  of  the  name  of  Ferrar,  kept  an  observant  eye  upon  him. 
And  perceiving  something  very  extraordinary  in  his  genteel 
deportment,  in  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit  of  his  conversation,  and 
his  great  knowledge  in  languages,  he  concluded  him  to  be  some 
person  of  high  fashion,  who  was  desirous  to  travel  unknown  :  and 
thereupon,  both  himself,  and  all  the  English  established  there, 
made  him  an  offer  of  all  the  civilities  in  their  power. 

But  as  he  was  now  at  a  stand  how  to  proceed,  and  what  course 
to  take  in  order  to  pass  through  Spain,  and  then  through  France 
home,  and  being  uneasy  that  no  bills  of  exchange  were  come  for 
such  a  one  as  he  enquired  after,  he  suddenly  determined  to  travel 
no  farther  at  present ;  but  immediately  to  make  the  best  of  his 
way  to  England,  and  in  order  to  this,  to  travel  on  foot  as  well  as 
he  could  to  St.  Sebastian's,  and  there  take  ship  for  his  native 
country. 

In  preparation  for  this  expedition,  as  he  still  resolved,  if  pos- 
sible, to  keep  himself  unknown,  he  privately  sold  his  cloak,  and 
some  jewels  which  he  had  by  him,  to  supply  his  present  occasions, 
and  provide  for  his  future  wants  in  his  journey.  At  quitting 
Madrid  he  took  leave  of  Mr.  Wyche,  and  the  other  English 
merchants,  with  acknowledgments  of  their  many  civilities  to  him. 
At  which  time  Mr.  Wyche  made  him  an  offer  of  what  money  he 
might  want,  which  Mr.  Ferrar  politely  declined. 

And  now  he  set  forward  on  foot,  with  the  rich  rapier  in  his  hand, 
presented  to  him  by  his  dear  friend  Mr.  G.,  without  a  cloak,  in 
his  doublet  and  cassock.  And  with  many  a  weary  step,  and  very 
few  accommodations,  he  pursued  his  journey,  till  he  found  his 
feet  after  a  few  days'  travelling  on  the  hot  sands  of  that  country 
t"  Ix'come  quite  wearied,  and  the  skin  to  come  off,  so  that  it  was 
excessively  painful  to  him  to  proceed.  One  night  his  hostess 
where  he  lodged,  seeing  he  was  a  young  foot  traveller,  and  that 
he  suffered  greatly  from  the  torment  of  his  feet,  prescribed  to 
him  to  bathe  and  steep  his  feet  for  a  considerable  time  in  a  bowl 

7  Son  of  a  merchant.']  Richard  Wyche,  of  an  old  Cheshire  family,  was  a 
merchant  of  high  note  in  London.  He  had  twelve  sons,  one  of  whom,  Peter, 
(afterwards  sir  Peter  Wyche,  for  many  years  ambassador  at  Constantinople), 
is  probably  the  person  here  mentioned. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  149 

of  sack  which  she  brought  for  that  purpose.  This  gave  him 
immediate  ease,  and  enabled  him  to  proceed  comfortably  on  his 
journey  the  next  morning,  and  by  future  applications  prevented 
all  future  inconveniences  of  that  sort. 

His  reason  for  travelling  always  with  his  rapier  in  his  hand, 
was  not  only  to  be  instantly  on  his  defence  in  case  of  any 
sudden  attack,  but  that  he  might  also  pass  the  more  readily  in 
all  places  as  a  young  gentleman  soldier,  going  towards  Flanders 
to  serve  the  king  of  Spain,  under  Spinola 8.  And  upon  the  way 
at  all  fit  times,  and  places,  as  he  travelled,  he  seemed  to  be  very 
inquisitive  about  Spinola,  and  what  he  was  doing  in  Flanders  ;  so 
that  all  with  whom  he  had  any  discourse  of  this  sort  took  him 
for  an  Italian.  But  at  one  place  where  he  passed  the  night,  the 
governor  being  informed  of  a  stranger  who  lodged  in  the  town, 
examined  him  strictly  in  many  particulars.  And  Mr.  Ferrar 
made  him  such  wary  answers,  that  he  was  at  a  loss  what  farther 
to  say  to  him.  At  last,  casting  his  eyes  upon  the  rapier,  he  told 
him  that  costly  rapier  was  unbefitting  him,  for  he  knew  not  how 
he  came  by  it,  and  therefore  he  would  have  it  from  him.  Mr. 
Ferrar  told  him  he  must  pardon  him  in  not  parting  with  his 
weapon,  which  a  soldier  ought  to  preserve  as  his  life  ;  adding  that 
it  was  given  him  by  a  dear  and  worthy  friend,  who  enjoined  him 
to  keep  it,  and  that  he  was  determined  so  to  do.  But  this  did 
not  satisfy  the  governor,  who  told  him  that  stout  as  he  was  he 
should  deliver  the  rapier  to  him  before  he  departed,  or  he  would 
make  him  repent  his  refusal.  Mr.  Ferrar  replied,  that  he  hoped 
there  was  more  justice  to  be  found  every  where  in  Spain,  than  to 
take  by  force  an  innocent  traveller's  weapon  from  him.  That  he 
had  not  in  any  thing  offended  Caesar,  or  his  laws,  or  the  customs 
of  his  country  since  he  was  in  it,  and  that  he  would  be  cautious 
not  to  do  so  during  the  remainder  of  his  stay.  That  he  came 
very  lately  from  the  king's  court,  and  that  he  had  friends  there 
who  would  not  suffer  him  to  receive  any  wrong.  From  this  wise 
and  resolute  answer,  his  determined  behaviour,  and  a  style  of 
language  so  far  above  his  outward  appearance,  the  standers-by 
concluded  him  to  be  some  other  man  than  his  habit  declared,  and 
advised  the  governor  to  meddle  no  more  with  him  about  the 


8  Under  Spinola.']  The  marquis  Ambrogio  Spinola,  the  celebrated  com- 
mander of  the  Spanish  forces  in  the  war  which  broke  out  in  1614,  caused  by 
the  disputed  succession  to  the  duchies  of  Juliers  and  Cleves. 


150  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

rapier.  Who,  then  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Ferrar,  said, 
41  Well,  I  perceive  you  are  a  young  Italian  gentleman,  and  enquire 
after  our  affairs  in  Flanders,  and  after  the  marquis  Spinola  your 
countryman,  to  whom  I  understand  you  are  going.  I  like  well 
your  weapon,  which  in  truth  is  most  handsome  and  soldierlike ;" 
and  so  he  dismissed  him  to  proceed  on  his  journey. 

While  Mr.  Ferrar  travelled  thus  alone  over  a  great  part  of 
Spain,  he  walked  once  half  a  day  without  seeing  any  body,  and 
was  therefore  obliged  to  guess  at  his  way,  by  the  best  observation 
he  could  make,  to  proceed  straight  forward  from  the  place  where 
he  had  lodged  the  night  before.  A  nd  it  being  now  near  evening, 
he  perceived  tliat  the  road  he  was  in  led  him  to  a  very  high  hill, 
which  at  length  he  with  no  small  pains  and  difficulty  ascended  : 
and  being  arrived  at  the  top,  he  there  found  a  round  plat  of  level 
ground,  of  considerable  magnitude,  encompassed  entirely  with 
rocks  of  a  prodigious  height,  and  extremely  steep  on  every  side, 
neither  could  he  discern  any  pathway,  except  that  by  which  he 
had  ascended,  to  lead  him  out  from  this  rocky  enclosure,  and 
thereby  encourage  him  to  go  forward. 

At  the  sight  of  this  he  was  much  troubled,  thinking  he  had 
wholly  mistaken  the  hill  which  he  had  been  directed  to  ascend, 
and  that  he  must  at  last  take  up  his  unhoused  lodging  there  that 
night.  Being  thus  perplexed,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do,  he 
devoutly  knelt  down,  and  prayed  to  God  to  protect  and  direct 
him.  Then  examining  with  careful  anxiety  all  parts,  to  see  if  he 
could  find  any  way  to  help  him  forward  in  his  journey,  for  it  was 
too  late  to  think  of  returning,  he  espied  a  large  black  hog  come 
hastily  running  out  from  a  narrow  crevice  or  cleft  in  the  rock, 
and  immediately  disappear  again.  But  he  with  his  eyes  observed, 
and  with  his  feet  made  all  possible  haste  to  follow  and  see  what 
was  become  of  the  beast.  For  he  conceived  hopes  that  it  might 
be  some  tame  animal,  now  in  the  evening  returning  to  its  home, 
and  consequently  that  possibly  there  was  some  dwelling-house 
not  far  off.  Presently  he  saw  the  same  creature  again,  now 
running  at  the  further  end  of  the  level  plain  down  the  side  oi 
hill.  And,  coming  to  the  spot,  he  perceived  a  hollow,  covered 
passage,  cut  into  the  solid  rock,  and  at  some  distance  v.ithin  this 
hollow,  a  sort  of  window  or  air-hole,  to  give  light  and  air  to  this 
Mjl.r. -i -ram  an  passage.  Resolving  therefore  to  follow  the  animal 
which  h<  jilaiiil\  MLW  to  eater  this  cavity,  after  some  time,  and 
very  caution  found  a  turning  which  - 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  151 

step  more  and  more  dark.  Yet  stopping  a  little  while,  listening, 
and  still  looking  and  venturing  slowly  more  forward,  he  discerned, 
as  he  thought,  a  glimmering  of  more  light  at  a  distance.  So  he 
went  on,  and  found  it  to  be  another  window  or  air-hole,  cut 
like  the  former  through  the  solid  rock  to  give  farther  light  to  the 
subterranean  passage.  Thus  proceeding  onwards,  in  the  same 
manner,  and  under  the  same  disagreeable  circumstances,  he  at 
length  plainly  perceived  that  this  passage  was  a  way  to  some  sub- 
terranean habitation,  cut  by  human  labour  into  the  heart  of  the 
rock.  Thereupon  listening  and  proceeding  with  caution,  he 
fancied  that  he  heard  the  voices  of  people  talking  at  no  great 
distance.  Eesolving  therefore  to  go  forward  again,  he  found  at 
length  that  there  was  indeed  a  sort  of  house  in  the  very  substance 
of  the  rock,  and  that  it  was  a  harbour,  or  place  of  entertainment 
for  passengers  who  travelled  that  way. 

Coming  into  the  room  he  saluted  the  host,  and  the  people  who 
were  there ;  and  sitting  down  he  called  for  bread  and  wine,  and 
then  began  to  discourse  with  them  how  hard  it  was  to  find  the 
way  to  them ;  which,  they  said,  to  a  stranger,  must  be  indeed 
extremely  difficult,  but  was  not  so  to  those  who  were  acquainted 
with  the  turns  and  windings  of  that  subterraneous  labyrinth.  He 
then  called  for  more  wine  to  wash  and  bathe  his  feet.  Which 
done,  after  some  communication  of  ordinary  matters,  such  as 
travellers  use  with  their  hosts,  he  made  strict  observation  of  the 
disposition  and  manners  of  the  people  in  the  house,  and  found 
great  reason  not  very  well  to  like  them ;  but  now  there  was  no 
remedy. 

As  for  the  people,  they  thought  him  to  be  a  young  Italian 
soldier,  going  to  the  marquis  Spinola.  For  that  way  his  conver- 
sation much  tended,  and  shewed  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with 
all  the  military  transactions  in  Flanders  with  the  Hollanders.  At 
length  he  told  them  that  he  was  very  weary  and  very  sleepy,  and, 
if  they  pleased,  would  lie  down  upon  a  bench,  and  take  some  rest. 
For  that,  he  pretended,  was  his  custom  when  he  travelled,  in 
order  to  inure  himself  to  hardships. 

Thereupon  they  shewed  him  into  another  room  within  the 
cavern ;  and  Mr.  Ferrar,  not  laying  his  rapier  away,  but  keeping 
it  close  to  him,  lay  down  to  sleep.  But  he  was  scarce  laid  down, 
when  two  lusty,  ruffian-looking  fellows  and  a  young  woman  came 
into  the  room.  Mr.  Ferrar  heard  and  saw  them,  but  lay  still,  as 
if  he  was  fast  asleep.  The  men  then  demanded  of  the  people  of 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

the  house,  "  Who  is  this  here,  who  lies  sleeping  upon  the  bench  2" 
they  answered,  u  We  know  not ;  he  is  lately  come  in  very  weary, 
and  says  he  is  a  young  Italian  soldier,  who  is  going  into  Flanders, 
to  serve  under  Spinola."  And  then  they  entered  into  some  con- 
versation in  a  very  low  voice,  which  Mr.  Ferrar  could  not  hear. 

After  this  they  sat  down  at  a  table  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  and  in  a  bold  manner  began  to  call  for  various  things,  and 
in  drinking  their  wine  they  discoursed  of  different  matters,  and  at 
length  grew  very  merry.  But  at  last  one  of  the  fellows  went  out, 
and  after  a  short  time  came  in  again,  and  then  after  some  slight 
and  foolish  words  began  to  quarrel  with  the  woman.  She  gave 
him  as  cross  words  in  return,  and  their  other  companion  taking 
her  part,  from  words  they  came  to  blows,  and  began  to  lay  hands 
on  the  woman.  Whereupon  she  crying  out,  the  host  came  run- 
ning in,  but  instead  of  being  appeased  by  him,  they  grew  more 
and  more  fierce.  All  this  Mr.  Ferrar  heard  and  saw,  but 
appeared  as  if  he  was  in  a  sound  sleep,  and  kept  his  hand  fast 
upon  his  rapier.  They  called  to  him  for  help,  but  he  regarded 
not  their  brawling,  still  making  as  if  he  was  dead  asleep.  There- 
fore as  he  continued  to  lie  still,  and  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of 
them,  their  contention  ceased,  and  they  all  went  out  of  the  room 
in  very  friendly  terms  together. 

Mr.  Ferrar  saw  all  this  was  done  to  provoke  him  to  rise,  and 
take  one  part  or  other,  that  so  they  might  have  quarrelled  with 
him,  and  carried  into  execution  some  bad  design  against  him.  But 
he  heard  no  more  of  them ;  and  not  being  able  to  sleep,  he  rose 
at  day-break,  and  made  haste  away,  giving  God  thanks  for  his 
escape  out  of  their  hands. 

After  his  escape  from  this  subterranean  abode,  having  travelled 
five  hundred  miles  in  Spain,  in  the  heat  of  summer,  alone,  and  on 
foot,  making  his  observations  on  the  country,  its  curiosities,  and 
productions,  and  on  the  disposition  and  manners  of  the  people, 
he  at  length  arrived  safely  at  St.  Sebastian's.  Here  he  found  a 
ship  ready  to  sail  for  England,  but  waiting  for  a  fair  wind.  In 
this  interval  he  received  great  civilities  from  the  captain  of  the 
vessel,  and  from  all  the  English  settled  at  that  place.  At  len.Lfth 
the  wind  came  fair,  and  after  a  few  days1  happy  passage  he  landed 
at  Dover,  \\liere  he  returned  his  sincere  thanks  to  God  for  bring- 
ing him  in  health  and  safety  to  his  native  country. 

\\e  are  now  no  longer  to  consider  Mr.  Ferrar  as  a  young  gen- 
tlcman  travelling  for  amusement  and  instruction,  displaying  every 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  153 

where  uncommon  abilities,  illustrious  virtue,  and  indefatigable 
industry,  exciting  the  highest  admiration,  and  receiving  in  every 
country  universal  applause ;  but  we  shall  now  see  him  the  man  of 
business,  applying,  with  unwearied  attention,  the  great  talents  with 
which  God  had  blessed  him,  to  important  negotiations  both  of  a 
private  and  a  public  nature. 

His  return  was  at  a  very  critical  time.  For  one  branch  of  his 
family  was  in  great  distress,  and  stood  in  need  of  his  care  and 
wisdom.  His  brother  John  Ferrar  was  likewise  entered  into 
a  great  public  employment,  by  which  he  became  engaged  in 
many  affairs  which  required  his  assistance.  For  sir  Edwyn 
Sandys  being  chosen  governor  of  the  Virginia  company,  Mr. 
John  Ferrar  was  made  king's  counsel  for  that  plantation.  He 
therefore  left  the  management  of  his  concerns  in  merchandise  to 
his  friends  and  partners.  And  the  Virginia  courts  after  this  were 
kept  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Ferrar  the  father :  who  from  his  singu- 
lar affection  for  that  honourable  company,  himself  being  one  of 
the  first  adventurers  of  that  plantation  and  the  Somers  Islands 9, 
allowed  them  the  use  of  his  great  hall,  and  other  best  rooms  of 
his  house  to  hold  their  weekly  and  daily  meetings.  Many  other 
things  both  of  public  and  private  concernment,  now  on  foot, 
seemed  equally  to  call  for  the  presence  and  assistance  of  Mr.  N. 
Ferrar.  For  (not  to  speak  of  public  matters)  to  all  human 
appearance,  without  his  advice,  diligence,  and  great  wisdom  in 
managing  the  private  affairs  of  his  family  at  this  critical  juncture, 
there  had  been  great  danger  not  only  of  much  loss  in  many 
particulars,  but  even  of  the  overthrow  and  ruin  of  his  elder 
brother. 

Immediately  after  his  arrival  at  Dover  Mr.  Ferrar  rode  post  to 
London  ;  and  finding  the  door  of  his  fathers  house  open,  he  en- 
tered with  his  rich  rapier  at  his  side,  arrayed  only  in  his  cassock 
and  doublet,  and  just  in  the  manner  as  he  had  travelled  from 
Madrid  to  St.  Sebastian's. 

The  meeting  between  the  worthy  parents  and  their  beloved  son, 
whom  they  had  not  seen  for  five  years,  and  whom  they  had  ex- 
pected never  to  have  seen  again,  was  mutually  affectionate  and 

9  Somers  Islands.']  The  Bermudas,  called  also  the  Somers  Islands,  in  honour 
of  sir  George  Somers,  one  of  the  Virginia  Company,  to  whom  they  belonged. 
The  family  name  was  corrupted  by  ignorant  chartographers  into  Summer 
Islands,  a  blunder  which  the  French  have  made  tenfold  more  absurd  by  call- 
ing them  the  Isles  de  VEtt. 


154  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

endearing  in  the  highest  degree,  and  may  more  easily  be  imagined 
than  described.  This  his  unexpected  and  much  wished  for  return 
was  in  the  year  1618;  he  himself  being  then  twenty-six,  his 
father  seventy-two,  and  his  mother  sixty-two  years  of  age. 

He  soon  shewed  himself  upon  the  Exchange,  and  in  person  re- 
turned his  thanks  to  those  merchants  by  whose  factors  he  had 
received  his  remittances,  and  many  local  civilities.  He  was  now 
much  noticed  both  for  the  beauty  of  his  person,  and  for  his 
many  eminent  qualities:  and  all  his  friends  soon  found  that  the 
accounts  they  had  received  of  his  worth  and  wisdom  from  abroad 
had  not  been  exaggerated,  but  that  his  virtues  and  his  accom- 
plishments surpassed  all  report  and  all  expectation. 

In  his  travels  through  Holland,  Germany,  Italy,  and  Spain, 
Mr.  Ferrar  purchased  many  rare  articles  of  curiosity,  many 
scarce  and  valuable  books,  and  learned  treatises  in  the  languages 
of  those  different  countries.  In  collecting  which  he  certainly  had 
a  principal  eye  to  those  which  treated  the  subjects  of  a  spiritual 
life,  devotion,  and  religious  retirement.  He  bought  also  a  very 
great  number  of  prints  engraved  by  the  best  masters  of  that 
time ;  all  relative  to  historical  passages  of  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
tament. Indeed  he  let  nothing  of  this  sort  that  was  valuable 
escape  him.  And  this  great  treasure  of  rarities,  books,  and 
prints,  upon  his  return  home,  he  had  the  satisfaction  to  find  were 
safely  arrived  there  before  him. 

Very  little  indeed  of  this  treasure  is  now  remaining.  The 
Ferrar  family  being  firm  in  their  loyalty  to  the  king,  their  house 
at  Gidding  was  plundered  in  the  civil  wars ;  and  in  a  wanton  de- 
vastation, all  these  things  perished,  except  some  of  the  prints,  not 
of  great  value,  still  in  possession  of  the  editor. 

It  now  comes  in  the  order  of  time  to  speak  of  the  great  hand 
which  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  had,  immediately  after  his  return,  in  the 
management  of  the  affairs  of  the  Virginia  company;  in  which. 
by  his  prudent  conduct,  he  got  through  many  and  great  diffi- 
culties with  high  credit  and  reputation.  From  this  relation  it 
will  appear  what  great  power  Gondomar f  the  Spanish  ambassador 
thru  had  in  England;  and  how  by  his  extraordinary  craft  and 

1  Gondomar.]  Don  Diego  Sarmiento  de  Acuna,  Conde  de  Gondomar.     It 

is  needless  to  say  here  any  thing  of  his  great  influence  over  James.     \\  I 

have  seen  (p.  83)  that  during  all  the  course  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  she  would 

hold  no  dip'.HiMtir  ,  with  Spain.     Elizabeth  and  Philip  held  each 

id's  point. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  155 

various  intrigues  he  in  the  end  wrought  upon  a  weak  prince  to 
suppress  one  of  the  most  flourishing  companies  for  commerce  in 
England.  And  it  may  possibly  give  the  reader  some  satisfaction 
to  see  some  of  his  subtle  proceedings  here  unravelled ;  as  this 
affair  is  hardly  touched  by  any  other  author  2. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Ferrar's  return,  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  who  had 
heard  a  high  character  of  him  from  many  who  had  known  him  in 
Italy,  sought  his  acquaintance ;  and  being  exceedingly  taken  with 
his  great  abilities,  took  the  first  opportunity  to  make  him  known 
to  the  earl  of  Southampton,  and  the  other  principal  members  of 
the  Virginia  company.  In  a  very  little  time  he  was  made  one  of 
a  particular  committee  in  some  business  of  great  importance ; 
whereby  the  company  having  sufficient  proof  of  his  extraordinary 
abilities,  at  the  next  general  court  it  was  proposed  and  agreed 
that  he  should  be  king^s  counsel 3  for  the  Virginia  plantation  in 
the  place  of  his  brother  John,  who  was  then  made  the  deputy 
governor.  And  when  his  name,  according  to  custom,  was  entered 
in  the  lord  chamberlain's  book,  sir  Edwyn  Sandys  took  care  to 
acquaint  that  lord  with  his  uncommon  worth ;  which  indeed  daily 
more  and  more  appeared  in  every  thing  he  undertook  :  and  as  he 
wanted  no  ability,  so  he  spared  no  diligence  in  ordering  all  their 
affairs  of  consequence.  And  thus  he  became  deeply  engaged  in 
cares  of  a  public  nature.  Yet  his  own  inclinations  at  his  return 
led  him  rather  to  think  of  settling  himself  again  at  Cambridge, 
to  which  he  was  the  more  induced,  as  he  still  held  the  physic 
fellowship  in  Clare  Hall.  But  this  he  now  saw  could  not  be  done. 
Besides,  his  parents,  now  grown  old,  requested  their  beloved  son 
to  remain  with  them.  Therefore  all  he  could  obtain  in  this  re- 
spect from  them,  and  from  his  business,  was  the  liberty  now  and 
then  to  pass  a  few  days  with  his  old  acquaintance  and  friends  still 
remaining  in  Cambridge. 

At  this  time,  J619,  Mr.  Henry  Briggs,  the  celebrated  mathe- 
matician and  reader  of  Geometry  at  Gresham  college,  and  one  of 
the  Virginia  company,  being  about  to  leave  London,  and  settle  at 

2  By  any  other  author.']  [This  was  said  about  the  year  1654.] 

3  King's  counsel.']  It  is  very  probable  that,  in  this  capacity,  Nicholas  Ferrar 
had  more  than  a  share  in  drawing  up  the  following  work,  which  is  very  rare, 
but  of  which  a  copy  is  preserved  in  the  British  Museum.     "  A  Declaration 
of  the  State  of  the  Colony  and  Affaires  in  Virginia,  with  the  Names  of  the  Ad- 
venturers and  Summes  adventured  in  that  Action.     By  His  Maiesties  Counseil 
for  Virginia,  22  Junii,  1620."    4to. 


156  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Oxford  as  Savilian  professor  there,  recommended  it  to  the  Mer- 
cers' company,  who  had  the  gift  of  that  professorship,  that  they 
should  by  all  means  offer  the  place  to  Mr.  Ferrar  upon  his  own 
terms,  saying,  that  he  was  the  ablest  proficient  he  knew  in  that 
science.  The  offer  was  made  accordingly,  which  he  modestly 
declined,  saying  his  friend  Mr.  Briggs  was  much  mistaken  in  him, 
and  that  his  affection  and  goodness  to  him  had  misled  his  judg- 
ment. He  therefore  prayed  them  to  appoint  some  more  worthy 
person ;  but  that  for  himself  though  he  declined  the  intended 
honour,  he  would  always  be  ready  to  serve  the  city  of  London, 
and  the  magnificent  foundation  of  sir  Thomas  Gresham,  to  the 
utmost  of  his  power. 

While  sir  Edwyn  Sandys  continued  governor,  the  reputation 
of  the  Virginia  company  rose  very  high  under  his  prudent  ma- 
nagement. But  having  now  served  his  year,  and  being  by  the 
general  voice  intended  to  have  been  elected  again,  by  some  secret 
power  at  court,  all  the  measures  were  broken  that  had  been  before 
taken  for  that  purpose. 

It  was  appointed  by  the  charter  of  the  company  that  there 
should  be  every  year  in  Easter  term  a  new  election  of  a  treasurer 
or  governor,  and  a  deputy,  and  that  no  man  should  hold  either  of 
those  places  more  than  three  years.  This  election  was  now 
intended  to  be  made  by  ballot,  a  method  introduced  by  sir  Ed- 
wyn Sandys,  as  most  likely  to  secure  a  free  election.  A  general 
court  day  being  appointed,  and  the  day  and  hour  of  election  being 
come,  there  were  assembled  near  upon  twenty  great  peers  of  the 
land  ;  near  a  hundred  of  the  most  eminent  knights  of  the  king- 
dom ;  of  gallant  gentlemen  many  colonels  and  captains,  and 
renowned  lawyers  near  a  hundred  more ;  and  of  the  most  worthy 
citizens  a  very  respectable  assembly.  So  that  the  court  consisted 
of  near  five  hundred  persons  of  several  ranks,  and  quality. 
Every  thing  being  prepared,  the  three  persons  who  were  to  be 
candidates  for  the  place  of  governor  were  now  to  be  named  by  tin- 
company.  The  three  persons  being  agreed  upon,  the  name  of 
sir  Kdwyn  Sandys  was  first  set  up,  and  as  this  was  doing,  a  lord 
of  the  bed-chamber  and  another  courtier  stood  up,  and  declared 
to  the  court  that  it  was  the  king's  pleasure  not  to  have  sir  Edwyn 
lys  chosen ;  and  because  he  would  not  infringe  their  right  of 
election,  he  would  nominate  three  persons,  and  permit  the  com- 
pany to  choose  one  of  them. 

At  this  unexpected  message  there  was  for  a  considerable  time 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  157 

a  deep  silence,  every  man  present  standing  in  amazement  at  this 
violent  invasion  of  their  rights,  this  breach  of  their  charter,  and 
stretch  of  tyrannic  power.  At  length  some  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  hall  stood  up,  and  prayed  that  the  courtiers  having  delivered 
their  message,  and  consequently  having  nothing  more  to  say, 
might  withdraw,  till  the  company  had  resolved  what  to  do. 

The  earl  of  Southampton  (Henry  Wriothesley)  then  stood  up 
and  said,  "  For  my  part,  gentlemen,  I  like  not  this  motion  :  let 
the  noble  gentlemen  if  they  please  keep  their  places,  and  sit  and 
hear  the  opinions  of  the  company,  that  so  they  may  be  both  ear 
and  eye  witnesses  of  our  actions,  and  words,  and  may  themselves 
by  these  means  truly  inform  his  majesty  of  our  fair  and  justifia- 
ble way  of  proceeding  in  this  weighty  business :  a  business  of  the 
highest  concernment  both  in  respect  of  his  majesty,  and  in  respect 
of  the  company.  In  respect  of  his  majesty,  whom  we  know  to 
be  so  just  a  king,  that  he  may  understand  what  privileges  he  hath 
granted  us  by  his  letters  patent,  under  the  great  seal  of  England : 
on  the  credit  and  authority  of  which  letters,  we  have  advanced 
and  adventured  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  our  own  estates  : 
and  in  respect  of  the  company,  who  have  gained  so  hopeful  a 
country,  which  they  have  bought,  and  compounded  for  with  the 
natives,  and  which  when  once  well  peopled  by  English  colonies, 
will  find  full  employment  for  all  needy  people  in  this  land,  who 
now  begin  to  swarm  in  this  blessed  time  of  peace  under  his  ma- 
jesty's happy  reign  ;  will  provide  estates  likewise  for  all  the 
younger  brothers,  gentlemen  of  this  kingdom ;  and  also  a  ready 
and  lasting  supply  to  this  nation  of  those  commodities  which  in 
our  present  condition  we  are  fain  to  fetch  from  foreign  nations, 
from  doubtful  friends,  yea  from  heathen  princes.  These  circum- 
stances, I  say,  fairly  considered,  make  this  a  business  of  so  great 
concernment,  that  it  can  never  be  too  solemnly,  too  thoroughly, 
or  too  publicly  examined." 

Lord  Southampton  having  thus  spoken  sat  down,  and  after 
some  silence  sir  Laurence  Hyde,  the  learned  lawyer,  next  rose 
up  and  said,  "  May  it  please  this  honourable  society,  I  for  my 
part  not  only  agree  to  that  motion  now  made  by  the  noble  earl 
who  spoke  last,  but  also  desire  the  company  not  only  to  permit, 
but  even  to  intreat  these  worthy  messengers  of  the  king  to  stay 
in  our  court,  and  I  will  be  thus  farther  bold  to  break  the  ice, 
and  to  give  you  my  opinion  that  the  first  step  we  ought  to  take 
in  this  serious  business  now  in  hand  should  be  to  cause  the 


158  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

patent,  as  the  foundation  of  all  our  proceedings,  to  be  here  imme- 
diately produced,  and  read,  before  this  honourable  assembly,  and 
these  worthy  gentlemen  the  king's  messengers.  And  then  both 
we  and  they  shall  all  soon  be  satisfied  in  the  extent  of  our  pri- 
vileges, and  in  the  strength  of  his  majesty's  grant,  which  he  hath 
made  to  us  under  the  great  seal  of  England,  and  under  the  hand 
and  honour  of  a  king." 

Thereupon,  all  instantly  cried  out,  uThe  patent !  The  patent ! 
God  save  the  king."  The  patent  was  then  openly  and  distinctly 
read  by  the  secretary. 

After  which  sir  Laurence  Hyde  stood  up  again  and  said, 
"Gentlemen,  I  pray  you  all  to  observe  well  the  words  of  the 
patent  in  the  point  of  electing  a  governor.  You  see  it  is  thereby 
left  to  your  own  free  choice.  This  I  take  it  is  so  very  plain  and 
evident  that  we  shall  not  need  to  say  any  thing  more  to  it.  And 
no  doubt  these  gentlemen,  when  we  shall  have  done  our  duty, 
and  they  depart,  will  give  his  majesty  a  just  information  of  tin- 
case,  and  undeceive  him  in  the  unjust  misrepresentations  which 
have  been  given  him  in  this  point." 

The  rest  of  the  many  lawyers  who  were  there  concurred  in 
opinion  with  sir  Laurence  Hyde,  and  the  court  voted  that  they 
should  now  immediately  proceed  to  election.  When  a  friend  of 
sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  sir  Robert  Phillips,  who  sat  behind  him,  and 
to  whom  sir  Edwyn  had  whispered,  stood  up  and  craved  of  them 
before  they  proceeded,  to  hear  him  a  word,  or  two,  and  then  said. 

u  I  shall  consent  that  we  go  to  an  election  out  of  hand,  because 
it  is  the  business  of  the  day,  and  if  we  do  it  not  now,  we  may 
thereby  in  my  opinion  forfeit  our  patent;  and  also  that  we  in.iv 
liy  so  doing  shew  our  duty  to  the  king,  in  order  to  satisfy  him  in 
all  that  we  may  :  which,  as  I  am  instructed  by  this  worthy  gen- 
tleman your  late  governor,  may  be  done,  if  you  will  out  of  your 
own  judgments,  at  present  forbear  to  set  up  his  name  (whom  I 
perceive  you  all  think  and  know  most  worthy  to  be  continued  in 
that  office)  and  put  up  two  or  three  names  of  the  persons  reomn- 
niendrd  l.y  his  majesty.  And  let  these  managers  tlicm>«  l\c>.  if 
they  think  fit,  nominate  which  two  they  please.  And  in  order  in 
some  degree  to  preserve  your  own  privileges,  do  you  then  name  a 
third  person.  And  then  let  all  these  three  names  be  set  upon 
thr  balloting  box,  and  so  go  to  the  election  in  (Jod's  nann-.  and 
li-t  hi-,  \\ill  In-  don.-." 

Thriviipon  with  a   <n-n<-ral   acclamation,  not   one  WMC6   a-^ain-t 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  159 

it,  the  whole  court  cried  out  "  Southampton !  Southampton !" 
At  which  my  lord  of  Southampton  rose  up  to  speak.  But  they 
again  cried  out,  "The  time  is  almost  past,  we  most  humbly 
beseech  your  lordship  not  to  interrupt  our  proceedings." 

The  king's  messengers  then  said,  they  must  confess  that  the 
company  proceeded  wisely ;  and  that  if  they  had  the  nomination 
of  two  out  of  three,  as  sir  Robert  Phillips  proposed,  they  doubted 
not  but  his  majesty  would  be  satisfied.  For  as  sir  Edwyn  Sandys 
had  wisely  waved  his  interest,  if  the  king  desired  no  more  than 
that  he  might  not  be  chosen,  the  course  proposed  to  be  taken 
was  likely  to  please  him.  And  so  they  proceeded  to  the  ballot ; 
when  of  the  two  persons  nominated  by  the  king's  messengers,  one 
of  them  had  only  one  ball,  and  the  other  but  two.  The  earl  of 
Southampton  had  all  the  rest.  Lord  Southampton  then  took 
the  chair,  and  they  proceeded  to  the  choice  of  a  deputy,  when  Mr. 
John  Ferrar  was  chosen  by  the  same  majority ;  of  that  large 
company,  consisting  of  near  five  hundred  persons,  only  three 
dissenting.  And  thus  began  the  year  1620. 

The  earl  of  Southampton,  now  elected  governor  of  the  Virginia 
company,  had  a  particular  friendship  with  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and 
took  this  office  conditionally  that  his  friend  should  continue  his 
advice  and  assistance  in  the  business  of  the  company.  So  that 
there  were  now  three  very  able  men  engaged,  lord  Southampton, 
sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar.  Lord  Southampton 
celebrated  for  wisdom,  eloquence,  and  sweet  deportment ;  sir 
Edwyn  Sandys  for  great  knowledge,  and  integrity ;  and  Nicholas 
Ferrar  for  wonderful  abilities,  unwearied  diligence,  and  the 
strictest  virtue. 

The  latter  was  now  fully  employed  in  drawing  up  instructions 
concerning  all  the  various  business  respecting  the  plantation,  in 
writing  all  letters  of  advice  to  the  colony  in  Virginia,  and  in 
being  constantly  one  in  every  committee.  Which  instructions 
and  letters  being  always  read  in  the  open  courts,  gained  him 
universal  approbation.  The  civilians,  the  common  lawyers,  the 
divines,  (of  which  last  dean  Williams,  afterwards  bishop  of  Lin- 
coln4, was  one)  who  attended  these  courts,  when  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Ferrar's  performances,  all  spoke  of  him  in  highest  terms  of 
commendation.  The  merchants  and  tradesmen,  when  he  had 

4  Bishop  of  Lincoln^]  John  Williams,  afterwards  lord  keeper  and  archbishop 
of  York,  of  whom  see  more  in  the  Life  of  Bishop  Hall. 


160  NICHOLAS   FERRAR. 

occasion  to  speak  of  their  matters,  even  the  sea  officers,  and 
mariners,  when  he  gave  directions  about  the  victualling  and  order- 
ing the  ships  or  other  naval  affairs,  all  were  in  the  highest  admi- 
ration of  his  abilities  and  accurate  knowledge  of  every  thing 
relating  to  their  respective  professions.  And  now  under  the 
management  and  direction  of  lord  Southampton,  sir  Edwyn 
Sandys,  and  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  affairs  of  the  Virginia  plan- 
tation were  soon  in  the  most  flourishing  situation. 

At  this  time  there  was  in  London  a  Mr.  Copeland,  a  minister 
in  the  Somers  Islands,  who  contracted  a  great  intimacy  with 
Mr.  Ferrar.  He  was  a  worthy  man,  and  very  zealous  for  the 
conversion  of  the  infidel  natives  of  America.  He  had  many  con- 
ferences with  Mr.  Ferrar  upon  this  subject,  and  the  best  way  and 
means  to  effect  it ;  and  he  seriously  informed  sir  E.  Sandys  and 
others  of  the  company,  that  he  verily  believed  Mr.  Ferrar  was 
determined  some  time  to  leave  the  whole  world,  and  settle  in 
Virginia ;  and  there  employ  the  extraordinary  talents  with  which 
God  had  blessed  him,  and  spend  his  life  in  the  conversion  of  the 
natives,  or  other  infidels  in  that  country :  adding,  "  If  he  should 
do  so,  I  will  never  forsake  him,  but  wait  upon  him  in  that  glorious 
work."  This  I  think  is  a  strong  presumptive  proof,  that  notwith- 
standing Mr.  Ferraris  great  abilities  in  different  occupations,  and 
his  wonderful  proficiency  in  various  acquisitions  of  science,  and 
other  accomplishments,  yet  that  the  peculiar  bent,  and  deter- 
mination of  his  mind  was  uniformly  given  to  the  promotion  of  the 
Christian  religion. 

At  this  time  (April,  1620)  died  Mr.  Ferrar  the  father,  who 
made  his  son  Nicholas  his  sole  executor ;  which  was  a  great  addi- 
tion to  the  business  already  lying  upon  him  :  but  he  had  abilities 
equal  to  any  thing,  and  to  every  thing ;  with  firmness  of  mind  and 
integrity  equal  to  his  ability.  Mr.  Ferrar  sen.  by  his  will  gave 
300J.  towards  erecting  a  school  or  college  in  Virginia  for  the 
better  education  of  such  infidel  children  as  should  be  there  con- 
verted to  the  Christian  religion.  He  was  buried  in  the  church  of 
I  Jennet  Sherhog,  April  11,  and  his  old  friend  Dr.  Francis 
White,  whom  he  brought  from  the  obscurity  of  the  country  into 
a  more  public  life,  preached  his  funeral  sermon  to  a  crouded 
audience;  in  which  he  described  him  as  a  second  Nathaniel.— 
"an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  was  no  guile." 

Tin-  Virginia  plantation,  now  under  the  government  of  the  earl 
•  •1*  Southampton,  became  every  day  oHi^ier  reputation,  and  tin- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  161 

affairs  of  the  company  in  consequence  every  day  of  more  weighty 
importance.  So  that  Mr.  Ferrar,  both  as  counsel 5  to  the  com- 
pany, and  assistant  also  to  his  brother  as  deputy  governor,  was 
pressed  by  a  double  weight  of  care :  as  the  company  would  not 
permit  the  deputy  to  resign  till  he  had  executed  his  office  three 
years;  which  he  did  1619,  under  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and  1620, 
1621,  under  the  earl  of  Southampton. 

But  now  the  increasing  fame  of  this  company,  and  the  wise 
management  of  it  was  carried  into  Spain,  and  caused  no  small 
alarm.  The  politicians  there  saw,  or  pretended  to  see  danger  in 
the  course  of  not  many  years.  Virginia  was  too  near  them,  both 
by  sea  and  land :  and  they  did  not  know  but  the  people  of  that 
plantation,  when  once  a  little  settled,  might  perhaps  be  looking 
over  the  hills,  and  at  length  spy  out  their  rich  mines.  Gondomar 
therefore  had  it  in  commission  to  have  a  special  eye  upon  the 
company,  and  the  managers  of  their  affairs.  And  he  was  indeed 
a  vigilant  observer  of  his  instructions.  He  not  only  gained  an 
absolute  influence  over  the  king,  but  many  great  men  about  him, 
whom  he  had  bought  with  Spanish  money  :  these  were  very 
powerful,  and  well  known  at  court  by  the  name  of  the  Spanish 
party. 

Gondomar  and  the  king  had  now  agreed  upon  the  destruction 
of  the  Virginia  company.  Notice  of  their  dishonourable  designs 
was  given  to  lord  Southampton  and  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  by  the 
marquis  of  Hamilton  and  the  earl  of  Pembroke ;  who  privately 
warned  them  to  look  well  to  themselves,  and  their  proceedings, 
for  that  many  stratagems  were  now  in  train,  and  would  be  pushed 
to  the  utmost  to  procure  the  destruction  of  the  plantation,  and  to 
ruin  all  persons  who  should  be  employed  in  supporting  the  affairs 
of  the  company. 

This  opportune  advice  produced  a  double  care  and  watchfulness 
in  the  managers,  if  possible,  to  prevent  the  intended  mischief. 
But  it  would  be  endless  here  to  relate  the  many  discouragements, 
the  dark  intrigues,  and  shameful  practices  which  they  now  daily 
met  and  encountered.  These  things  require  another  time  and 
place.  All  that  need  here  be  said  is  that  the  Virginia  business 
was  now  no  pastime,  nor  were  the  managers  in  any  respect  per- 
mitted to  be  idle. 

In  the  Easter  term,  1622,  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  having  been  con- 

6  As  counsel.']  See  p.  155,  note. 

VOL.  IV.  M 


162  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

tinued  deputy  governor  three  years,  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  elected 
to  succeed  him.  For  lord  Southampton  plainly  told  the  deputa- 
tion from  the  company,  who  waited  on  him  to  desire  he  would 
consent  to  be  re-elected,  that  if  they  did  not  choose  Mr.  Nicholas 
Ferrar  to  be  the  deputy  governor,  he  could  not  any  longer  take 
the  office  of  governor  upon  him ;  saying  that  he  was  the  only 
person  who  was  able  to  go  through  with  the  business;  and  to 
encounter  all  those  great  and  potent  oppositions,  which  he  knew 
either  were,  or  very  soon  would  be  raised  against  the  company 
and  the  plantation  :  and  that  without  Mr.  Ferraris  assistance  all 
would  fall  to  ruin.  "  You  all,"  he  continued,  "  see,  and  know  his 
abilities  and  his  integrity  as  well  as  I.  On  condition  of  his  being 
deputy,  I  will  be  your  governor:  but  he  must  be  the  person  who 
must  act  both  mine  and  his  own  part  also.  Without  him  I  dare 
not  accept  the  office :  with  him,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  serve  you." 

These  things  being  thus  settled,  the  meetings  at  Mr.  Ferrari 
house  began  again  to  be  crouded,  as  usual;  and  Gondomar 
exerted  double  diligence,  procuring,  by  Spanish  gold,  spies,  who 
informed  him  of  every  thing  that  was  done  at  these  meetings ; 
and,  what  added  greatly  to  his  influence,  the  Spanish  party  at 
court  carried  every  thing  with  a  high  hand. 

Many  shameful  stratagems  were  now  attempted  against  the 
company,  to  throw  their  affairs  into  confusion,  and  to  dishearten 
them  on  all  sides.  Particularly  their  privilege  in  point  of  cus- 
toms (which  was  to  pay  only  5  per  cent.)  was  now  questioned, 
and  15  per  cent,  demanded.  One  Jacobs  also,  who  had  procured 
a  licence  for  importing  Spanish  tobacco,  was  now  employed  and 
supported  by  the  great  men  in  the  pay  of  Gondomar  to  infriiiLrr 
the  company's  patent :  which  encreased  Mr.  Ferraris  trouble  to 
a  great  degree,  and  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  resort  frequently 
to  the  council  table,  and  to  sir  Tho.  Coventry  the  king^s  attorney 
general. 

The  hardship  and  the  injustice  put  upon  the  company  in  this 
last  article  only  was  very  great,  as  the  profit  arising  from  Virginia 
tobacco,  was  as  yet  the  only  return  which  the  planters  had  to 
answer  all  their  trouble,  expence,  and  hazard.  For  little  progress 
had  l>«'< -n  mado  in  the  several  plans  of  improvement,  as  the  conse- 
quencM  s  <>!'  tin-  fir>t  massacre*  by  the  savages,  were  not  yet  fully 
recov< 

•  Thffirtt  matsacre.]  [That  massacre  was  perpetrated  on  Friday,  March  22, 
1621,  at  which  time  the  iavages  killed  347  persons.     There  were  then  mur- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  163 

By  Mr.  Ferrar's  care  and  industry  things  seemed,  notwith- 
standing this  violence  and  injustice,  to  be  getting  again  in  a  fair 
way  towards  a  lasting  settlement.  But  alas  !  the  Spanish  match7 
for  the  prince  was  now  set  on  foot,  and  Gondomar  took  advantage 
of  that  opportunity  to  exert  his  absolute  power  over  the  king ; 
who  meanly  suffered  himself,  in  violation  of  his  patent,  and  the 
honour  of  a  king,  to  be  made  this  crafty  minister's  instrument  to 
effect  the  ruin  of  the  company. 

The  marquis  of  Hamilton  and  the  earl  of  Pembroke  solemnly 
affirmed  to  the  earl  of  Southampton,  that  they  heard  Gondomar 
say  to  the  king,  "  That  it  was  time  for  him  to  look  to  the 
Virginia  courts  which  were  kept  at  the  Ferrars1  house,  where  too 
many  of  his  nobility  and  gentry  resorted  to  accompany  the 
popular  lord  Southampton,  and  the  dangerous  Sandys.  That 
though  they  might  have  a  fair  pretence  for  their  meetings,  yet  he 
would  find  in  the  end  that  court  would  prove  a  seminary  for  a 
seditious  parliament.  That  they  were  deep  politicians,  and  had 
farther  designs  than  a  tobacco  plantation.  That  their  proceed- 
ings in  the  issue  might  cause,  if  not  timely  prevented,  occasions 
of  difference  between  his  majesty,  and  his  master  the  king  of 
Spain.  For  he  had  heard  rumours,  that  once  being  become 
numerous,  they  intended  to  step  beyond  their  limits;  and  for 
aught  he  knew,  they  might  visit  his  masters  mines.  Adding, 
that  he  had  occasion  of  late  to  have  a  conference  with  the 
managers  concerning  a  ship  laden  with  silver,  which  was  cast 
away ;  and  that  he  found  them  subtle  men,  men  of  high  courage, 

dered  at  Mr.  William  Ferrar's  house  these  ten  persons  :  Mr.  John  England, 
and  John  his  servant;  John  Bell,  Henry  Paterson,  and  Alice  his  wife,  and 
William  her  son ;  Thomas  their  servant,  James  Woodshaw,  and  Mary  and 
Elizabeth,  maid-servants.  —  Declaration  of  the  present  State  of  Virginia. 
London,  1622.  4to.  p.  14—37.] 

7  Spanish  match.']  The  infanta  Dona  Maria  had  been  offered  to  prince 
Charles,  by  the  Spanish  minister,  the  duke  of  Lerma,  in  the  lifetime  of  her 
father,  Philip  III.,  and  his  views  were  seconded  by  Gondomar,  the  Spanish, 
and  by  Digby,  the  English  ambassador.  On  the  death  of  Philip,  in  1622, 
James  and  Charles  wrote  to  Philip  IV.  and  to  the  Conde  Duque  de  Olivares, 
his  favourite;  Digby,  created  earl  of  Bristol,  went  to  accelerate  the  negociation; 
Gondomar  returned  to  Spain  for  the  same  purpose,  and  a  favourable  answer 
was  returned  from  Philip,  who  agreed  to  the  marriage  of  his  sister,  and  pro- 
mised to  intercede  in  behalf  of  Frederic,  the  elector  palatine,  the  son-in-law 
of  James.  In  February,  1623,  Charles  and  Buckingham,  attended  only  by 
sir  Francis  Cottington,  Endimion  Porter,  and  sir  Richard  Graham,  proceeded 
on  their  apparently  clandestine  and  pseudo-romantic  expedition  to  Madrid. 

M   2 


164  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

men  who  no  way  regarded  either  his  master  or  their  own." 
These  lords  therefore  advised  lord  Southampton  to  be  upon  his 
guard  ;  and  hade  him  and  his  deputy  prepare  for  the  rencounter ; 
for  that  it  would  certainly  come  to  the  push  of  pike ;  and  that 
they  feared,  as  matters  now  stood,  the  company  would  be  dis- 
solved, and  under  some  pretence  or  other  their  patent  taken 
away.  The  creatures  of  Gondomar  also  insinuated  to  the  king, 
that  the  matter  was  too  high  and  great  for  private  men  to 
manage:  that  it  was  therefore  proper  for  the  king  to  take  it 
into  his  own  hand,  and  to  govern  and  order  it  both  at  home  and 
abroad  according  to  his  own  will  and  pleasure. 

After  a  short  time  a  commission  was  granted  by  the  king  to 
some  known  enemies  to  the  company  to  disturb  and  teaze  them 
by  vexatious  examinations.  And  one  captain  Butler,  whom  the 
company  had  removed  from  his  office  for  scandalous  mismanage- 
ment and  injustice,  was  suborned,  and  made  an  instrument  to 
spread  disadvantageous  reports  of  the  country  itself,  as  being 
unfit  to  be  planted,  as  being  extremely  unhealthy,  and  entirely 
unproductive. 

Before  these  commissioners  Mr.  Ferrar  often  appeared  in 
defence  of  the  company,  and  exerted  himself  with  such  firmness 
and  force  of  argument,  not  only  face  to  face  to  the  accusers,  but 
by  such  unanswerable  deductions  in  writing,  that  the  commis- 
sioners were  not  able  to  proceed:  all  their  allegations  being 
demonstrated  by  him  to  be  false  and  frivolous.  The  matter 
therefore  was  brought  from  them  before  the  council  table.  And 
then  Mr.  Ferrar,  and  the  company  were  forced  to  attend  there 
twice  or  thrice  a  week  for  half  a  year  together,  in  order  to  weary 
them  out  by  a  vexatious  persecution.  But  notwithstanding  all 
these  infamous  machinations,  nothing  could  be  taken  hold  of  to 
wrest  the  patent  from  the  company.  They  were  often  indeed 
required  to  lay  it  down  ;  but  this  they  refused  to  do. 

At  this  time,  though  there  were  many  able  men  of  the  company 
ready  to  defend  their  just  cause,  yet  the  lords  of  the  council 
insisted  that  the  deputy,  being,  as  they  said,  the  representative 
of  tin-  company,  should  be  the  only  person  to  answer  their  objec- 
tions. And  this  they  did  on  seeing  him  so  young  a  man,  thinking 
from  that  circumstance  to  gain  some  advantage  over  him.  But 
he  answered  them  all  with  that  singular  wisdom  and  modesty, 
that  accurate  knowledge  of  affairs,  that  discretion,  firmness  and 
<-l«M|uciic.-.  that  the  mercenaries  of  Gondomar  were  confounded; 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  165 

and  then  by  a  new  and  unexpected  artifice,  and  in  pretended 
admiration  of  his  great  abilities,  said  it  was  pity  but  that  he 
should  be  taken  off  from  his  present  business,  and  employed  in 
public  affairs  of  more  weighty  importance. 

Accordingly  overtures  were  made,  and  a  negociation  entered 
upon  with  lord  Southampton  and  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  to  prevail 
with  them  to  persuade  Mr.  Ferrar  to  accept  the  place  of  clerk 
of  the  council,  or  (leiger)  8  envoy  to  the  duke  of  Savoy,  which 
of  the  two  employments  he  himself  liked  best.  He  modestly 
declined  the  offer,  saying  his  abilities  were  not  sufficient  for  a 
post  of  such  weighty  importance.  His  friends  continued  to  press 
him,  and  he  to  refuse.  At  length  he  told  them  that  he  could  not 
accept  of  such  preferment ;  that  his  thoughts  lay  quite  another 
way.  But  seeing  their  importunity  continue,  he  in  confidence 
to  his  two  great  friends,  and  on  their  promise  of  secrecy,  declared 
to  them  his  solemn  determination,  when  he  should  have  discharged 
the  duties  of  his  present  situation,  to  enter  upon  a  state  of  religious 
retirement. 

The  council  finding  that  the  company  were  still  resolved  not 
to  part  with  their  patent,  or  with  the  liberty  which  they  thereby 
had  to  govern  their  own  affairs,  now  took  a  more  severe  and  not 
less  unjust  course.  They  confined  lord  Southampton  to  his 
house,  that  he  might  not  come  to  the  Virginia  courts,  of  which 
he  was  the  legal  governor.  But  this  only  made  the  company 
more  resolute  in  their  own  just  defence.  They  then  ordered 
sir  Edwin  Sandys  into  a  similar  confinement.  But  this  step  in 
no  degree  abated  the  resolution  of  the  company.  Then  the  lords, 
under  the  influence  of  Gondomar,  strongly  pressed  the  company 
to  give  up  their  patent.  The  marquis  of  Hamilton  and  the  earl 
of  Pembroke  informed  lord  Southampton  and  sir  Edwyn  Sandys 
of  these  proceedings,  saying,  That  Nicholas  Ferrar,  though  now 
left  as  it  were  alone,  was  too  hard  for  all  his  opposers.  "  But," 
continued  they,  "  your  enemies  will  prevail  at  last ;  for  let  the 
company  do  what  they  can,  in  open  defiance  of  honour,  and 
justice,  it  is  absolutely  determined  at  all  events  to  take  away  your 
patent." 

But  Gondomar  and  his  instruments,  finding  that  their  violent 
measures  had  not  the  desired  effect  upon  the  company,  now 
vehemently  urged  the  king  to  take  the  plantation  into  his  own 

8  Leiger  envoy.']  See  p.  90,  note. 


166  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

hands,  as  a  thing  befitting  a  king :  and  particularly  as  being  a 
measure  that  would  be  most  acceptable  to  the  king  of  Spain. 

Still  however  the  same  unjust  persecution  of  the  company  was 
carried  on ;  and  Mr.  Ferrar  still  remained  unanswerable  in  his 
defence.  When  one  day  the  lord  treasurer  Cranfield 9  in  great 
heat  of  passion  told  him,  "  that  he  could  prevail  with  the  company 
if  he  would,  and  they  might  then  obtain  all  that  they  desired." 

Nicholas  Ferrar  then  being  called  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
council  table,  addressed  himself  with  all  humility  to  the  lords, 
and  to  lord  Cranfield  in  particular,  "beseeching  them  in  the 
most  earnest  manner  not  to  entertain  so  vain  an  imagination. 
That  there  were  many  members  of  the  company  much  better 
qualified  than  he  was  to  speak  upon  their  affairs.  Nevertheless, 
that  he  humbly  entreated  their  lordships  to  consider  seriously 
whether,  if  such  a  number  of  the  Virginia  company  as  made  a 
court,  or  whether,  if  all  those  members  who  lived  in  or  near 
London  should  meet  and  assemble  together,  whether  even  all 
these  could  either  in  law  or  equity  give  up  the  patent,  without 
the  previous  consent  of  all  the  rest  of  the  members,  to  the 
number  of  some  thousands  now  dispersed  all  over  England.  And 
these  too  not  persons  of  inferior  rank,  but  persons  of  the  first 
condition,  of  the  nobility,  and  gentry,  of  the  bishops,  and  clergy, 
of  the  chief  citizens,  and  of  the  principal  companies,  and  corpora- 
tions throughout  the  whole  kingdom.  Besides  these,  all  the 
planters  also  in  Virginia,  who  were  all  included  in  the  grant,  and 
who  all  upon  the  encouragement,  and  promised  protection  of  the 
king,  under  the  great  seal  of  England,  and  the  pledge  of  his  royal 
word  and  honour,  adventured  their  estates,  and  many  of  them 
even  their  lives  in  this  the  greatest  and  most  honourable  under- 
taking in  which  England  had  ever  been  engaged.  He  represented 
also  the  great  good  which  in  numberless  sources  of  wealth  and 
strength,  would  by  means  of  this  corporation,  and  through  the 
encouragement  of  their  care,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  shortly 
accrue  to  this  nation.  And  he  again  and  again  most  earnestly 
besought  their  lordships  to  take  all  these  things  into  their  most 

9  Cranfield.']  Lionel  Cranfield,  afterwards  earl  of  Middlesex.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark  that  his  daughter  and  heiress,  Frances,  married  Richard,  sixth  earl 
•  if  1  >orset,  the  son  of  that  Edward  Sackville  to  whom,  for  safe  custody,  were 
committed  (see  p.  179)  the  copies  of  the  books  and  papers  of  the  Virginia 
Company  which  he  (the  lord  treasurer  Cranfield)  laboured  so  sedulously  to 
destroy. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  167 

serious  consideration;  and  no  longer  to  urge  them,  not  the 
twentieth  part  of  the  persons  interested,  to  do  an  action  which 
was  in  itself  both  unjust  and  unreasonable,  and  indeed  impossible 
for  them  to  do.  For  how  could  they  pretend  to  give  away  and 
yield  up  the  rights,  and  interests  of  other  men,  without  the 
consent  of  the  parties  interested  first  obtained.  And  in  the 
most  solemn  manner  he  adjured  their  lordships  not  to  make  them 
the  instruments  of  doing  so  vile  a  thing,  to  which,  if  they  con- 
sented, they  should  render  themselves  worthy  of  the  severest 
punishment.  Besides,  he  said,  it  is  worthy  your  lordships1  farther 
consideration,  how  far  such  a  precedent  may  possibly  operate, 
and  how  dangerous  such  an  example  may  be,  if  only  a  twentieth 
part  of  any  company  should  presume,  or  should  be  permitted  to 
deliver  up  the  liberties  and  privileges,  the  rights,  and  the  pro- 
perty of  the  other  nineteen  parts,  and  that  without  so  much  as 
once  calling  them  together  to  give  their  consent.  This,  he  con- 
tinued, was  what  the  company  now  assembled  must  refuse  as  a 
thing  unjust,  and  not  feasible  for  them  to  do." 

The  lord  treasurer  upon  his  discoursing  thus,  being  inflamed 
with  violent  passion,  often  interrupted  him,  and  so  did  some 
others.  But  the  marquis  of  Hamilton,  the  earl  of  Pembroke, 
and  some  other  lords  of  the  council  said,  "  Nay,  my  good  lords, 
forbear.  Let  him  make  an  end.  We  have  called  him  hither  to 
know  what  he  can  say  on  the  company's  behalf.  Let  us  there- 
fore not  interrupt  him  ;  it  is  but  reasonable  to  hear  him  out. 
Mr.  deputy,  go  on."" 

Mr.  Ferrar,  with  the  most  respectful  humility  then  said, 
"  Most  honourable  lords,  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  concluding. 
I  will  add  only  this,  that  as  for  my  own  private  interest,  and  the 
interest  of  many  here  present,  and  of  many  others  who  are  absent, 
my  lords,  we  all  most  humbly  cast  ourselves,  and  our  estates  at 
his  majesty's  royal  feet :  let  him  do  with  us  and  with  them,  if  so 
he  be  determined,  what  seemeth  best  unto  his  good  will  and  plea- 
sure. For  as  to  what  is  really  our  own,  and  in  us  to  give,  we 
submit  it  all  to  his  majesty's  disposal ;  and  in  all  other  things  we 
shall  endeavour  to  serve  and  please  him  in  all  that  with  a  con- 
science unhurt  we  may  :  desiring  only  this,  that  with  respect  to 
the  rights  and  property  of  others,  we  may  be  permitted  to  execute 
the  trust  reposed  in  us,  with  fidelity  and  honour,  and  to  discharge 
religiously  those  duties,  which,  as  they  are  of  the  first  importance, 
ought  to  have  the  first  influence  upon  the  mind  of  man.''1 


168  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Then  the  marquis  of  Hamilton  stood  up,  and  with  a  loud  voice 
said,  "  Mr.  deputy,  in  my  opinion,  my  lords,  hath  spoken  well, 
excellently  well  both  for  himself,  and  for  the  company.  And 
what,  my  lords,  can  we  now  desire  more  of  him  ?"  The  earl  of 
Pembroke  seconded  lord  Hamilton,  and  said,  "  Surely,  my  lords, 
1  hope  the  king  (if  he  shall  hear  all)  will  be  satisfied  with  what 
we  have  done,  but  particularly  with  what  we  have  now  heard. 
Let  us  fairly  report  it  to  him,  and  then  let  his  majesty  do  what 
he  thinks  most  proper.  We  have  sat  a  long  time  upon  this  busi- 
ness, and  at  length  we  may  conjecture  the  result." 

Gondomar  with  his  profligate  instruments,  the  king,  and  the 
Spanish  party  at  court,  perceiving  that  Mr.  Ferrar  (having  de- 
monstrated all  their  allegations  to  be  false  and  groundless)  had 
rendered  all  their  violence  ineffectual,  now  had  recourse  to  a 
different  mode  of  proceeding.  They  suborned,  and  procured  per- 
sons to  bring  forward  a  crimination  against  him  ;  who  came  and 
exhibited  in  form  a  complaint  to  the  council  board.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  accusation  was  this,  That  the  deputy,  during  the 
times  of  his  appearing  before  the  council,  had  drawn  up  and  sent 
to  the  governor  and  plantation  of  Virginia  certain  dangerous 
instructions,  and  inflammatory  letters  of  advice,  directing  them 
how  they  should  conduct  themselves  in  standing  to  their  patent, 
and  exhorting  them  that  they  should  never  give  their  consent  to 
let  it  be  delivered  up.  And  therefore  that  if  these  letters  and 
instructions  were  not  countermanded  by  their  lordships,  some 
very  ill  consequence  might  ensue,  and  the  king  might  thereby 
receive  much  dishonour. 

As  soon  as  this  pretended  complaint  was  lodged  in  form,  in- 
stantly, though  it  was  then  very  late  at  night,  some  pursuivants, 
who  were  kept  in  readiness  for  that  purpose,  were  dispatched  in 
all  haste  to  Mrs.  Ferraris  house  to  speak  with  the  deputy,  and  to 
command  him  without  any  delay  immediately  to  deliver  up  to 
them,  all  those  books  of  the  Virginia  company  wherein  v 
registered  the  copies  of  all  such  letters  and  instructions  as  had 
been  sent  to  the  plantation  from  the  council  or  company  here. 

Mr.  Ferrar  told  them  that  the  secretary  of  the  Virginia  cmn- 
j ,  and  not  he,  had  the  keeping  of  those  books.  They  then 
rerpiin  <1  him  to  give  them  a  note  to  the  secretary  to  deliver  them. 
But  he  excused  himself,  saying,  "  Surely  your  commission  will  be 
a  better  authority  for  him  to  do  so,  than  any  note  which  I  can 
send  him.  For  my  own  part,  if  I  had  the  company's  evidences 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  169 

in  my  possession,  entrusted  to  my  custody,  I  certainly  would  not 
deliver  them  up,  unless  I  had  their  leave,  and  express  order  so  to 
do."  When  he  said  this  they  left  him,  and  went  to  the  secretary, 
and  forced  him  to  deliver  up  the  books  to  them. 

The  next  day  the  deputy,  and  many  lords  and  gentlemen  con- 
cerned in  the  company,  were  summoned  to  attend  at  the  council 
table.  For  the  accusers  of  the  company  had  given  it  out  pub- 
licly, that  now  very  strange  things  indeed  would  be  discovered  in 
these  books  and  instructions,  and  brought  forth  to  public  view. 
On  this  account  there  was  a  very  numerous  attendance,  and  all 
the  lords  of  the  council  also  were  particularly  summoned  to 
attend. 

When  the  council  was  met,  the  deputy  (as  heretofore)  was 
commanded  to  come  to  the  upper  end  of  the  table.  Then  the 
accusers  of  the  company  desired  of  the  lords  that  one  of  the 
clerks  of  the  council  might  read  such  and  such  letters  and  instruc- 
tions written  in  such  and  such  months.  Some  of  which  being- 
read,  the  lords  of  the  council  looked  upon  one  another  with 
evident  marks  of  astonishment ;  observing  that  there  was  nothing 
of  that  dangerous  consequence  in  those  papers,  which  the  accusers 
had  informed  them  they  would  discover  ;  but  on  the  contrary 
much  matter  of  high  commendation.  "  Point  out,"  said  one 
lord,  "  where  is  the  fault  or  error  in  these  letters  and  instructions ; 
for  my  own  part  I  must  say  that  I  cannot  see  any." 

The  enemies  of  the  company  then  prayed  their  lordships  to 
hear  them  all  read  out ;  and  then  they  said  it  would  soon  appear 
where  the  faults  lay.  "  Yea,  yea,"  said  the  lord  treasurer  with 
vehemence,  "  read  on,  read  on :  we  shall  anon  find  them."  So 
they  still  persisted  to  read.  And  in  a  word,  so  much  patience 
had  the  lords,  or  rather  so  much  pleasure,  that  many  of  them 
said  they  thought  their  time  had  been  well  spent.  All  these 
letters  and  instructions  being  in  the  end  thus  read  out,  and  no- 
thing at  all  appearing  which  was  any  ways  disadvantageous  to  the 
company,  but  on  the  contrary  very  much  to  their  credit  and 
honour :  the  marquis  of  Hamilton  stood  up,  and  said,  "  That 
there  was  one  letter  which  he  prayed  might  be  read  over  again, 
on  which  he  should  desire  to  make  a  few  observations."  Which 
being  accordingly  done,  "Well!"  said  he,  "  my  lords,  we  have 
spent  many  hours  here,  in  hearing  all  these  letters  and  instruc- 
tions, and  yet  I  could  not  help  requesting  to  hear  this  one  letter 
over  again ;  because  I  think  that  all  your  lordships  must  agree 


170  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

with  me  that  it  is  absolutely  a  master-piece.  And  indeed  they 
are  all  in  high  degree  excellent.  Truly,  my  lords,  we  have  this 
day  lost  no  time  at  all.  For  I  do  assure  you  that  if  our  attend- 
ance here  were  for  many  days,  I  for  my  part  would  willingly  n't 
them  out  to  hear  so  pious,  so  wise,  and  indeed  politic  instructions 
as  these  are.  They  are  papers  as  admirably  well  penned  as  any  I 
ever  heard.  And,  I  believe,  if  the  truth  were  known,  your  lord- 
ships are  all  of  the  same  opinion.'1 

The  earl  of  Pembroke  said,  "  There  is  not  one  thing  in  them 
all,  which,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  deserves  in  the  least  degree  to  be 
excepted  against.  On  the  contrary  they  all  deserve  the  highest 
commendation  :  containing  advices  far  more  excellent  than  I 
could  have  expected  to  have  met  with  in  the  letters  of  a  trading 
company.  For  they  abound  with  soundness  of  good  matter,  and 
profitable  instruction  with  respect  both  to  religion  and  policy ;  and 
they  possess  uncommon  elegance  of  language."  Many  other  lords 
concurred  in  these  commendations,  and  at  length  one,  addressing 
himself  to  Mr.  Ferrar,  said,  u  Mr.  deputy,  I  pray  you  tell  us 
who  penned  these  letters  and  instructions,  we  have  some  reason 
to  think  it  was  yourself." 

Mr.  Ferrar,  whose  modesty  and  humility  were  not  inferior  to 
his  other  rare  accomplishments,  replied,  "  My  lord,  these  arc  the 
letters  and  instructions  of  the  company,  and  the  council  of  the 
company.  For  in  all  weighty  affairs  they  order  several  commit- 
tees to  make  each  a  rough  draught  of  what  they  judge  proper  to 
be  done  in  these  matters :  which  rough  draughts  are  afterward  all 
put  together,  and  presented  first  to  the  council,  and  then  to  t lie- 
company  to  receive  all  proper  alteration,  as  they  shall  please. 
And  thus  every  thing  is  drawn  up  and  concluded  upon  the  advice 
of  many."  After  due  commendation  of  his  modesty  as  well  as 
his  ability,  it  was  replied  to  him,  "  Mr.  deputy,  that  th« •>«• 
papers  before  us  are  the  production  of  one  pen,  is  very  plainly 
discernible  :  they  are  jewels  that  all  come  out  of  one  rich  cabim-t. 
of  which  we  have  undoubted  reason  to  believe  that  you  aiv  the 
true  possessor." 

The  lords  under  the  influence  of  Gondomar  were  now  abashed 
and  silrnt ;  only  one  of  them  said  to  the  accusers  of  the  company. 
•  What  strange  and  unaccountable  measures  are  these  that  you 
have  taken  !  to  have  called  us  together,  and  to  make  us  sit  and 
hear  all  these  things  uhich  are  entirely  opposite  to  your  O\MI 
information-,  and  which  meet,  as  you  find,  with  universal  appro- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  171 

bation."  To  which  one  man  of  a  bold  spirit  replied,  "  We  shall 
still  in  the  end  carry  our  point.  These,  my  good  lord,  are  not  the 
letters  and  instructions  which  we  meant.  The  company  have 
others  no  doubt  in  private,  which  they  secrete,  and  which  if  they 
could  now  be  found,  would  quickly  silence  them.  We  have  lately 
heard  of  things  passing  in  their  courts  which  would  surprize  you." 
On  which  one  of  the  council  rose  and  said,  ;c  My  lords,  such 
malevolence  and  injustice  is  unequalled  :  such  proceedings  are  not 
to  be  endured.  But  unprincipled  malice  has  a  face  too  brazen  to 
be  ashamed  of  any  thing."  The  lords  then  rose,  and  the  adver- 
saries of  the  company  were  much  confounded,  having  now  with 
all  honest  and  impartial  men  entirely  lost  all  credit. 

The  very  night  after  this  meeting,  one  of  the  clerks  of  the 
council  came  to  Lord  Southampton  and  told  him  that  his  deputy 
had  that  day  gained  a  most  complete  victory,  and  had  extorted 
the  highest  commendations  even  from  the  lords  of  the  adverse 
party  :  and  it  was  supposed  that  proposals  would  be  made  to  him 
to  engage  in  the  king's  immediate  service.  u  But  for  all  that,  my 
lord,"  said  he,  "  depend  upon  it,  such  the  times  are.  your  patent 
is  irretrievably  gone." 

Lord  Southampton  communicated  this  information  to  the  lords 
and  gentlemen  interested  in  the  company,  saying,  "  You  all 
well  know  that  those  things  which  our  enemies  thought  would 
have  been  to  their  advantage,  and  our  damage,  have  hitherto  all 
turned  out  to  our  credit  and  to  our  honour  :  nevertheless,  all  will 
not  help  us.  It  is  determined  that  our  patent  shall  be  taken 
away,  and  the  company  dissolved.  The  king,  I  find,  has  resolved 
to  have  the  management  of  the  plantation  in  his  own  hands,  to 
direct,  and  govern  as  he  sees  best.  A  thing  indeed  worthy  a 
king's  care :  but,  alas  !  alas !  this  is  all  but  a  colourable  shew. 
For  you  will  find  in  the  end  that  this  worthy  company  will  be 
broken,  and  come  to  nothing.  We  must  ah1  arm  ourselves  with 
patience." 

Mr.  Ferrar  had  now  gained  the  highest  reputation  with  all 
ranks  of  men  for  the  uncommon  abilities  which  he  displayed  on 
every  occasion,  and  the  esteem  for  his  great  virtues  was  un- 
bounded, but  especially  with  those  who  were  interested  in  the 
affairs  of  the  Virginia  company.  At  this  time  a  citizen  of  the 
first  class  both  for  riches  and  reputation  paid  him  a  visit,  and 
after  the  warmest  expressions  of  the  highest  opinion  of  his  extra- 
ordinary talents,  and  integrity,  thus  continued,  "Mr.  Ferrar. 


172  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

I  have  an  only  daughter,  who,  if  paternal  affection  doth  not  too 
much  influence  my  judgment,  is  both  wise  and  comely :  indeed  it 
is  confessed  by  all  that  she  is  very  beautiful.  I  know  her  to  have 
been  virtuously  educated,  to  be  well  accomplished,  and  to  be  of 
an  amiable  disposition.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  accept  of  her  as 
your  wife,  I  will  immediately  give  you  with  her  ten  thousand 
pounds."  Mr.  Ferrar  was  much  surprised,  returned  his  sincere 
thanks,  but  said  he  was  not  worthy  of  so  great  a  treasure.  The 
citizen  however  persisted,  said  he  was  really  in  earnest  to  bring 
about  the  connection  :  that  at  present  he  only  made  his  proposal 
with  intent  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  consider  of  it.  After 
a  few  days  he  came  again,  and  asked  Mr.  Ferrar  if  he  had 
advised  with  his  friends  concerning  his  proposal,  saying,  "  They 
all  know  me  well."  Mr.  Ferrar  answered  that  he  had  not ;  "for 
you  I  perceive,  sir,  are  greatly  mistaken  in  me,  first  in  having  too 
high  an  opinion  of  my  abilities,  and  next  with  respect  to  my 
estate,  which  you  perhaps  may  conceive  to  be  what  it  is  not.  I 
think  myself  infinitely  obliged  to  you  for  your  good  will  towards 
me,  and  for  honouring  me  so  far  as  to  think,  what  I  cannot 
think  of  myself,  that  I  am  any  way  worthy  of  so  inestimable  a 
treasure  as  your  daughter."  "  Mr.  Ferrar,"  he  replied,  "  do  not 
talk  thus  to  me  :  for  I  know  you  perfectly  well ;  and  as  for  your 
estate,  I  give  myself  no  manner  of  concern  about  it.  What  for- 
tune you  have  I  demand  not  to  know.  Let  it  be  what  it  will ;  if 
you  have  nothing,  I  thank  God  that  I  have  enough  to  make  you 
and  my  daughter  happy  as  to  worldly  matters.  And  as  to  my 
own  part,  I  shall  think  myself  the  happiest  man  upon  earth  to 
have  you  my  son-in-law,  and  my  daughter  must  be  equally  happy 
to  have  so  accomplished,  and  so  virtuous  a  man  for  her 
husband." 

By  means  of  an  intimate  friend  of  the  father,  an  interview  was 
brought  about  at  this  friend's  house  between  the  young  lady  and 
Mr.  Ferrar,  where  in  a  select  company  they  passed  several  hours 
together.  The  father  then  took  a  convenient  opportunity  to  a-k 
his  daughter  what  she  thought  of  Mr.  Ferrar,  to  which  >h<- 
answered,  "  Nothing  but  good."  "  Can  you  then  like  him  for  a 
hu>haml  :"  to  which  with  equal  ingenuousness  and  modesty  she 
replied.  "Sir,  I  shall  with  pleasure  do  in  this,  as  well  as  in  all 
other  things,  as  you  will  please  to  have  me :  my  duty  and  my 
inclination  \\ill  <j;o  together."  Matters  being  so  far  advanced, the 
tat  her  said  to  Mr.  Ferrar,  "  Now,  sir,  you  have  seen  my  daugh- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  173 

ter,  I  hope  her  person  and  deportment  are  such  as  to  merit  your 
approbation.  As  to  your  own  estate,  nothing  is  desired  to  be 
known.  Be  that  as  it  may ;  I  have  enough  ;  I  like  you,  and  my 
daughter  submits  herself  to  my  choice.  Now  let  me  have  your 
answer."  Mr.  Ferrer  replied,  "  The  young  lady  your  daughter, 
sir,  is  in  every  respect  not  only  unexceptionable,  but  highly  to  be 
admired :  she  is  beautiful,  and  accomplished,  and  amiable  to  the 
greatest  degree,  and  far  superior  to  all  that  I  can  merit :  indeed 
I  do  not,  I  cannot  deserve  this  great  happiness.  I  return  you 
my  sincerest  thanks  for  your  unequalled  goodness  to  me ;  and  in 
the  confidence  of  friendship  I  will  now  acquaint  you  with  the 
private  and  fixed  determination  of  my  mind.  If  God  will  give 
me  grace  to  keep  a  resolution  long  since  formed,  I  have  deter- 
mined to  lead  a  single  life  ;  and  after  having  discharged,  to  the 
best  of  my  ability,  my  duty  to  the  company,  and  to  my  family,  as 
to  worldly  concerns,  I  seriously  purpose  to  devote  myself  to  God, 
and  to  go  into  a  religious  retirement."  Thus  ended  this  affair, 
and  the  father  ever  after  preserved  the  most  affectionate  friend- 
ship for  Mr.  Ferrar. 

After  the  unworthy  part  which  the  king,  influenced  by  Gondo- 
mar,  had  taken  in  the  persecution  of  the  Virginia  company,  the 
deputy  had  now  indeed  a  great  encrease  of  trouble  in  managing 
their  concerns.  But  in  truth  and  justice  to  his  friends  it  must 
be  said,  that  lord  Southampton,  the  earl  of  Dorset,  the  earl  of 
Devon,  lord  Paget,  Sir  Edwyn  Sandys  and  many  others,  gave 
him  all  the  assistance  in  their  power.  But  all  to  no  purpose. 
For  the  king,  notwithstanding  his  royal  word  and  honour 1 


1  Word  and  honour."]  "  It  must  be  admitted  that  Ferrar  was  not  himself 
unscathed  in  this  political  contest :  his  conscience  was  wounded  both  as 
regarded  his  God  and  his  king.  In  taking  so  active  and  conspicuous  a  part 
in  this  transaction,  he  had  opposed  the  wishes  of  James,  who  was  known  to 
be  unfriendly  to  the  impeachment.  He  had  yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  the 
directors  and  proprietors  of  the  company,  and  in  doing  so,  it  seems  that  some 
free  speeches  of  his  against  the  will  of  his  prince,  though  exceedingly  well 
meant,  and  tending  to  the  ends  of  public  justice,  were,  nevertheless,  a  source 
of  long  and  deep  regret  to  his  loyal  heart :  so  much  so,  that  he  was  heard  to 
say,  stretching  out  his  right  hand,  *  I  would  I  were  assured  of  the  pardon 
of  that  sin,  though  on  the  condition  that  this  hand  were  cut  off.'  " — Brief 
Memoirs  of  Nicholas  Ferrar,  M.A.,  chiefly  collected  from  a  narrative  by  the 
right  rev.  Dr.  Turner,  formerly  lord  bishop  of  Ely,  and  now  edited,  with  addi- 
tions, by  the  Rev.  T.  M.  Macdonough,  vicar  of  Bovinadon,  p.  73.  183/.  I2mo. 

I  am  inclined  to  conjecture,  that  the  indignant  expressions  of  a  political 


174  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

pledged  to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding  the  grant  under  the 
great  seal  of  England,  notwithstanding  all  that  should  bind 
the  conscience,  and  direct  the  conduct  of  an  honest  man,  was 
now  determined  with  all  his  force  to  make  the  last  assault,  and 
give  the  death-blow  to  this  as  yet,  prosperous,  and  thriving 
company. 

At  this  juncture  a  full  testimonial  came  from  the  colony, 
proving  the  healthiness  of  the  climate,  and  the  fruitfulness  of 
the  country,  against  the  slanderous  informations  of  that  captain 
Butler,  who  had  been  suborned  by  Gondomar  and  his  agents  to 
spread  defamatory  reports  concerning  a  country  of  which  he  knew 
nothing,  having  only  been  there  in  his  flight  from  justice,  and 
having  suddenly  stolen  away  from  thence  to  avoid  being  seized  by 
authority  for  his  scandalous  proceedings. 

This  testimonial  being  exhibited  at  the  council  board,  the  lords 
in  Gondomar's  interest  became  enraged,  and  resolved  upon  the 
last  violence.  They  therefore  now  drew  up  a  great  number  of 
charges  utterly  false  and  slanderous,  against  both  the  company 
and  the  colony,  under  the  invention  and  direction  of  Gondomar, 
and  the  lord  treasurer  Cranfield.  These  accusations  were  given 
to  the  latter,  and  he  now  undertook  either  by  consent  to  get,  or 
by  force  to  wring  the  patent  out  of  the  hands  of  the  company. 

\Vith  this  view  on  the  Thursday  before  Easter,  1623,  a  council 
was  called,  and  the  deputy  and  others  were  sent  for  to  attend. 
Who  being  come,  the  lord  treasurer  presented  those  papers  of 
accusation  to  the  lords,  saying  that  they  contained  a  charge 
which  the  deputy  and  company  must  answer  by  the  next  Monday. 
For  that  a  longer  time  would  not,  and  should  not  be  allowed 
them.  Mr.  Ferrar  taking  up  the  bulky  bundle,  said  he  thought 
it  impossible  to  assemble  the  company,  and  answer  so  many,  and 
such  strange  articles  in  so  short  a  time  as  two  days ;  for  Sunday 
was  not  a  day  for  business,  and  therefore  he  humbly  besought 
their  lordships  to  allow  him  only  a  week,  and  he  would  desire  no 
more.  Upon  this  the  lord  treasurer  cried  out  in  great  wrath, 
44  Not  an  hour  longer  than  till  Monday  afternoon,  and  therefore 
take  up  the  papers  and  be  gone." 

These  papers  on  examination  were  found  to  contain  a  huge 
parcel  of  absolute  falsehoods,  which  the  enemies  of  the  company 

character,  in  the  text,  here  and  elsewhere,  are  to  be  attributed  principally,  not 
to  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  but  to  the  modem  compiler.  Dr.  Peckard. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  175 

had  invented,  and  drawn  out  to  such  an  unreasonable  length,  that 
by  the  shortness  of  the  time  allowed  (which  was  preconcerted 
with  the  lord  treasurer)  it  was  thought  impossible  that  the  agents 
for  the  company  should  give  in  any  answer  ;  that  then  Gondo- 
rnar  and  his  party  would  be  triumphant,  and  able  to  boast  that 
the  Virginia  company  either  could  not,  or  durst  not  answer  their 
accusation. 

Mr.  Ferrar  however  dividing  the  charge  into  three  parts, 
giving  one  to  lord  Cavendish,  another  to  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and 
taking  the  third  to  himself,  and  employing  six  clerks  very  ready 
with  the  pen  to  copy  fair,  continuing  at  the  work  without  inter- 
ruption, night  and  day,  allowing  but  two  hours  for  sleep,  and 
refreshment,  did  actually  produce  and  lay  before  the  council,  a 
complete  answer  at  the  time  appointed.  The  lords  were  assem- 
bled and  making  themselves  merry  with  the  expected  embarrass- 
ment of  the  Virginia  company.  But  in  a  very  short  time  their 
merriment  was  converted  into  shame  and  confusion.  A  clerk  was 
ordered  to  read  the  answer.  The  reading  took  up  full  six  hours. 
When  it  was  done,  all  was  a  considerable  time  deep  silence  and 
astonishment.  The  adversaries  of  the  company  were  all  per- 
plexed, and  confounded,  and  in  shame  retired  home.  They  had 
however  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  secrete  and  convey  away 
the  answer  they  had  required.  It  never  appeared  more,  and  the 
company  never  heard  what  became  of  it. 

The  Spanish  match  being  yet  intended,  and  prosecuted,  during 
this  negociation  the  king  was  the  absolute  slave  of  Gondomar,  to 
do  without  regard  to  honour  or  justice  whatsoever  he  should  ad- 
vise to  be  done.  In  consequence  of  this  infatuation,  the  deputy, 
and  thirty  more  of  the  directors,  and  principal  persons  of  the 
Virginia  company  were  now  served  with  a  writ  of  Quo  Warranto, 
and  commanded  to  show  by  what  authority  they  pretended  to 
exercise  a  power  over  the  plantation,  and  to  send  a  governor 
thither :  and  by  this  process  the  company  now  were  obliged  to 
go  to  law  to  defend  their  right. 

After  many  delays  the  cause  came  on  to  be  pleaded.  The 
great  plea  which  the  king's  attorney  general  (Coventry)  brought 
against  them  was,  "  That  it  was  in  general  an  unlimited,  vast 
patent.  In  particular,  the  main  inconvenience  was,  that  by  the 
words  of  the  charter,  the  company  had  a  power  given  them  to 
carry  away,  and  transport  to  Virginia,  as  many  of  the  king's 
loving  subjects  as  were  desirous  to  go  thither.  And  consequently, 


176  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

he  said,  by  exercising  this  liberty,  they  may  in  the  end  carry 
away  all  the  king's  subjects  into  a  foreign  land ;  and  so  leave  his 
majesty  a  kingdom  here  indeed,  but  no  subjects  in  it.  And  if 
this  should  be  the  case,  what  will  then  become  of  him,  or  of  us  ? 
This  is  certainly  a  strange  clause,  and  the  patent  wherein  it  is 
contained  ought  to  be  forfeited." 

This  weighty  argument  extorted  a  smile  even  from  the  judges, 
and  the  lawyers  concerned  to  carry  on  the  prosecution.  Never- 
theless, it  was  admitted  :  for  the  determination  was  made,  previous 
to  entering  upon  the  merits  of  the  cause,  what  the  decree  should 
be.  The  attorney-general  then  proceeded,  and  said  he  had  found 
a  flaw  in  the  company's  answer,  which  if  admitted,  contained  on 
the  one  hand  too  much,  and  on  the  other  too  little  ;  and  there- 
fore, being  such  a  nicety  in  law,  he  craved  sentence  upon  it  as 
insufficient. 

Sentence  was  thereupon  given,  u  That  the  patent,  or  charter 
of  the  company  of  English  merchants  trading  to  Virginia  and 
pretending  to  exercise  a  power  and  authority  over  his  majesty's 
good  subjects  there,  should  be  thenceforth  null  and  void." 

The  king  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  whole  proceeding,  which 
from  beginning  to  end  was  a  despotic  violation  of  honour  and  of 
justice. 

The  great  reputation  of  Mr.  Ferrar  being  now  spread  over  all 
parts  of  the  country  by  the  members  of  the  late  dissolved  Virginia 
company,  he  was  in  1624,  elected  a  member  of  parliament.  As 
this  in  a  general  consideration  was  highly  proper  on  account  of 
his  extensive  abilities,  and  known  integrity ;  so  was  there  a 
peculiar  propriety  in  his  election  at  this  time ;  as  there  was  an 
intention  now  to  call  to  account  before  the  house  of  parliament, 
those  persons  who  had  abused  the  king's  ear,  and  had  been 
guilty  of  those  violent  enormities  in  the  false  accusation  of  the 
managers  of  the  Virginia  company.  For  it  was  well  known  that 
Mr.  Ferrar  was  not  only  more  accurately  acquainted  with  all  the 
circumstances  of  that  affair  than  any  other  person,  but  had  also 
abilities  and  firmness  sufficient  to  carry  on  the  prosecution  in  a 
proper  manner. 

The  prince  being  now  returned  from  Spain  in  great  discontent. 
the  Spanish  party  at  court  began  in  some  degree  to  lose  their 
influence.  The  parliament  met.  Mr.  Ferrar  was  appointed  one 
of  several  committees:  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and  many  other 
members  of  the  lat«-  Virginia  company  were  also  in  this  j.arlia- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  177 

ment.  A  charge  was  brought  in  against  the  lord  treasurer,  the 
earl  of  Middlesex,  for  taking  bribes,  and  divers  other  exorbi- 
tancies  committed  in  the  execution  of  his  office ;  and  also  for  his 
conduct  in  the  Virginia  affair,  and  his  violence  in  taking  away 
the  patent,  and  dissolving  the  company. 

On  this  occasion  the  house  appointed  the  lord  William  Caven- 
dish, sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and  Nicholas  Ferrar  to  draw  up  the 
charge  against  him  and  those  others,  who  had  been  his  instru- 
ments in  that  scandalous  proceeding.  The  charge  was  soon 
drawn  up,  as  Mr.  Ferrar  had  all  the  necessary  materials  ready  in 
his  hands.  The  accusation  was  opened  by  him  in  a  speech  which 
lasted  two  hours,  and  which  gained  him  universal  admiration. 
For  now  he  was  fully  and  publicly  seen  in  this  exertion  of  his 
great  abilities.  The  lord  treasurer  was  deprived  of  his  office, 
and  punished  by  a  large  fine,  and  imprisonment. 

The  iniquity  of  the  Virginia  business  being  fully  proved,  and 
laid  before  the  public,  by  Mr.  Ferrar,  and  the  other  managers, 
the  house  resolved  to  take  the  whole  affair  into  their  serious 
consideration,  and  endeavour  to  restore  the  company.  But 
before  they  could  make  any  progress  they  received  a  message 
from  the  king,  "  That  he  both  already  had,  and  would  also  here- 
after take  the  affair  of  the  said  late  Virginia  company  into  his 
own  most  serious  consideration  and  care :  and  that  by  the  next 
parliament  they  should  all  see  he  would  make  it  one  of  his  master 
pieces,  as  it  well  deserved  to  be."  And  thus  was  all  farther  pro- 
ceeding in  that  matter  dishonourably  stayed.  For,  as  the  event 
shewed,  all  these  were  nothing  but  fair  words  without  any  other 
intention  than  to  stop  the  business.  No  care  was  taken  of  the 
plantation,  but  all  was  left  to  go  to  ruin.  The  violence  and 
injustice,  and  other  miseries  consequent  upon  this  falsehood,  and 
repeated  breach  of  honour  in  the  king  would  supply  a  large 
story :  but  for  divers  reasons  they  are  not  proper  to  be  here 
inserted. 

When  Mr.  Ferrar  was  first  elected  deputy  governor  of  the 
company,  and  by  his  office  became  accurately  acquainted  with  all 
their  circumstances,  he  was  soon  convinced  of  the  unbounded 
influence  of  Gondomar,  of  the  king^s  astonishing  infatuation,  and 
of  his  total  disregard  of  truth  and  justice.  Such  a  king  as  James 
was  the  properest  instrument  that  could  be  found  for  such  a 
workman  as  Gondomar ;  and  Mr.  Ferrar  plainly  saw  the  malice  of 
the  one,  and  the  folly  of  the  other ;  and  like  a  wise  man  provided 

VOL. iv.  N 


178  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

all  in  his  power  against  future  contingencies.  He  saw  that 
Gondomar  by  means  of  the  king  would  probably  ruin  the  com- 
pany ;  and  that  if  they  should  carry  this  point,  they  most  likely 
would  cause  all  the  court  books,  registers,  instructions,  and  all 
other  writings  of  the  company  to  be  taken  away  from  their 
officers:  that  if  opportunity  should  afterward  be  offered,  they 
might  never  be  able  to  make  use  of  them  either  for  their  own 
justification,  or  in  refutation  of  the  false  accusations  of  their 
enemies.  He  did  not  therefore  depend  upon  the  present  pro- 
mising appearance  of  their  affairs :  he  knew  that  malice  was  at 
work  ;  and  he  had  frequently  seen  a  temporary  calm  precede  the 
most  destructive  storm. 

Being  under  apprehensions  of  this  sort,  about  a  year  before 
the  dissolution  of  the  company,  he  procured  an  expert  clerk 
fairly  to  copy  out  all  the  court  books,  and  all  other  writings 
belonging  to  them,  and  caused  them  all  to  be  carefully  collated 
with  the  originals,  and  afterwards  attested  upon  oath  by  the 
examiners  to  be  true  copies.  The  transcribing  of  which  cost 
him  out  of  his  own  pocket  above  50£,  but  this  he  thought  one  of 
the  best  services  he  could  do  the  company. 

When  the  lords  of  the  council  therefore  (as  before  related) 
seized  the  originals,  Mr.  Ferrar  had  all  these  attested  copies, 
as  yet  unknown  to  any  of  the  company,  safe  in  his  possession. 
But  now  when  the  lord  treasurer  had  procured  sentence  in  form 
against  the  company,  and  all  their  muniments  had  been  taken 
from  them,  Mr.  Ferrar  informed  sir  Edwyn  Sandys,  and  - 
other  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  what  a  treasure  he  had  yet 
remaining  in  his  hands  ;  and  desired  their  opinion  how  ho  might 
best  dispose  of  them.  On  hearing  this  they  were  equally  .sur- 
prised and  overjoyed,  and  unanimously  desired  him  to  carry  them 
to  their  late  worthy  governor  the  carl  of  Southampton.  He  did 
so,  and  farther  told  his  lordship,  that  he  now  left  them  entirely 
to  his  lordship's  care  and  disposal :  that  if  hereafter  there  should 
be  opportunity,  he  might  make  use  of  them  in  justification  of 
his  own,  and  the  late  company's  most  honourable  and  upright 
proceedings. 

Tin-  earl  of  Southampton  cordially  embracing  Mr.  Ferrar,  said 
to  him,  u  You  still  more  and  more  engage  me  to  love  and  honour 
you.  I  accept  of  this  your  present  as  of  a  rich  treasure.  For 
these  are  evidences  that  concern  my  honour.  I  shall  value  them 
therefore  even  more  than  the  evidences  that  mix-em  m\  lands  ; 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  179 

inasmuch  as  my  honour  and  reputation  are  to  me  of  more  estima- 
tion than  wealth  or  life  itself.  They  are  also  the  testimonials  of 
all  our  upright  dealings  in  the  business  of  the  late  company 
and  the  plantation.  I  cannot  therefore  express  how  highly  I 
think  myself  obliged  to  you  for  this  instance  of  your  care  and 
foresight." 

Soon  after  this  interview,  lord  Southampton  was  advised  not 
to  keep  these  books  in  his  own  house,  lest  search  should  be  made 
there  for  them  ;  but  rather  to  place  them  in  the  hands,  and 
entrust  them  to  the  care  of  some  particular  friend.  Which  ad- 
vice, as  the  times  then  stood,  he  thought  proper  to  follow.  He 
therefore  delivered  them  into  the  custody  of  sir  R.  Killegrew, 
who  kept  them  safely  till  he  died.  He  left  and  recommended 
them  to  the  care  of  sir  Edward  Sackville,  late  earl  of  Dorset,  who 
died  in  May,  1652  :  and  it  is  hoped  that  this  noble  family  still 
hath  them  in  safe  keeping 2. 

Mr.  Ferrar  having  seen  the  dissolution  of  the  Virginia  com- 
pany3, and  no  hope  left  of  its  revival,  took  his  leave  of  the  Virginia 
affairs  by  now  paying  the  300£.  left  by  his  father  for  the  purpose 
of  erecting  a  college  there,  to  the  governor  and  company  of  the 
Somers  Islands :  binding  them  in  articles  to  send  for  three  Vir- 
ginia children,  and  bring  them  up  in  those  islands :  and  when  of 
fit  age  to  put  them  out  to  some  proper  business  :  or  else  educate 
them  in  learning,  and  then  send  them  back  to  the  place  of 
their  birth,  to  convert  their  countrymen :  and  that  when  the 
first  three  were  thus  disposed  of,  three  other  should  from 
time  to  time  be  sent  for  in  succession  for  the  same  benevolent 
purpose. 

And  thus  ended  Mr.  Ferraris  public  life ;  in  which  he  displayed 

2  In  safe  keeping.']  It  is  very  probable  that  they  are  still  in  safe  keeping  at 
Knowle,  the  ancestral  residence  of  the  Sackville  family,  now  [1852]  belonging 
to  the  countess  of  Amherst,  the  heiress  of  the  dukes  of  Dorset. 

3  Dissolution  of  the  Virginia  company. ~\  Many  facts  relating  to  the  history 
of  this  company  will  be  found  in  the  following  work :  viz.,  "A  Short  Collection 
of  the  most  remarkable  Passages  from  the  Originall  to  the  Dissolution  of  the 
Virginia  Company.     London,  1651."  4to.     It  is  written  by  Arthur  Woodnoth, 
and  was  given  by  him  to  his  cousin,  William  Woodnoth,  some  years  after 
whose  death  it  was  published,  with  a  dedication  by  "A.  P."  to  "the  Com- 
pany of  Adventurers  for  the  Sommer,  alias  the  Bermudas  Islands."     A.  P. 
calls  Arthur  Woodnoth,  "a  true  friend  and  servant  to  sir  John  Danvers 
(see  p.  8)  and  the  Parliament  interest.'*     The  Woodnoths,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, were  relations  of  the  Ferrars.     See  p.  124. 

N  2 


180  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

many  proofs  of  great  and  extensive  abilities,  and  of  uncommon 
virtue,  particularly  of  indefatigable  diligence,  industry,  and  ac- 
tivity, by  which  he  gained  universal  admiration,  and  performed 
many  important  services,  both  to  the  Virginia  company,  and  all 
others  with  whom  he  was  concerned. 

The  king  having  seized  the  patent  and  dissolved  the  Virginia 
company,  and  Mr.  Ferrar  having  seen  the  attested  copies  of  all 
the  books  and  papers  belonging  to  them  delivered  into  safe  cus- 
tody in  the  Dorset  family,  he  was  now  disengaged  from  public 
cares,  and  determined  to  carry  into  execution  the  plan  he  had 
long  set  his  heart  upon,  to  bid  farewel  to  the  busy  world,  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  religious  retirement,  and  a 
strict  course  of  devotion. 

Yet  before  he  could  complete  his  pious  purpose  it  was  necessary 
for  him  finally  to  settle  some  matters  of  great  consequence,  though 
of  a  private  nature,  which  had  been  entrusted  to  his  care.  His 
established  reputation  for  inflexible  integrity  had  influenced  seve- 
ral persons  to  prevail  with  him  to  undertake  the  executorship  of 
their  wills,  and  the  settlement  of  their  worldly  affairs :  and  in 
some  of  these  instances  this  trust  concerned  property  of  great 
value,  and  was  involved  in  circumstances  of  great  difficulty. 
Beside  these  occupations  relative  to  the  property  of  others,  the 
situation  of  his  brother  required  his  immediate  and  close  atten- 
tion. Mr.  John  Ferrar  had  been  for  three  years  deputy  governor 
of  the  Virginia  company,  and  in  order  to  give  himself  up  wholly 
to  the  discharge  of  that  important  trust,  he  had  put  into  the 
hands  of  his  partners  in  mercantile  business  seven  thousand 
pounds,  and  assigned  the  management  of  those  affairs  over  to 
them.  He  also  advanced  six  thousand  pounds  more  to  them,  for 
which  he  was  engaged  by  a  personal  security.  Whether  it  were 
by  mismanagement  or  misfortune  does  not  at  present  appear,  but 
about  this  time  the  concerns  of  this  partnership  were  fallen  into 
the  greatest  confusion,  and  involved  in  the  utmost  embarrass- 
ment. Mr.  N.  Ferrar  nevertheless  by  his  great  sagacity  and 
indefatigable  industry,  in  a  shorter  time  than  could  be  believed, 
extricated  his  brother  from  all  his  difficulties,  and  settled  his 
affairs  in  the  most  honourable  manner  at  the  loss  of  about  three 
thousand  pounds. 

His  next  care  was  to  provide  a  place  fitted  for  the  purpose,  and 
corresponding  with  his  iduas  of  religious  retirement.  His  mother 
had  indeed  a  very  large  house  in  London,  in  which  had  been  holden 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  181 

the  meetings  of  the  Virginia  company :  she  had  also  a  consider- 
able estate,  and  a  large  house  in  the  town  of  Hertford.  But  nei- 
ther of  these  places  had  his  approbation,  both  being  too  much  in 
view  of  the  public. 

At  length  he  was  informed  that  the  lordship  of  Little  Gidding, 
in  the  county  of  Huntingdon,  was  to  be  sold.  He  immediately 
went  thither  to  examine  the  place  and  premises,  which  he  found, 
with  respect  to  privacy  of  situation,  exactly  suited  to  his  wishes. 
It  was  a  parish  that  had  been  for  some  time  depopulated.  Nothing 
was  left  but  one  extremely  large  mansion-house,  going  hastily  to 
decay,  and  a  small  church  within  thirty  or  forty  paces  of  the 
house,  and  at  that  time  converted  into  a  barn.  Upon  his  return 
to  London  he  purchased  the  whole  lordship,  and  this  purchase 
was  made  in  the  year  1624. 

But  now  the  plague  having  been  some  time  in  London,  was  in 
the  year  1 625  spread  over  most  parts  of  the  town,  and  was  disco- 
vered to  be  at  the  very  next  door  to  Mrs.  Ferraris  house.  Mr. 
N.  Ferrar  was  therefore  very  urgent  that  she  and  the  family 
would  immediately  depart  into  the  country ;  but  while  she  lin- 
gered, being  unwilling  to  leave  him  behind,  he  procured  a  coach, 
and  at  length  prevailed :  and  that  very  night,  Whitsun-eve,  she 
with  her  son  John,  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  went  to  her  house 
at  Hertford,  and  the  following  week  to  her  daughter  Collet's,  at 
Bourne-bridge,  in  Cambridgeshire. 

Mr.  N.  Ferrar  would  have  attended  his  mother,  but  that  he 
had  not  completely  settled  his  brother's  affairs.  During  this 
business,  Mr.  J.  Ferrar,  leaving  his  mother  at  Bourne,  went  to 
Gidding  to  make  some  necessary  preparation  there  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  family,  who  were  now  become  very  unhappy  at  the 
stay  of  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  in  London,  as  they  had  been  informed  that 
the  disorder  was  fatal  every  week  to  more  than  four  thousand 
persons.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished  the  business  which  required 
his  stay,  he,  with  great  joy  and  gratitude  to  God,  repaired  to 
Gidding ;  from  whence  he  wrote  to  his  mother,  entreating  her 
not  to  come  to  him  in  less  than  a  month,  that  it  might  appear 
whether  he  had  brought  away  any  infection  with  him.  But  her 
impatience  to  see  him  was  so  great,  that  three  days  after  she  rode 
thither,  and  their  meeting  was  such  as  might,  at  that  time,  be 
expected  between  a  pious  parent  and  a  dutiful  son,  to  the  highest 
degree  mutually  affectionate ;  in  its  circumstances  indeed  very 
different  from  the  modern  meetings  of  parent  and  son :  for  he, 


182  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

though  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  who  had  been  engaged  in  many 
public  concerns  of  great  importance,  had  been  a  distinguished 
member  of  parliament,  and  had  conducted  with  effect  the  prose- 
cution of  the  prime  minister  of  the  day,  at  first  approaching  his 
mother,  knelt  upon  the  ground  to  ask  and  receive  her  blessing. 
He  then  besought  her  to  go  into  the  house,  rude  as  it  was,  and 
repose  herself.  This  she  refused  till  she  had  given  thanks  to  God 
in  the  church,  which  was  very  near  at  hand.  But  she  was  exceed- 
ingly grieved  to  find  it  filled  with  hay  and  instruments  of  hus- 
bandry. Immediately  all  the  workmen,  many  in  number,  em- 
ployed in  the  repair  of  the  house,  were  set  to  cleanse  and  repair 
the  church :  for  she  said  she  would  not  suffer  her  eyes  to  sleep 
nor  her  eyelids  to  slumber  till  she  had  purified  the  temple  of  the 
Lord.  In  about  a  month's  time,  finding  that  all  danger  of 
infection  was  over,  she  sent  for  her  beloved  daughter  Collet,  and 
her  husband,  and  all  their  numerous  family,  to  come  and  live  with 
her  at  Oidding. 

Mrs.  Ferrar  was  now  seventy-three  years  of  age,  yet  was  she 
possessed  of  so  much  vigour,  and  had  so  much  of  the  appearance 
as  well  as  the  reality  of  health,  that  all  who  saw  her  concluded 
her  to  be  not  more  than  forty.  Her  family  now  consisted  of  near 
forty  persons ;  and  it  being  a  season  of  deep  humiliation  on 
account  of  the  mortality  then  become  general  all  over  the  king- 
dom, it  was  determined  to  address  themselves  to  God,  as  often  as 
they  conveniently  could,  according  to  the  doctrine  and  discipline 
by  law  established  in  the  church  of  England.  To  this  end,  Mr. 
N.  Ferrar  obtained  permission  of  his  old  acquaintance  bishop 
Williams,  to  have  the  service  performed  in  the  church,  which 
was  now  put  into  decent  repair ;  and  he  procured  the  minister  of 
the  adjoining  parish  to  read  the  morning  service  every  day  at  eight 
o'clock,  the  litany  at  ten,  and  the  evening  service  at  four.  On 
the  Sunday  mornings  the  whole  family  went  to  Steeple  (iiddin^, 
and  in  the  afternoon  the  minister  of  that  parish  and  his  parish- 
ioners came  to  the  church  newly  repaired  by  Mrs.  Ferrar. 

At  Easter,  1626,  the  plague  being  then  ceased,  Mr.  N.  Ferrar 
and  his  mother,  and  some  others  of  the  family,  went  to  London, 
tn  dispose  of  their  great  house  there,  to  settle  their  remaining 
all'.iirs,  and  to  take  a  final  leave  of  all  their  friends.  When  they 
had  been  some  little  time  in  London,  he  resolved,  in  order  the 
better  to  carry  on  hi.s  religious  plan  by  his  own  personal  as 
anre,  to  become  a  deacon.  This  resolution  he  commnnieated  to 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  183 

none  but  his  honoured  tutor,  Dr.  Lindsel,  who  highly  applauded 
it,  and  introduced  him  to  Dr.  Laud,  then  bishop  of  St.  David's, 
by  whom  he  was  ordained  deacon  on  the  Trinity  Sunday 
following. 

On  his  return  home  he  addressed  himself  to  his  mother,  and 
shewed  her  in  a  writing  signed,  a  vow  which  he  had  made  with 
great  solemnity ;  That  since  God  had  so  often  heard  his  most 
humble  petitions,  and  delivered  him  out  of  many  dangers ;  and 
in  many  desperate  calamities  had  extended  his  mercy  to  him  ;  he 
would  therefore  now  give  himself  up  continually  to  serve  God  to 
the  utmost  of  his  power,  in  the  office  of  a  deacon :  into  which 
office  he  had  that  very  morning  been  regularly  ordained.  That 
he  had  long  ago  seen  enough  of  the  manners  and  of  the  vanities 
of  the  world ;  and  that  he  did  hold  them  all  in  so  low  esteem, 
that  he  was  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  mortifi- 
cations, in  devotion,  and  charity,  and  in  a  constant  preparation 
for  death. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  even  in  his  infancy,  and  before 
he  set  out  upon  his  travels,  and  after  his  great  escape  upon  the 
Alps,  he  did  privately  and  solemnly  devote  himself  to  God ;  and 
that  after  his  unexpected  recovery  from  his  dangerous  illness  both 
at  Padua  and  Marseilles  he  repeated  these  pious  resolutions, 
adding  also  a  vow  of  perpetual  celibacy.  This,  if  true,  may 
account  for  his  extraordinary  continence  (though  in  the  full 
prime  and  vigour  of  life)  in  refusing  the  offer  of  a  young  lady  of 
incomparable  beauty  and  rare  accomplishments,  of  the  most 
amiable  disposition,  and  of  an  immense  fortune ;  who  had  also 
ingenuously  confessed  that  he  had  won  her  highest  approbation 
and  esteem.  Instances  of  such  firmness  of  mind  and  self-denial 
seldom  occur. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Ferrar  being  ordained  was  soon  spread  abroad 
both  in  the  city  and  at  court,  as  in  both  he  was  universally  known 
and  very  highly  esteemed.  His  constant  friends  the  marquis  of 
Hamilton,  lord  Pembroke,  and  Sir  Edwin  Sandys  took  this  oppor- 
tunity of  saying  to  him,  That  though  he  had  formerly  refused  all 
temporal  emoluments,  yet  now  he  had  taken  orders  they  must 
suppose  that  he  had  not  any  objection  to  spiritual  preferment,  and 
immediately  made  him  an  offer  of  some  ecclesiastical  benefices  of 
great  value.  These  he  refused  with  steadiness  and  humility, 
saying  that  he  did  not  think  himself  worthy.  He  added  also, 
that  his  fixed  determination  was  to  rise  no  higher  in  the  church 


184  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

than  the  place  and  office  which  he  now  possessed,  and  which  he 
had  undertaken  only  with  the  view  to  be  legally  authorised  to 
give  spiritual  assistance,  according  to  his  abilities,  to  his  family 
or  others,  with  whom  he  might  be  concerned.  That  as  to  tem- 
poral affairs,  he  had  now  parted  with  all  his  worldly  estate,  and 
divided  it  amongst  his  family.  That  he  earnestly  besought  his 
honoured  friends  to  accept  his  sincere  thanks  for  their  good  opi- 
nion of  him,  for  whose  prosperity,  both  in  this  world  and  a  better, 
he  would  never  cease  to  pray.  And  now  having  finished  all  busi- 
ness in  London,  and  taken  a  solemn  and  final  leave  of  all  their 
friends,  he  and  his  mother  returned  to  Gidding. 

It  now  comes  in  course  to  speak  of  the  established  economy 
both  of  the  house  and  the  church  ;  and  it  is  hoped  that  the  reader 
will  here  excuse  a  circumstantial  relation  :  because  on  these  very 
circumstances,  misapprehended,  and  misrepresented,  were  founded 
all  the  calumnies  and  persecution  which  the  family  afterward 
suffered. 

Many  workmen  having  been  employed  near  two  years,  both 
the  house  and  church  were  in  tolerable  repair,  yet  with  respect 
to  the  church  Mrs.  Ferrar  was  not  well  satisfied.  She  therefore 
new  floored  and  wainscotted  it  throughout.  She  provided  also 
two  new  suits  of  furniture  for  the  reading-desk,  pulpit,  and  com- 
munion-table :  one  for  the  week  days,  and  the  other  for  Sundays 
and  other  festivals.  The  furniture  for  week  days  was  of  green 
cloth,  with  suitable  cushions  and  carpets.  That  for  festivals  was 
of  rich  blue  cloth,  with  cushions  of  the  same,  decorated  with  lace, 
and  fringe  of  silver.  The  pulpit  was  fixed  on  the  north,  and  the 
reading-desk  over  against  it,  on  the  south  side  of  the  church,  and 
both  on  the  same  level*:  it  being  thought  improper  that  a  higher 
place  should  be  appointed  for  preaching  than  that  which  was 
allotted  for  prayer.  A  new  font  was  also  provided,  the  leg,  laver, 
and  cover  all  of  brass,  handsomely  and  expensively  wrought  and 
carved  ;  with  a  large  brass  lectern,  or  pillar  and  eagle  of  brass 
for  the  Bible.  The  font  was  placed  by  the  pulpit,  and  the  lectern 
by  the  reading-desk. 

The  half-pace,  or  elevated  floor,  on  which  the  communion-tal>le 
stood  at  the  end  of  the  chancel,  with  the  stalls  on  each  side,  was 
covered  with  blue  taffety,  and  cushions  of  the  finest  tapestry  and 
blue  silk.  The  space  behind  the  communion-table,  under  the  east 

4  On  the  same  level.]  See  Walton's  Life  of  Herbert,  in  this  volume,  p.  20. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  185 

window,  was  elegantly  wainscotted,  and  adorned  with  the  Ten 
Commandments,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
engraved  on  four  beautiful  tablets  of  brass,  gilt. 

The  communion-table  itself  was  furnished  with  a  silver  patin, 
a  silver  chalice,  and  silver  candlesticks,  with  large  wax  candles  in 
them.  Many  other  candles  of  the  same  sort  were  set  up  in  every 
part  of  the  church,  and  on  all  the  pillars  of  the  stalls.  And  these 
were  not  for  the  purposes  of  superstition,  but  for  real  use  ;  which 
for  great  part  of  the  year  the  fixed  hours  for  prayer  made  neces- 
sary both  for  morning  and  evening  service.  Mrs.  Ferrar  also 
taking  great  delight  in  church  music,  built  a  gallery  at  the 
bottom  of  the  church  for  the  organ.  Thus  was  the  church 
decently  furnished,  and  ever  after  kept  elegantly  neat  and  clean. 

All  matters  preparatory  to  order  and  discipline  being  arranged 
and  settled,  about  the  year  1631,  Dr.  Williams,  the  bishop  of 
Lincoln,  came  privately  to  Gidding,  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  old  friend 
Mr.  N.  Ferrar,  with  whom  he  had  contracted  a  friendship  at  the 
Virginia  board,  and  for  whom  he  ever  held  the  highest  and  most 
affectionate  esteem. 

By  this  visit  he  had  an  opportunity  to  view  the  church,  and 
the  house,  and  to  examine  into  their  way  of  serving  God,  which 
had  been  much  spoken  against ;  to  know  also  the  soundness  of 
the  doctrine  they  maintained :  to  read  the  rules  which  Mr.  N. 
Ferrar  had  drawn  up  for  watching,  fasting,  and  praying,  for 
singing  psalms  and  hymns,  for  their  exercises  in  readings,  and 
repetitions  ;  for  their  distribution  of  alms,  their  care  of  the  sick, 
and  wounded ;  and  all  other  regularities  of  their  institution. 
All  which  the  bishop  highly  approved,  and  bade  them  in  God's 
name  to  proceed. 

In  1633  Mrs.  Ferrar  came  to  a  resolution5  to  restore  the 


3  Came  to  a  resolution.']  "  Their  heavenly-mindedness  was  best  discovered 
to  their  diocesan,  when  two  sons  of  Mrs.  Ferrar,  the  mother  and  matron  of 
the  houshold,  treated  with  the  bishop,  to  endow  the  church  with  the  tithes, 
which  had  been  impropriated  :  this  was  in  September  1633,  as  appears  by  a 
smack  of  that  which  fell  from  the  pen  of  the  donor,  as  followeth  : 

"  *  Right  reverend  father  in  God, 

" '  The  expectation  of  opportunities  having  some  years  wheeled 
me  off  from  the  performance  of  this  business,  I  now  think  it  necessary  to 
break  through  all  impediments,  and  humbly  to  present  to  your  lordship  the 
desires  and  the  intentions  of  my  heart :  beseeching  you  on  God's  behalf  to 


186  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

glebe  lands  and  tithes  to  the  church,  which  some  fourscore  years 
before  had  been  taken  away,  and  in  lieu  thereof  only  20/.  a  year 
paid  to  tin*  minister.  She  had  from  the  first  been  so  resolved, 
but  had  been  put  off  by  unexpected  delays.  She  found  great 
difficulty  in  making  out  the  glebe  lands  :  but  at  length  by  the 
industry  of  Mr.  N.  Ferrar,  she  overcame  it.  She  then  sent  her 
sons  John  and  Nicholas  with  a  letter  to  the  bishop  informing  him 
of  her  determination,  and  desiring  it  might  be  confirmed  by  his 

take  them  into  your  fatherly  consideration,  and  to  give  a  speedy  accomplish- 
ment to  them,  by  the  direction  of  your  wisdom,  and  the  assistance  of  your 
authority.' 

"The  rest  is  too  much  to  be  rehearsed,  save  a  little  of  her  prayer  to  God  in 
the  end  of  the  papers. 

" '  Be  graciously  pleased,  Lord,  now  to  accept  from  thy  handmaid  the  resti- 
tution of  that,  which  hath  been  unduly  heretofore  taken  from  thy  ministers. 
And  as  an  earnest  and  pledge  of  the  total  resignation  of  herself  and  hers  to 
thy  service,  vouchsafe  to  receive  to  the  use  of  thy  church  this  small  portion 
of  that  large  estate,  which  thou  hast  bestowed  on  her  the  unworthiest  of  thy 
servants.  Lord,  redeem  thy  right,  whereof  thou  hast  been  too  long  disseized 
by  the  world  both  in  the  possessions  and  in  the  person  of  thy  hand-maid. 
And  let  this  outward  seizure  of  earth  be  accompanied  with  an  inward  sur- 
prizal  of  the  heart  and  spirit,  into  thine  own  hands  :  so  that  the  restorer,  as 
well  as  that  which  is  restored,  may  become,  and  be  con6rmed  thine  inhe- 
ritance.* 

"The  bishop  prayed  to  God  that  many  such  customers  might  come  to 
him  :  so  commended  her  free-will  offering  to  God,  and  confirmed  it. 

"  To  make  them  some  amends  for  their  liberality  to  the  church,  he  devised 
now  to  give  them  reputation  against  all  detraction.  Therefore  in  the  spring 
that  came  after,  he  gave  them  warning  on  what  Sunday  he  would  preach  in 
their  church,  whither  an  extreme  press  of  people  resorted  from  all  the  towns 
that  heard  of  it.  In  his  sermon  he  inserted  most  what  it  was  to  die  unto  the 
world:  that  the  righteous  should  scarce  be  saved:  that  our  right  eye,  and 
our  right  hand,  and  all  our  fleshly  contentments,  must  be  cut  off,  that  we 
may  enter  into  life.  All  tended  to  approve  the  dutiful  and  severe  life  of  the 
Femurs,  and  of  the  church  that  was  in  their  house.  After  sermon  the  bishop 
took  their  invitation  to  dine  with  them.  But  they  were  so  strict  to  keep  that 
day  holy,  that  they  left  not  a  servant  at  home  to  provide  for  the  table.  Yet 
it  was  handsomely  furnished  with  that  which  was  boiled  and  baked,  that 
required  no  attendance,  to  stay  any  one  from  church  to  look  to  it.  By  this 
visit  the  bishop  had  the  means  to  see  their  way  of  serving  God;  to  know  the 
soundness  of  doctrine  which  they  maintained  :  to  read  their  rules  which  they 
had  drawn  up  for  fasts,  and  vigils,  and  large  distribution  of  alms  :  in  which 
he  bad*- them  proceed  in  the  name  of  God,  and  gave  them  his  blessings  at 
his  departing." — Hacket's  Life  of  Archhishop  Williams,  part  ii.  p.  51.  See 
also  Kennett  On  Impropriations  and  Augmentation  of  Vicarages,  p.  235 — 7. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  187 

authority.  This  authority  from  the  bishop  was  farther  strength- 
ened by  a  decree  in  chancery  under  lord  Coventry. 

In  the  spring  of  1 634,  the  bishop  to  make  some  acknowledge- 
ment of  this  generosity,  gave  notice,  that  he  would  again  pay  a 
visit  to  the  family  and  give  them  a  sermon.  And  it  being  known 
that  he  was  a  lover  of  church  music,  application  was  made  to 
Dr.  Towers,  dean  of  Peterborough,  who  sent  his  whole  choir  to 
Gidding  on  the  occasion.  Divine  service  was  performed  through- 
out in  the  cathedral  manner  with  great  solemnity.  The  bishop 
preached  a  sermon  adapted  to  the  occasion,  and  in  the  afternoon 
gave  confirmation  to  all  of  the  neighbourhood  who  desired  it. 

Every  thing  relative  to  the  church  being  now  compleatly 
settled,  Mr.  Ferrar  next  turned  his  attention  to  the  disposition 
of  the  mansion.  The  house  being  very  large,  and  containing 
many  apartments,  he  allotted  one  great  room  for  their  family 
devotions,  which  he  called  the  Oratory,  and  adjoining  to  this, 
two  other  convenient  rooms,  one  a  night  oratory  for  the  men, 
the  other  a  night  oratory  for  the  women:  he  also  set  out  a 
separate  chamber  and  closet  for  each  of  his  nephews  and  nieces  ; 
three  more  he  reserved  for  the  schoolmasters  ;  and  his  own 
lodgings  were  so  contrived  that  he  could  conveniently  see  that 
every  thing  was  conducted  with  decency  and  order.  Without 
doors  he  laid  out  the  gardens  in  a  beautiful  manner,  and  formed 
them  in  many  fair  walks. 

Another  circumstance  that  engaged  his  attention  was,  that  the 
parish  had  for  many  years  been  turned  into  pasture  grounds  ;  that 
as  there  was  a  very  large  dovecote,  and  a  great  number  of  pigeons 
upon  these  premises,  these  pigeons  must  consequently  feed  upon 
his  neighbours'  corn ;  and  this  he  thought  injustice.  He  there- 
fore converted  this  building  into  a  school-house,  which  being 
larger  than  was  wanted  for  the  young  people  of  the  family,  per- 
mission was  given  to  as  many  of  the  neighbouring  towns  as 
desired  it,  to  send  their  children  thither,  where  they  were  in- 
structed without  expence,  in  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  and  the 
principles  of  the  Christian  religion. 

For  this  and  other  purposes,  he  provided  three  masters  to  be 
constantly  resident  in  the  house  with  him.  The  first  was  to 
teach  English  to  strangers,  and  English  and  Latin  to  the  chil- 
dren of  the  family :  the  second,  good  writing  in  all  its  hands, 
and  arithmetic  in  all  its  branches :  the  third,  to  instruct  them  in 
the  theory  and  practice  of  music,  in  singing,  and  performing  upon 


188  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

the  organ,  viol,  and  lute.  On  the  last  instrument  his  sister  Collet 
was  a  distinguished  performer. 

For  all  these  things  the  children  had  their  stated  times  and 
hours.  So  that  though  they  were  always  in  action,  and  always 
learning  something,  yet  the  great  variety  of  things  they  were 
taught  prevented  all  weariness,  and  made  every  thing  be  received 
with  pleasure.  And  he  was  used  to  say  that  he  who  could  attain 
to  the  well-timing  things,  had  gained  an  important  point,  and 
found  the  surest  way  to  accomplish  great  designs  with  ease. 

On  Thursdays,  and  Saturdays  in  the  afternoons,  the  youths  were 
permitted  to  recreate  themselves  with  bows  and  arrows,  with 
running,  leaping,  and  vaulting,  and  what  other  manly  exercises 
they  themselves  liked  best.  With  respect  to  the  younger  part  of 
the  females,  the  general  mode  of  education  was  similar  to  that  of 
the  boys  except  where  the  difference  of  sex  made  a  different  em- 
ployment or  recreation  proper.  When  the  powers  of  reason  and 
judgment  became  in  some  degree  matured,  they  were  all  at  proper 
times  taken  under  the  immediate  instruction  of  Mr.  Ferrar  him- 
self, who  bestowed  several  hours  every  day  in  that  important 
employment.  According  to  the  capacity  of  each  he  gave  tin  -in 
passages  of  Scripture  to  get  by  heart,  and  particularly  the  whole 
book  of  psalms.  He  selected  proper  portions,  of  which  he  gave 
a  clear  explanation,  and  a  judicious  comment.  But  above  all 
things  he  was  anxiously  attentive  to  daily  catechetical  lectures, 
according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  England.  And  in 
order  to  make  his  pious  labours  extensively  beneficial,  he  invited 
the  children  of  all  the  surrounding  parishes,  to  get  the  book  of 
psalms  by  heart.  To  encourage  them  to  this  performance,  i-adi 
was  presented  with  a  psalter :  all  were  to  repair  to  Gidding  every 
Sunday  morning,  and  each  was  to  repeat  his  psalm,  till  they  could 
all  repeat  the  whole  book.  These  psalm-children,  as  they  WITC 
called,  more  than  a  hundred  in  number,  received  every  Sunday, 
according  to  the  proficiency  of  each,  a  small  pecuniary  reward  and 
a  dinner,  which  was  conducted  with  great  regularity.  For,  win -n 
they  returned  from  church,  long  trestles  were  placed  in  the  middle 
of  the  great  hall,  round  which  the  children  stood  in  great  order. 
Mrs.  Ferrar,  and  her  family  then  came  in  to  see  them  scrv«-d. 
The  servants  brought  in  baked  puddings  and  nu-at  :  whk-h  was 
tin  only  repast  provided  on  Sundays  for  the  whole  family,  that  all 
might  have  an  opportunity  of  attending  divine  service  at  church, 
then  set  on  tin-  tir>t  di>h  herself,  to  give  an  example  of 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  189 

humility.  Grace  was  said,  and  then  the  bell  rang  for  the  family, 
who  thereupon  repaired  to  the  great  dining-room,  and  stood  in  order 
round  the  table.  Whilst  the  dinner  was  serving,  they  sang  a 
hymn  to  the  organ :  then  grace  was  said  by  the  minister  of  the 
parish,  and  they  sat  down.  During  dinner  one  of  the  younger 
people,  whose  turn  it  was,  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  when 
that  was  finished,  another  recited  some  chosen  story  out  of  the 
book  of  martyrs,  or  Mr.  Ferrar's  short  histories.  When  the 
dinner  was  finished  throughout  the  family,  at  two  o'clock  the  bell 
summoned  them  to  church  to  evening  service,  whither  they  went 
in  a  regular  form  of  procession,  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  sometimes  leading 
his  mother,  sometimes  going  last  in  the  train :  and  having  all 
returned  from  church  in  the  same  form,  thus  ended  the  public 
employment  of  every  Sunday. 

Immediately  after  church  the  family  all  went  into  the  oratory, 
where  select  portions  of  the  psalms  were  repeated,  and  then  all 
were  at  liberty  till  five  o'clock :  at  which  hour  in  summer,  and 
six  in  the  winter,  the  bell  called  them  to  supper :  where  all  the 
ceremonial  was  repeated  exactly  the  same  as  at  dinner.  After 
supper  they  were  again  at  liberty  till  eight,  when  the  bell  sum- 
moned them  all  into  the  oratory,  where  they  sang  a  hymn  to  the 
organ,  and  went  to  prayers  ;  when  the  children  asked  blessing 7 

7  Asked  blessing. ,]  Compare  above,  p.  182.  This  beautiful  and  pious  cus- 
tom, no  small  grace,  ornament,  and  blessing,  in  the  families  of  our  ancestors 
(compare  vol.  ii.  pp.  72,  73,  of  this  collection),  appears  to  have  received  its  first 
shock,  about  this  period,  and  during  the  Cromwellian  usurpation ;  an  interval 
in  which,  as  it  might  easily  be  shown,  a  considerable  portion  of  the  best  of 
our  old  English  manners,  and  many  practices,  which  were  themselves  part  of, 
and  instruments  of  piety,  were  exploded,  and  lost,  by  being  branded  under 
the  odious  name  of  popery.  "  The  having  of  god-fathers  at  baptism,  church- 
ing of  women,  prayers  at  the  burial  of  the  dead,  children  asking  their  parents' 
blessing,  &c.,  which  whilom  were  held  innocent  were  now  by  very  many  thrown 
aside,  as  rags  of  popery.  Nay,  are  not  some  gone  so  far  already,  as  to  cast 
into  the  same  heap,  not  only  the  ancient  hymn  Gloria  Patri  (for  the  repeating 
whereof  alone  some  have  been  deprived  of  all  their  livelihoods),  and  the 
Apostles'  Creed:  but  even  the  use  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  itself?" — Preface  to 
Sanderson's  Sermons,  dated  July  13,  1657,  p.  73,  edit.  1689.  Yet,  it  is  con- 
solatory to  find,  that  there  were  some  happy  families,  of  the  most  pious  and 
excellent  of  the  non-conformists,  who  were  not  deterred  by  that  malignant, 
senseless,  and  fatal  plea,  from  persevering  in  this  devotion  and  homage  to  the 
Father  of  Spirits,  so  congenial  to  his  temper  and  example,  who  commanded 
the  young  children  to  be  brought  unto  him,  who  blamed  those  that  would 
have  kept  them  from  him,  who  embraced  them  in  his  arms,  laid  his  hands 
upon  them  and  blessed  them.  "  Immediately  after  the  prayer  was  ended  " 


190  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

of  their  parents,  and  then  all  the  family  retired  to  their  re- 
spective apartments  ;  and  thus  ended  the  private  observation  of 
the  sabbath. 

On  the  first  Sunday  of  every  month  they  always  had  a  commu- 
nion, which  was  administered  by  the  clergyman  of  the  adjoining 
parish ;  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  assisting  as  deacon.  All  the  servants  who 
then  received  the  communion,  when  dinner  was  brought  up,  re- 
mained in  the  room,  and  on  that  day  dined  at  the  same  table  with 
Mrs.  Ferrar,  and  the  rest  of  the  family. 

That  I  may  not  be  thought  to  conceal  any  thing  which  brought 
censure  upon  them,  and  led  to  their  persecution,  I  will  here  insert 
the  particular  mode  of  their  processions,  and  other  circumstances 
which  were  condemned  by  some  as  being  superstitious.  I  shall 
not  pass  any  judgment  myself  on  these  ceremonials,  relating  mere 
matter  of  fact,  and  observing  only  that  where  there  was  error,  it 
was  error  on  the  side  of  virtue  and  goodness. 

When  their  early  devotions  in  the  oratory  were  finished  they 
proceeded  to  church  in  the  following  order : 

First,  the  three  school-masters,  in  black  gowns  and  Monmouth 
caps. 

Then,  Mrs.  Ferraris  grandsons,  clad  in  the  same  manner,  two 
and  two. 

Then  her  son  Mr.  J.  Ferrar,  and  her  son-in-law  Mr.  Collet,  in 
the  same  dress. 

Then,  Mr.  N.  Ferrar,  in  surplice,  hood,  and  square  cap,  some- 
times leading  his  mother. 

Then,  Mrs.  Collet,  and  all  her  daughters,  two  and  two. 

Then,  all  the  servants,  two  and  two.  The  dress  of  all  \\a-> 
uniform, 

Then,  on  Sundays,  all  the  psalm-children,  two  and  two. 

As  they  came  into  the  church,  every  person  made  a  low  obei- 
sance, and  all  took  their  appointed  places.  The  masters,  and 
gentlemen  in  the  chancel :  the  youths  knelt  on  the  tipper  step  of 
the  half  pace :  Mrs.  Ferrar,  her  daughters,  and  all  her  grand- 
fas  we  are  told  by  the  celebrated  Matthew  Henry,  in  the  life  of  his  father, 
Mr.  Philip  Henry),  "his  children  together, with  bended  knee, asked  blessings 
of  him  and  their  mother;  that  is,  desired  of  them  to  pray  to  God  to  bless 
them  ;  which  blessing  was  given  with  great  solemnity  and  affection  ;  and  if 
any  of  them  were  absent  they  were  remembered  ;  The  Lord  blfss  you  and 
your  brother  ;  or  you  and  your  sister  that  is  absent.'1  P.  56,  edit.  1699.  Com- 
pare Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iv.  p.  561,  2  ;  Sanderson,  ami  n. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  191 

daughters  in  a  fair  island-seat.  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  at  coming  in 
made  a  low  obeisance ;  a  few  paces  farther,  a  lower ;  and  at  the 
half-pace,  a  lower  still :  then  went  into  the  reading-desk,  and 
read  matins  according  to  the  book  of  common  prayer.  This  ser- 
vice over,  they  returned  in  the  same  order,  and  with  the  same 
solemnity.  This  ceremonial  was  regularly  observed  every  Sunday, 
and  that  on  every  common  day  was  nearly  the  same.  They  rose 
at  four  ;  at  five  went  to  the  oratory  to  prayers ;  at  six,  said  the 
psalms  of  the  hour,  (for  every  hour  had  its  appointed  psalms,) 
with  some  portion  of  the  gospel,  till  Mr.  Ferrar  had  finished  his 
Concordance,  when  a  chapter  of  that  work  was  substituted  in 
place  of  the  portion  of  the  gospel.  Then  they  sang  a  short  hymn, 
repeated  some  passages  of  Scripture,  and  at  half  past  six  went  to 
church  to  matins.  At  seven  said  the  psalms  of  the  hour,  sang 
the  short  hymn,  and  went  to  breakfast.  Then  the  young  people 
repaired  to  their  respective  places  of  instruction.  At  ten,  to 
church  to  the  litany.  At  eleven  to  dinner.  At  which  seasons 
were  regular  readings  in  rotation,  from  the  Scripture,  from  the 
book  of  martyrs,  and  from  short  histories  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Ferrar, 
and  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  moral  instruction.  Recreation  was 
permitted  till  one ;  instruction  was  continued  till  three.  Church 
at  four,  for  evensong ;  supper  at  five,  or  sometimes  six.  Diver- 
sions till  eight.  Then  prayers  in  the  oratory :  and  afterwards  all 
retired  to  their  respective  apartments.  To  preserve  regularity  in 
point  of  time,  Mr.  Ferrar  invented  dials  in  painted  glass  in  every 
room ;  he  had  also  sundials,  elegantly  painted  with  proper  mottos, 
on  every  side  of  the  church :  and  he  provided  an  excellent  clock 
to  a  sonorous  bell. 

The  short  histories  alluded  to  above  were  probably  composed 
on  the  occasion,  and  to  suit  some  present  purpose.  Those  which 
are  still  remaining  in  my  possession  are  put  together  without  any 
regularity  of  series,  or  any  dependance  of  one  upon  another,  and 
are  as  in  the  catalogue  annexed8. 

8  LIVES. 

[The  life  of  Monica.  Of  Dr.  Whitaker. 

Of  Abraham.  Of  Scaliger. 

Of  Elizer.  Of  Mr.  Perkins. 

Of  Lady  Paula.  Of  Dr.  Metcalf. 

Of  Hyldegardis.  Of  Sir  Fran.  Drake. 

Of  Paracelsus.  Of  Mr.  Cambden. 


192  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

These  lives,  characters,  and  moral  essays  would,  I  think,  fill 

Of  Haman.  Of  Gus.  Adolphus. 

Of  Wolsey.  Of  the  Black  Prince. 

Of  Brandon  D.  of  Suffolk.  Of  Joan  Q.  of  Naples. 

The  life  of  Ld.  Burleigh.  Of  the  Witch  of  Endor. 

Of  Sir  J.  Markham.  Of  Joan  of  Arc. 

Of  St.  Augustin.  Of  Caesar  Borgia. 

Of  Bp.  Ridley.  Of  Jehu. 

Of  L.  Jane  Grey.  Of  Andronicus  Comnenus. 

Of  Q.  Elizabeth.  Of  the  Duke  of  Alva. 

CHARACTERS. 

The  good  Wife.  The  good  Sea-Captain. 

The  good  Husband.  The  good  Herald. 

The  good  Parent.  The  true  Gentleman. 

The  good  Child.  The  Favourite. 

The  good  Master.  The  wise  Statesman. 

The  good  Servant.  The  good  Judge. 

The  good  Widow.  The  good  Bishop. 

The  constant  Virgin.  The  true  Nobleman. 

The  elder  Brother.  The  Court  Lady. 

The  younger  Brother.  The  Embassadour. 

The  good  Advocate.  The  good  General. 

The  good  Physician.  The  Heir  Apparent  to  the  Crown. 

The  controversial  Divines.  The  King. 

The  true  Church  antiquary.  The  Harlot. 

The  general  Artist.  The  Witch. 

The  faithful  Minister.  The  Atheist. 

The  good  Parishioner.  The  Hypocrite. 

The  good  Patron.  The  Heretic. 

The  good  Landlord.  The  rigid  Donatist. 

The  good  Mar  of  a  College.  The  Liar. 

The  good  Schoolmaster.  The  common  Barreter. 

The  good  Merchant.  The  degenerous  Gentleman. 

The  good  Yeoman.  The  Pazzians  Conspiracy  *. 

The  Handicrafts  Man.  The  Tyrant. 

The  good  Soldier. 

GENERAL  RULES,  OR  ESSAYS. 

CHAP.  CHAP. 

1.  Of  Hospitality.  3.  Of  Self-praising. 

2.  Of  Jesting.    '  4.  Of  Travelling. 

1  Paztiant  Conspiracy.]  The  conspiracy,  at  the  head  of  which  were  pope 
I IV,  and  his  nephew,  Girolamo  Riario,  which  was  formed  by  Francesco 
de'  Pazzi,  to  assassinate  Lorenzo  and  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  in  April,  14/8. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  193 

two  or  three  volumes  in  octavo 2.  They  are  but  a  small  part  of 
the  MS.  works  which  Mr.  Ferrar  left  behind  him,  which,  as 
appears  from  some  papers  still  existing,  amounted  to  five  volumes 
in  folio.  He  was  of  opinion  that  instruction  merely  by  precept 
might  sometimes  become  dry  and  wearisome,  and  therefore  was 
desirous  to  enliven  his  lectures  by  something  that  might  give 
pleasure  to  the  fancy  at  the  same  time  that  it  conveyed  wisdom 
to  the  heart.  But  he  had  great  objection  to  plays,  novels,  and 
romances,  and  to  poems,  that  were  then,  and  indeed  have  ever 
since  been  in  great  esteem-  He  thought  that  in  many  instances 
they  did  not  tend  to  the  important  point  which  he  had  in  view. 
But  he  reflected  also  that  our  Saviour  himself  frequently  delivered 
his  discourses  in  parables  ;  and  therefore  that  fable,  to  a  certain 
degree,  might  be  admitted  in  moral  instruction.  With  this  view 
he  composed  those  stories,  and  essays,  which  were  intended  to 
enliven  their  readings,  and  conversations.  Beside  these,  he  drew 
up  regular  discourses  upon  all  the  fasts  and  feasts  of  the  church, 
and  these  also  in  their  order  made  part  of  the  readings.  Every 
one  of  the  young  people,  from  the  eldest  to  the  youngest,  male 
and  female,  was  exercised  every  day  in  these  public  readings,  and 
repetitions :  by  which  the  memory  was  wonderfully  strengthened, 
and  they  all  attained  great  excellence  in  speaking  with  propriety 
and  grace. 

But  now  four  of  Mr.  Collet's  eldest  daughters  being  grown  up 
to  woman's  estate,  to  perfect  them  in  the  practice  of  good  house- 


CHAP.  CHAP. 

5.  Of  Company.  16.  Of  Plantations. 

6.  Of  Apparel.  17.  Of  Contentment. 

7.  Of  Building.  18.  Of  Books. 

8.  Of  Anger.  19.  Of  Time-serving. 

9.  Of  expecting  Preferment.  20.  Of  Moderation. 

10.  Of  Memory.  21.  Of  Gravity. 

11.  Of  Fancy.  22.  Of  Marriage. 

12.  Of  Natural  Fools.  23.  Of  Fame. 

13.  Of  Recreations.  24.  Of  the  antiquity  of  Churches,  and 

14.  Of  Tombs.  the  necessity  of  them. 

15.  Of  Deformities.  25.  Of  Ministers  Maintenance.] 

3  In  octavo."]  The  probability  however  is,  that  the  greater  part,  if  not  the 
whole  of  this  catalogue,  were  not  original,  but  extracts  :  as  Dr.  Peckard 
would  have  been  able  to  satisfy  himself  by  consulting  Fuller's  Holy  State, 
fol.,  where  many  of  the  titles  of  the  chapters  exactly  correspond  with  those 
in  this  catalogue. 

VOL.  iv.  o 


194  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

wifery,  Mr.  Ferrar  appointed  them  in  rotation  to  take  the  whole 
charge  of  the  domestic  oeconomy.  Each  had  this  care  for  a 
month,  when  her  accounts  were  regularly  passed,  allowed,  and 
delivered  over  to  the  next  in  succession.  There  was  also  the 
same  care  and  regularity  required  with  respect  to  the  surgeon's 
chest ;  and  the  due  provision  of  medicines  and  all  things  neces- 
sary for  those  who  were  sick,  or  hurt  by  any  misfortune.  A  con- 
venient apartment  was  provided  for  those  of  the  family  who 
chanced  to  be  indisposed,  called  the  infirmary,  where  they  might 
be  attended,  and  properly  taken  care  of,  without  disturbance 
from  any  part  of  the  numerous  family.  A  large  room  was  nl-o 
set  apart  for  the  reception  of  the  medicines,  and  of  those  who 
were  brought  in  sick,  or  hurt,  and  wanted  immediate  assistance. 
The  young  ladies  were  required  to  dress  the  wounds  of  those  who 
were  hurt,  in  order  to  give  them  readiness  and  skill  in  this 
employment,  and  to  habituate  them  to  the  virtues  of  humility 
and  tenderness  of  heart 3.  The  office  relative  to  pharmacy,  the 
weekly  inspection,  the  prescription,  and  administration  of  medi- 
cines, Mr.  Ferrar  reserved  to  himself,  being  an  excellent  physi- 
cian :  as  he  had  for  many  years  attentively  studied  the  theory, 
and  practice  of  medicine,  both  when  physic  fellow  at  Clare-hall, 
and  under  the  celebrated  professors  at  Padua.  In  this  way  \\  a> 
a  considerable  part  of  their  income  disposed  of,  and  thus  did  Mr. 
Ferrar  form  his  nieces  to  be  wise  and  useful,  virtuous,  and  valu- 
able women. 

3  Tenderness  of  heart.']  In  the  Reliques  of  ancient  English  poetry  we  read 
"  As  to  what  will  be  observed  in  this  ballad  (Sir  Cauline)  of  the  art  of  healing 
being  practised  by  a  young  princess,  it  is  no  more  than  what  is  usual  in  all 
the  old  romances,  and  was  conformable  to  real  manners  ;  it  being  a  practice 
derived  from  the  earliest  times  among  all  the  Gothic  and  Celtic  nations,  for 
women  even  of  the  highest  rank  to  exercise  the  art  of  surgery.  In  the 
northern  chronicles  we  always  find  the  young  damsels  stanching  the  wounds 
of  their  lovers,  and  the  wives  those  of  their  husbands.  And  even  so  late  as 
the  time  of  queen  Elizabeth  it  is  mentioned,  among  the  accomplishments  of 
the  ladies  of  her  court,  that  the  eldest  of  them  are  skilfull  in  surgery."- 
Rel.  of  Ant.  Eng.  Poetry.  Introd.  to  Sir  Cauline,  p.  39. 

"  I  could  set  down  the  ways  and  means  whereby  our  ancient  ladies  of  the 
court  do  shun  and  avoid  idleness,  while  the  youngest  sort  applie  to  their 
lutes,  citharnes,  prick-song,  and  all  kinds  of  music  :  how  many  of  the  eldest 
sort  also  are  skilfull  in  surgery,  and  distillation  of  waters,  &c.  I  might 
easily  declare,  but  I  pass  over  such  manner  of  dealing,  lest  I  should  seem  to 
glavcr,  and  currie  favour  with  some  of  them." — Harrison's  Descrip.  of  Eny. 
before  linllingshtad's  Chron.  p.  196,  col.  ii.  1.  Jo. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  195 

In  order  to  give  some  variety  to  this  system  of  education,  he 
formed  the  family  into  a  sort  of  collegiate  institution,  of  which 
one  was  considered  as  the  founder,  another  guardian,  a  third  as 
moderator,  and  himself  as  visitor  of  this  little  academy.  The 
seven  virgin  daughters  formed  the  junior  part  of  this  society,  were 
called  The  Sisters 4,  and  assumed  the  names  of,  1st.  The  Chief. 
2d.  The  Patient.  3d.  The  Chearful.  4th.  The  Affectionate. 
5th.  The  Submiss.  6th.  The  Obedient.  7th.  The  Moderate. 
These  all  had  their  respective  characters  to  sustain,  and  exercises 
to  perform  suited  to  those  characters. 

For  the  Christmas  season  of  the  year  1631,  he  composed  twelve 
excellent  discourses,  five  suited  to  the  festivals  within  the  twelve 
days,  and  seven  to  the  assumed  name  and  character  of  the  sis- 
ters. These  were  enlivened  by  hymns  and  odes  composed  by  Mr. 
Ferrar,  and  set  to  music  by  the  music  master  of  the  family,  who 
accompanied  the  voices  with  the  viol,  or  the  lute.  That  exercise 
which  was  to  be  performed  by  the  Patient,  is  alone  to  be  excepted. 
There  was  not  any  poetry,  or  music  at  the  opening  of  this  as 
of  all  the  rest :  the  discourse  itself  was  of  a  very  serious  turn,  it 
was  much  longer  than  any  other,  and  had  not  any  historical 
anecdote,  or  fable  interwoven  into  the  body  of  it.  The  con- 
trivance here  was  to  exercise  that  virtue  which  it  was  intended  to 
teach. 

Upon  the  whole,  these  and  many  other  dialogues,  conversa- 
tions, histories,  fables,  and  essays,  which  Nicholas  Ferrar  penned 
for  the  immediate  use  of  his  family,  and  left  behind  him  in  many 
large  volumes,  if  ever  the  world  should  be  so  happy  as  to  see 
them,  will  best  show  what  he  was,  a  man  every  way  so  complete, 
that  few  ages  have  brought  forth  his  equal ;  whether  we  con- 
sider his  vast  memory,  his  deep  judgment,  his  rare  contrivance, 
or  the  elegance  of  stile  in  the  matter,  and  manner  of  his  com- 
positions. 

Amongst  other  articles  of  instruction  and  amusement  Mr. 
Ferrar  entertained  an  ingenious  bookbinder  who  taught  the 
family,  females  as  well  as  males,  the  whole  art  and  skill  of  book- 
binding, gilding,  lettering,  and  what  they  called  pasting-printing, 
by  the  use  of  the  rolling-press.  By  this  assistance  he  composed 

4  The  Sisters."]  A  paper  of  "  Remains  of  the  Maiden- Sisters'  Exercises  at 
Little-Gidding "  is  given  by  Thos.  Hearne  in  his  Caii  Vindicia,  vol.  ii. 
pp.  713 — 94.  It  consists  principally  of  Discourses  and  Histories  suitable  to 
the  seasons  of  Lent,  Christmas,  and  Advent. 

o  2 


196  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

a  full  harmony,  or  concordance  of  the  four  evangelists,  adorned 
with  many  beautiful  pictures,  which  required  more  than  a  year 
for  the  composition,  and  was  divided  into  150  heads  or  chapters. 
For  this  purpose  he  set  apart  a  handsome  room  near  the  oratory. 
Here  he  had  a  large  table,  two  printed  copies  of  the  evangelists, 
of  the  same  edition,  and  great  store  of  the  best  and  strongest 
white  paper.  Here  he  spent  more  than  an  hour  every  day  in  the 
contrivance  of  this  book,  and  in  directing  his  nieces,  who  attended 
him  for  that  purpose,  how  they  should  cut  out  such  and  such 
particular  passages  out  of  the  two  printed  copies  of  any  part  of 
each  evangelist,  and  then  lay  them  together  so  as  to  perfect  such 
a  head  or  chapter  as  he  had  designed.  This  they  did  first  roughly, 
and  then  with  nice  knives  and  scissars  so  neatly  fitted  each  pas- 
sage to  the  next  belonging  to  it,  and  afterwards  pasted  them  so 
even  and  smoothly  together,  upon  large  sheets  of  the  best  white 
paper,  by  the  help  of  the  rolling-press,  that  many  curious  persons 
who  saw  the  work  when  it  was  done,  were  deceived,  and  thought 
that  it  had  been  printed  in  the  ordinary  way.  This  was  the 
mechanical  method  which  he  followed  in  compiling  his  harmony. 
The  title  of  his  book  *  was  as  foEows  : 

"The  Actions,  Doctrines,  and  other  passages  touching  our 
blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  J.  Christ,  as  they  are  related  in  the 
four  Evangelists,  reduced  into  one  compleat  body  of  history: 
wherein  that  which  is  severally  related  by  them  is  digested  into 
order ;  and  that  which  is  jointly  related  by  all  or  any  of  them  is, 
first,  expressed  in  their  own  words,  by  way  of  comparison ; 
secondly,  brought  into  one  narration  by  way  of  composition; 
thirdly,  extracted  into  one  clear  context  by  way  of  collection ; 
yet  so  as  whatsoever  was  omitted  in  the  context  is  inserted  by 
way  of  supplement  in  another  print,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  all 
the  four  evangelists  may  be  easily  read  severally  and  distinctly ; 
each  apart  and  alone  from  first  to  last :  and  in  each  page  through- 
out the  book  are  sundry  pictures  added,  expressing  either  the 
facts  themselves,  or  their  types  and  figures;  or  other  things 
Appertaining  thereunto.  The  whole  divided  into  150  heads." 

I  cannot  help  transcribing  here  a  passage  from  Dr.  Priestley's 
pn-face  to  his  Harmony  of  the  Evangelists.  "If  I  should  be 
thought  to  have  succeeded  better  than  the  generality  of  my  pre- 
decessors, I  shall  attribute  it  chiefly  to  the  mechanical 

s  His  book.']  See  p.  218. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  197 

I  made  use  of  in  the  arrangement  of  it ;  which  were  as  follow.  I 
procured  two  printed  copies  of  the  gospel,  and  having  cancelled 
one  side  of  every  sheet,  I  cut  out  all  the  separate  histories,  &c. 
in  each  gospel,  and  having  a  large  table  appropriated  to  that  use, 
I  placed  all  the  corresponding  parts  opposite  to  each  other,  and 
in  such  an  order  as  the  comparison  of  them  (which  when 
they  were  brought  so  near  together  was  exceedingly  easy) 
directed. 

"  In  this  loose  order  the  whole  harmony  lay  before  me  a  con- 
siderable time,  in  which  I  kept  reviewing  it  at  my  leisure,  and 
changing  the  places  of  the  several  parts  of  it,  till  I  was  as  well 
satisfied  with  the  arrangement  of  them,  as  the  nature  of  the  case 
would  admit.  I  then  fixed  the  places  of  all  these  separate  papers, 
by  pasting  them,  in  the  order  in  which  they  lay  before  me,  upon 
different  pieces  of  pasteboard,  carefully  numbered  and  by  this 
means  also  divided  into  sections." 

This  exact  agreement  in  contrivance  between  two  men  of  un- 
common genius  and  abilities,  with  respect  both  to  the  plan  and 
conduct  of  the  work  ;  men  living  at  a  hundred  and  sixty  years 
difference  of  time,  men  too  in  learning,  penetration,  and  judgment 
perfectly  qualified  for  so  arduous  an  undertaking,  affords  the 
strongest  presumptive  proof  of  the  excellence  of  the  method, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  highest  recommendation  of  it  to  the 
observation  and  practice  of  all  who  are  engaged  in  a  similar 
course  of  study. 

Several  of  the  harmonies  were  afterward  finished  upon  the 
same  plan  with  some  improvements :  one  of  these  books  was  pre- 
sented to  Mr.  Ferrar's  most  dear  and  intimate  friend,  the  well 
known  Mr.  Geo.  Herbert,  who  in  his  letter  of  thanks  for  it,  calls 
it  a  most  inestimable  jewel ;  another  was  given  to  his  other  sin- 
gular friend  Dr.  Jackson.  The  fame  of  this  work,  the  produc- 
tion of  a  man  so  celebrated  as  the  author  had  been,  soon  reached 
the  ears  of  the  king,  who  took  the  first  opportunity  to  make  him- 
self personally  acquainted  with  it,  by  obtaining  the  perusal  of  it. 

Mr.  Ferrar  about  this  time  wrote  several  very  valuable  trea- 
tises, and  made  several  translations  from  authors  in  different 
languages,  on  subjects  which  he  thought  might  prove  serviceable 
to  the  cause  of  religion.  Among  others,  having  long  had  a  high 
opinion  of  John  Valdesso's  Hundred  and  ten  Considerations 6,  &c. 

6  Hundred  and  ten  Considerations.]  See  note  at  p.  47. 


198  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

a  book  which  he  met  with  in  his  travels,  he  now  (in  1632)  trans- 
lated it  from  the  Italian  copy  into  English,  and  sent  it  to  be  exa- 
mined and  censured  by  his  friend  Mr.  Herbert,  before  it  was 
made  public.  Which  excellent  book  Mr.  Herbert  returned  with 
many  marginal  notes,  and  criticisms,  as  they  are  now  printed 
with  it ;  with  an  affectionate  letter  also  recommending  the  publi- 
cation. 

In  May,  1633,  his  majesty  set  out  upon  his  journey  to  Scot- 
land, and  in  his  progress  he  stepped  a  little  out  of  his  road  to 
view  Little  Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire,  which  by  the  common 
people  was  called  the  Protestant  Nunnery.  The  family  having 
notice,  met  his  majesty  at  the  extremity  of  the  parish,  at  a  place 
called,  from  this  event,  the  King's  Close :  and  in  the  form  of 
their  solemn  processions  conducted  him  to  their  church,  which 
he  viewed  with  great  pleasure.  He  enquired  into,  and  was  in- 
formed of  the  particulars  of  their  public,  and  domestic  oeconomy : 
but  it  does  not  appear  that  at  this  time  he  made  any  considerable 
stay.  The  following  summer  his  majesty  and  the  queen  passed 
two  nights  at  Apethorpe  in  Northamptonshire,  the  seat  of  Mild- 
may  Fane  earl  of  Westmoreland.  From  thence  he  sent  one  of 
his  gentlemen  to  intreat  (his  majesty's  own  word)  a  sight  of  The 
Concordance,  which,  he  had  heard,  was  some  time  since  done  at 
Gidding ;  with  assurance  that  in  a  few  days,  when  he  had  per- 
used it,  he  would  send  it  back  again.  Mr.  N.  Ferrar  was  then 
in  London,  and  the  family  made  some  little  demur,  not  thinking 
it  worthy  to  be  put  into  his  majesty's  hands ;  but  at  length  they 
delivered  it  to  the  messenger.  But  it  was  not  returned  in  a  few 
days,  or  weeks :  some  months  were  elapsed,  when  the  gentleman 
brought  it  back  from  the  king,  who  was  then  at  London.  He 
said  he  had  many  things  to  deliver  to  the  family  from  his  master. 
First,  to  yield  the  king's  hearty  thanks  to  them  all  for  the  sight 
of  the  book,  which  passed  the  report  he  had  heard  of  it.  Then 
to  signify  his  approbation  of  it  in  all  respects.  Next  to  excuse 
him  in  two  points.  The  first  for  not  returning  it  so  soon  as  he 
had  promised :  the  other  for  that  he  had  in  many  places  of  the 
-I'in  written  notes  in  it  with  his  own  hand.  And  (which  I 
know  will  please  you)  said  the  gentleman,  you  will  find  an  insta 
"f  my  master's  humility  in  one  of  the  margins.  The  place  I 
i>  \\  In  TO  he  had  written  something  with  his  own  hand,  and 
tin  n  put  it  out  again,  acknowledging  that  he  was  mistaken  in 
that  particular.  Certainly  this  was  .m  act  of  great  humility  in 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  199 

the  king,  and  worthy  to  be  noted ;  and  the  book  itself  is  much 
graced  by  it. 

The  gentleman  farther  told  them,  that  the  king  took  such  de- 
light in  it,  that  he  passed  some  part  of  every  day  in  perusing  it. 
And  lastly,  he  said,  to  show  you  how  true  this  is,  and  that  what 
I  have  declared  is  no  court  compliment,  I  am  expressly  com- 
manded by  my  master,  earnestly  to  request  of  you,  Mr.  Nicholas 
Ferrar,  and  of  the  young  ladies,  that  you  would  make  him  one  of 
these  books  for  his  own  use,  and  if  you  will  please  to  undertake 
it,  his  majesty  says  you  will  do  him  a  most  acceptable  service. 

Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar  and  the  young  ladies  returned  their  most 
humble  duty,  and  immediately  set  about  what  the  king  desired. 
In  about  a  year's  time  it  was  finished ;  and  it  was  sent  to  Lon- 
don to  be  presented  to  his  majesty  by  Dr.  Laud,  then  made  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  and  Dr.  Cosins,  master  of  Peterhouse, 
whose  turn  it  was  to  wait  that  month,  being  one  of  the  king^s 
chaplains.  This  book  was  bound  entirely  by  Mary  Collet  (one  of 
Mr.  Ferrar's  nieces)  all  wrought  in  gold,  in  a  new  and  most 
elegant  fashion. 

The  king  after  long  and  serious  looking  it  over,  said,  "  This  is 
indeed  a  most  valuable  work,  and  in  many  respects  worthy  to  be 
presented  to  the  greatest  prince  upon  earth.  For  the  matter  it 
contains  is  the  richest  of  all  treasures.  The  laborious  composure 
of  it  into  this  excellent  form  of  an  harmony ;  the  judicious  con- 
trivance of  the  method,  the  curious  workmanship  in  so  neatly 
cutting  out  and  disposing  the  text,  the  nice  laying  of  these  costly 
pictures,  and  the  exquisite  art  expressed  in  the  binding,  are,  I 
really  think,  not  to  be  equalled.  I  must  acknowledge  myself  to 
be  indeed  greatly  indebted  to  the  family  for  this  jewel :  and  what- 
ever is  in  my  power,  I  shall  at  any  time  be  ready  to  do  for  any 
of  them." 

Then  after  some  pause,  taking  the  book 7  into  his  hands  he 
said,  "  And  what  think  you,  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  and  you  Dr. 
Cosins,  if  I  should  ask  a  second  favour  of  these  good  people  2 
indeed  I  have  another  request  to  make  to  them,  and  it  is  this. 
I  often  read  over  the  lives  and  actions  of  the  kings  of  Judah 

7  Taking  the  book.~\  This,  and  another  of  these  books,  both  in  fine  preser- 
vation, are  still  extant  in  the  British  Museum  (as  I  am  obligingly  informed 
by  John  Holmes,  Esq.,  one  of  the  librarians,  to  whom  I  am  very  largely 
indebted,  in  the  entire  progress  of  this  third  edition  [1839]  through  the  press), 
and  is  part  of  the  royal  collection  given  by  king  George  II.  to  the  Museum, 
at  its  foundation.  See  pp.  218,  219. 


200  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

and  Israel  in  the  books  of  the  Kings,  and  the  Chronicles,  and  I 
frequently  meet  with  difficulties.  I  should  be  much  obliged  if 
Mr.  Ferrar  would  make  me  such  a  book  as  may  bring  all  these 
matters  together  into  one  regular  narration,  that  I  may  read  the 
whole  in  one  continued  story,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  may  be 
able  to  see  them  separate ;  or  what  belongs  to  one  book,  and 
what  to  another.  I  have  long  ago  moved  several  of  my  chap- 
lains to  undertake  this  business  :  but  it  is  not  done :  I  suppose  it 
is  attended  with  too  much  difficulty.  Will  you,  my  lord,  apply 
for  me  to  Mr.  Ferrar  V  The  archbishop  wrote  to  Mr.  Ferrar, 
acquainting  him  with  the  king's  desires  ;  and  Mr.  Ferrar  imme- 
diately set  himself  about  the  work. 

In  the  course  of  little  more  than  a  year,  about  Oct.  1636, 
Mr.  Ferrar  and  his  assistants  completed  the  harmony  of  the  two 
books  of  the  Kings  and  Chronicles,  and  young  Nicholas  Ferrar 
bound  it  in  purple  velvet,  most  richly  gilt.  It  was  sent  to  the 
archbishop  and  Dr.  Cosins,  to  be  by  them  presented  to  the  king. 
His  majesty  was  extremely  delighted  with  it,  saying,  "  it  was  a 
fit  mirror  for  a  king's  daily  inspection.  Herein,"  he  said,  "  I  shall 
behold  God's  mercies  and  judgments :  his  punishing  of  evil 
princes,  and  rewarding  the  good.  To  these  his  promises,  to 
those  his  threatenings  most  surely  accomplished.  I  have  a 
second  time  gained  a  great  treasure.  What  I  said  of  the  first 
book,  I  may  most  justly  say  of  this ;  and  I  desire  you  will  let 
them  know  my  high  esteem  both  of  it  and  of  them."  Dr.  Cosins 
then  presented  a  letter  from  Mr.  Ferrar,  which  the  king  declared 
he  thought  the  finest  composition  he  ever  read.  In  farther  dis- 
coursing of  these  harmonies  with  the  divines,  the  king  determined 
that  for  public  benefit  they  should  be  printed  under  his  own 
immediate  command  and  protection.  But  the  troubles  of  the 
ensuing  times  prevented  this  laudable  purpose  from  being  car- 
ried into  execution.  The  title  of  this  second  harmony  was  as 
follows  : 

"  The  History  of  the  Israelites  from  the  death  of  King  Saul, 
to  their  carrying  away  captive  into  Babylon  :  collected  out  of  the 
books  of  the  Kings,  and  Chronicles,  in  the  words  of  the  text, 
without  any  alteration  of  importance  by  addition  to  or  diminu- 
tion from  them.  Whereby,  first,  all  the  actions  and 
related  in  any  of  the  books  of  the  Kings  and  Chronicles,  whether 
jointly  or  severally,  are  reduced  into  the  body  of  one  complete 
narration.  Secondly,  they  are  digested  into  an  orderly  depend- 
ance  one  upon  the  other.  Thirdly,  many  difficult  places  are 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  201 

cleared,  and  many  seeming  differences  between  the  books  of 
Kings  and  Chronicles  compounded.  And  this  is  so  contrived,  as 
notwithstanding  the  mutual  compositions  of  the  books  into  one 
historical  collection,  yet  the  form  of  each  of  them  is  preserved 
entire,  in  such  a  manner  as  they  may  be  easily  read,  severally 
and  distinctly  from  first  to  last.  Together  with  several  tables. 
The  first,  summarily  declaring  the  several  heads  or  chapters  into 
which  the  historical  collection  is  divided.  The  second,  specifiying 
what  passages  are  related  severally  in  the  aforesaid  books,  and 
what  are  jointly  related  by  them  both  :  as  also  in  what  heads  and 
chapters  in  this  collection  they  may  be  found.  The  third,  shewing 
where  every  chapter  of  the  texts  themselves,  and  every  part  of 
them  may  be  readily  found  in  this  historical  collection." 

Fragments  of  one  copy  of  this,  and  some  other  of  the  harmo- 
nies, with  some  of  the  prints  belonging  to  them,  and  the  three 
tables  specified  in  the  title  above,  have  lately  been  found  among 
the  old  MSS.  of  the  family :  but  very  much  disjointed  and  con- 
fused, and  considerably  hurt  by  time  and  other  injuries. 

These  are  probably  the  last  works  of  this  sort,  executed  by 
Mr.  Ferrar,  who  died  in  little  more  than  a  year,  and  was  very 
weak  and  infirm  a  considerable  time  before  his  death.  But  the 
connexion  between  the  king  and  this  family  did  not  cease  on  Mr. 
Ferrar's  death.  For  it  appears  from  several  papers  still  in  being, 
that  there  was  what  may  be  justly  called  a  friendly  intercourse 
subsisting  even  till  the  distressful  year  1646.  For  during  this 
interval,  and  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Ferrar,  other  harmonies  of 
other  parts  of  the  Scripture  were  drawn  up  by  Nicholas  Ferrar 
jun.  upon  the  plan  of  his  uncle,  by  the  particular  direction  of  the 
king,  for  the  use  of  the  prince ;  and  were  to  him  presented  in  the 
years  1639, 1641,  and  at  other  times.  This  extraordinary  young 
man  was  particularly  favoured  by  the  king,  who  had  undertaken 
to  send  him  to  Oxford  under  his  own  immediate  protection ;  and 
to  take  upon  himself  the  care  and  expence  of  completing  his 
education.  But  his  ill  state  of  health  which  ended  in  an  early 
death,  prevented  the  execution  of  this  benevolent  intention.  The 
particular  memorials 8  of  this  intercourse  were  probably  lost  in 
the  ensuing  distractions. 

On  the  27th  of  April,  in  that  fatal  year  (1646)  the  king  left 

8  The  particular  memorials.']  These  memorials,  the  subject  deservedly  of 
Dr.  Peckard's  repeated  regret,  have  happily  been  preserved,  and  are  now 
published  here  from  a  MS.  (No.  251)  in  the  Lambeth  Library. 


202  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Oxford.  Being  unresolved  how  to  dispose  of  himself,  he  shifted 
about  from  place  to  place,  with  his  trusty  chaplain,  Dr.  Hudson, 
and  at  length  came  to  Downham  in  Norfolk.  From  thence  he 
came  on  May  the  2nd  very  privately  and  in  the  night  to  Gidding. 
Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar  had  been  dead  several  years.  But  the  king 
having  an  entire  confidence  in  the  family,  made  himself  known  to 
Mr.  John  Ferrar,  who  received  his  majesty  with  all  possible  duty 
and  respect.  But  fearing  that  Gidding,  from  the  known  loyalty 
of  the  family,  might  be  a  suspected  place,  for  better  concealment 
he  conducted  his  majesty  to  a  private  house  at  Coppinford,  an 
obscure  village  at  a  small  distance  from  Gidding,  and  not  far 
from  Stilton.  Here  the  king  slept,  and  went  from  thence,  May 
3,  to  Stamford,  where  he  lodged  one  night,  staid  till  eleven  the 
next  night,  and  from  thence  went,  on  May  5,  to  the  Scotch  army. 

Of  the  king's  coming  at  this  time  in  this  state  of  distress 
to  Gidding,  I  collect  from  various  authorities  the  following 
evidence. 

In  the  examination  of  Dr.  Michael  Hudson,  taken  May  16, 
1646,  before  Henry  Dawson,  esq.  deputy  mayor  of  Newcastle 
upon  Tyne,  he  deposes  that  he  came  from  Oxford  on  Monday 
morning  about  3  o'clock,  April  27 ;  and  that  his  majesty,  Mr. 
Ashburnham,  and  himself,  made  use  of  an  old  pass,  which  they 
had  gotten  from  an  officer  in  Oxford.  That  they  went  first  to 
Dorchester,  then  to  Henley,  Maidenhead,  and  so  on  the  road 
toward  London :  but  he  refused  to  say  where  the  king  lodged  on 
Monday  night.  That  when  they  turned  to  go  northward,  his 
majesty  lodged  Tuesday,  Ap.  28,  at  Whethamstead  near  to  St. 
Albans.  That  from  thence  his  majesty  went  to  a  small  village 
within  seven  miles  from  Newmarket,  and  lodged  in  a  common 
inn,  Wednesday  29.  From  thence  they  went  to  a  place  called 
Downham,  where  his  majesty  lodged,  Thursday,  30.  From 
thence  to  Coppinford,  where  his  majesty  lodged,  Friday,  May  1. 
From  thence  to  Stamford,  May  2,  where  they  stayed  till  midnight. 
May  3.  Went  from  thence,  Monday,  May  4,  and  came  to  the 
Scotch  army,  Tuesday,  May  5. 

This  is  the  substance  of  the  examination  of  Dr.  Hudson  con- 
(•••ruing  the  king's  journey  from  Oxford  to  the  Scotch  army  9. 

•  Scotch  army.]  [Michael  Hudson  was  born  in  Westmoreland,  and  edu- 
cated in  Queen's  college,  Oxford.  In  1630  he  was  made  fellow  of  that  col- 
lege. He  was  afterwards  beneficed  in  Lincolnshire.  But  when  the  king  set 
up  his  standard  he  left  his  benefice  and  adhered  to  him.  After  the  battle  at 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  203 

In  the  letter  from  Miles  Corbett  and  Valentine  Walton  to 
Mr.  Lenthall  the  speaker,  directed,  Haste,  Haste,  Post  Haste, 
the  account  agrees  with  the  examination  of  Dr.  Hudson,  with 
respect  to  the  king's  coming  with  Hudson  to  Downham,  and 
lodging  there  on  Thursday  the  last  day  of  April,  but  states  that 
they  cannot  learn  where  they  were  on  Friday  night.  It  after- 
wards mentions  several  particular  circumstances,  as  their  being 
at  a  blind  alehouse  at  Crimplesham  about  eight  miles  from  Lynn, 
and  the  king's  being  in  a  parson's  habit,  and  changing  his  black 
coat  and  cassock  for  a  grey  one  procured  by  Mr.  Skipwith ;  and 
that  his  majesty  bought  a  new  hat  at  Downham.  But  these 
particulars  seemed  to  be  delivered  more  from  hearsay  accounts, 
than  regular  evidence.  The  main  purport  of  this  letter  confirms 
the  deposition  in  Dr.  Hudson's  examination,  that  the  king 
certainly  was  at  Downham,  on  the  last  of  April,  or  the  first  of 
May  :  and  in  fact  he  was  there  on  both  days,  coming  to  that 
place  on  the  last  of  April,  and  leaving  it  on  the  first  of  May. 

Mr.  Ferrar's  MS.  asserts  that  the  king  came  very  privately  to 
Gidding,  May  2.  Dr.  Hudson  says  the  king  slept  at  Coppinford, 

Edge-hill  he  retired  to  Oxford,  and  in  February,  1642,  was  created  D.D.  and 
made  chaplain  to  his  majesty.  Soon  after,  he  had  an  important  employment 
in  the  army,  in  the  north,  under  the  command  of  the  marquis  of  Newcastle. 
On  the  8th  of  June,  1646,  he  was  discovered  at  Rochester,  brought  to  Lon- 
don, and  committed  prisoner  to  London-house.  On  Nov.  18,  he  escaped 
from  his  prison,  and  in  January  following  he  was  retaken,  and  committed 
close  prisoner  to  the  Tower.  He  escaped  also  from  thence  in  the  beginning 
of  1648.  On  the  6th  of  June  that  year,  intelligence  was  brought  to  the  par- 
liament that  the  royalists  were  in  arms  in  Lincolnshire,  under  the  command 
of  Dr.  Hudson  ;  and  two  days  after,  information  came  from  col.  Tho.  Waite 
that  he  had  suppressed  the  insurrection  of  malignants  at  Stamford,  in  Lin- 
colnshire, and  had  killed  their  commander,  Dr.  Hudson. 

The  circumstances  of  his  death  were  attended  with  peculiar  barbarity.  He 
fled  with  the  chief  of  his  party  to  Woodcroft-house,  near  Peterborough.  The 
house  being  forced,  and  most  of  the  royalists  taken,  Hudson,  with  some  of 
the  most  courageous,  went  to  the  battlements,  where  they  defended  them- 
selves for  some  time.  At  length,  upon  promise  of  quarter,  they  yielded ;  but 
when  they  had  so  done,  the  promise  of  quarter  was  broken.  Hudson  being 
thrown  over  the  battlements,  caught  hold  of  a  spout,  or  out-stone,  and  there 
hung  :  but  his  hands  being  cut  off,  he  fell  into  the  moat  underneath,  much 
wounded,  and  desired  to  come  on  land  to  die  there.  As  he  approached  the 
shore,  one  of  his  enemies  beat  his  brains  out  with  the  butt  end  of  his  musket. 
See  A.  Wood,  vol.  ii.  col.  113.  See  also  the  interesting  papers  in  Peck's 
Desiderata  Curiosa,  b.  ix.  vol.  ii.  p.  347 — 81.  On  this  sir  Walter  Scott  has 
founded  the  story  of  Dr.  Rochecliffe  in  "  Woodstock." 


204  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

May  1.  These  two  accounts  may  easily  be  reconciled.  Dr. 
Hudson  reckons  the  night,  or  time  of  his  majesty"^  lodging  and 
sleeping,  as  belonging  to  the  preceding  day,  on  which  he  came 
from  Downham  or  Crimplesham,  which  was  May  the  first.  But 
as  the  king  came  very  privately  to  Gidding,  and  in  the  very  dead 
of  the  night ;  and  as  it  must  necessarily  require  some  time  to 
provide  for  his  lodging  at  Coppinford,  this  would  of  course  break 
into  the  morning  of  May  the  2nd :  and  Mr.  Ferrar  might  with 
equal  propriety  say  that  the  king  came  very  privately  to  Gidding, 
and  that  he  conducted  his  majesty  to  sleep  at  Coppinford,  May  2. 
These  circumstances  must  awaken  the  compassion  10  of  every 
feeling  heart,  even  amongst  those  who  are  disposed  to  lay  the 
heaviest  load  of  blame  upon  the  king  :  since  they  are  mentioned 
not  as  an  insinuation  that  he  was  free  from  faults,  or  as  an 
extenuation  of  those  with  which  he  might  be  justly  charged :  but 
as  a  proof  of  very  affecting  distress,  and  a  strong  instance  of  the 
instability  of  worldly  greatness.  He  had  his  faults ;  and  who  hath 
not  ?  but  let  it  be  remembered  that  there  were  virtues  to  set  in 
the  balance  against  them. 

I  have  been  anxious  to  ascertain  this  point,  from  a  desire  to 
make  it  known  beyond  all  doubt,  what  was  the  very  last  place 
where  this  most  unfortunate  prince  was  in  the  hands  of  those 
whom  he  might    safely  trust,  and  under  the  protection  of  an 
honest  and  confidential  friend;    and  that   this   place    was  the 
residence,  and  now  contains  the  remains  of  that  worthy  person  to 
whose  memory  these  pages  are  devoted. 

In  fitting  up  the  house  at  Gidding,  moral  sentences,  and  short 
passages  from  the  Scriptures  "  had  been  put  up  in  various  places ; 
and  in  the  great  parlour  was  an  inscription  which  gave  rise  to 

10  Awaken  the  compassion.']  The  distresses  of  this  unhappy  monarch,  inde- 
pendently of  the  last  bloody  scene  of  the  tragedy,  excited  much  commiseration 
in  the  English  hearts  even  of  many  who  never  sided  amongst  his  partizans  in 
the  war.  We  are  told  in  the  Life  of  Mr.  Thomas  Rosewell,  afterwards  a 
dissenting  minister,  and  who  was  found  guilty  of  treason  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.,  that  "travelling  a  little  from  home,  he  accidentally  saw  king 
Charles  the  First,  in  the  fields,  sitting  at  dinner  under  a  tree,  with  some  few 
persons  about  him.  This  made  such  deep  impressions  in  his  young  and 
tender  mind,  as  disposed  him  to  the  greater  compassion  and  loyalty  towards 
that  unhappy  monarch." —  Trial  of  Mr.  Thomas  Rosewell,  p.  5. 

II  Passages  from  the  Scriptures.']  This  was  according  to  a  practice  intro- 
duced, both  into  houses  and  churches,  about  the  time  of  the  Reformation. 

"  Christophor.    I  am  loth  to  go  so  soone  out  of  this  your  hall,  which 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  205 

much  speculation  and  censure.    It  was  nevertheless  first  approved 
of  by  several  judicious  divines,  and  particularly  by  Mr.  Herbert, 

feedeth  mine  eies  with  so  many  godly  and  goodly  spectacles.  Philemon. 
Why  is  here  any  thing  that  you  thinke  worthy  to  be  looked  upon  ?  Chris- 
toph.  Every  thing  is  here  so  pleasaunte  and  comfortable  to  the  eye  of  a 
Christian  man,  that  he  being  in  this  haull  may  justlye  seeme  to  be  in  a 
delectable  paradise,  I  had  almost  sayd  in  another  heaven.  For  here  is 
nothing  dumme  :  all  things  speake.  Theophile.  I  pray  you  what  is  there 
written  upon  your  parclose  dore  ?  Philem.  The  saying  of  Christ,  I  am  the 
dore  ;  by  me  if  any  man  entreth  in,  he  shall  be  safe,  and  shall  goe  in  and  out, 
and  shall  find  pasture.  This  is  done  to  put  me  and  my  householde  in 
remembrance  that  Christ  is  the  dore  by  whome  we  must  enter  into  the 
favour  of  God.  Eusebius.  This  is  Christenly  done.  What  is  this,  that  is 
written  upon  your  chimney  ?  Phil.  The  saying  of  the  prophete  Esay,  The 
fire  of  them  shall  not  be  quenched.  Christ.  This  is  a  terrible  and  hard 
saying.  Phil.  I  have  paynted  this  sentence  in  that  place,  that  as  the  other 
fixed  upon  the  dore  maketh  me  to  rejoyse  and  to  put  my  whole  afiyaunce  in 
Christ,  so  this  in  like  manner  should  absterre  and  feare  me  and  mine  from 
doying  evil  whan  by  lookyng  on  this  text  we  consider  with  ourselves  the 
unquenchable  flames  of  hell  fier. — Euseb.  What  have  ye  there  written 
in  your  window  ?  Philem.  Christes  saying  in  the  Gospel  of  S.  John,  I  am 
the  light  of  the  world.  He  that  followeth  me  walketh  not  in  darkness,  but 
shall  have  the  light  of  life.  Theoph.  Your  table  also,  me  thinke,  speaketh. 
Philem.  Herein  is  graven  the  saying  of  Christ,  Blessed  is  he  that  eateth 
bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  This  is  to  admonish  us,  that  we  should 
not  have  all  our  pleasure  in  eating,  drinking,  and  banketing  after  the  maner 
of  Epicures,  but  rather  desier  so  to  live  in  this  world,  that  after  this  life  we 
may  be  fed  in  the  joyful  kingdom  of  God  by  enjoying  the  most  glorious 
sight  of  the  divine  majestie.  Euseb.  What  have  ye  paynted  over  youre 
table  ?  Philem.  The  sayinge  of  the  prophete  Esay,  yea  rather  the  com- 
maundement  of  God  by  his  prophet,  Breake  thy  bread  to  the  hungry,  and 
leade  in  the  needy  and  way-faring  into  thy  house.  Euseb.  I  pray  you  what  is 
that  your  chaires  and  stoles  have  carved  on  them  ?  Philem.  A  saying  of 
Christ  in  the  Revelation  of  John  ;  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit 
with  me  in  my  throne.  It  is  not  unknowen  to  you,  I  am  sure,  how  com- 
fortable a  thing  it  is  for  a  wery  body  to  sit,  and  to  have  a  restyng  place. 
Certes  it  is  a  thousande  times  more  comfortable  to  have  a  place  where  body 
and  soule  after  so  many  great  and  daungerous  conflicts  in  this  miserable 
worlde,  may  quietly  rest.  Therefore  have  I  wrytten  this  texte  on  my  chayres 
and  stoles,  to  put  me  and  myne  in  remembrance,  that  if  we  will  find  rest 
after  this  life,  we  must  seriously  not  dally,  but  fighte  with  Satan  our  enemy." 
The  cup,  the  dishes,  the  laver,  the  virginals,  the  door  posts,  all  had  their 
respective  superscriptions  in  the  house  of  Philemon,  which  are  recounted  in 
the  progress  of  the  Dialogue.  The  last  instance  mentioned,  is  the  following : 
"  Euseb.  I  pray  you  what  two  great  tables  have  you  hanging  there  openly  ? 
Phil.  This  is  the  table  of  the  Ten  Commaundements,  which  teacheth  us  what 
we  ought  to  do,  and  what  to  eschewe.  The  other  is  a  table  also  which  con- 
taineth  in  it  the  offices  of  all  degrees  and  estates.  It  teacheth  us  what  we 


206 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 


who  advised  it  to  be  engraved  in  brass,  and  so  hung  up  that  it 
might  be  seen  of  all.  But  calumny  was  now  gone  forth,  and 
nothing  could  be  done  at  Gidding  that  was  not  subjected  to  the 
severest  misrepresentation.  The  inscription  was  as  follows : 

IHS 


HE  who  (by  reproof  of  our  errors, 
and  remonstrance  of  that  which  is 
more  perfect)  seeks  to  make  us 
better,  is  welcome  as  an  Angel  of 
God. 

He  who  any  ways  goes  about  to 
disturb  us  in  that  which  is  and 
ought  to  be  amongst  Christians 
(tho*  it  be  not  usual  in  the  world) 
is  a  burden  whilst  he  stays  and 
shall  bear  his  judgment  whoso- 
ever he  be. 


I  HE  who  (by  a  cheerful  partici- 
pation of  that  which  is  good)  con- 
-n-iiu  s  firms  us  in  the  same,  is  welcome 
as  a  Christian  Friend. 


But 


And 


HE  who  faults  us  in  absence  for 
that  which  in  presence  he  made 
shew  to  approve  of,  doth  by  a 
double  guilt  of  flattery  and  slan- 
der violate  the  bands  both  of 
friendship  and  charity. 


MARY  FERRAR,  Widow, 
Mother  of  this  Family, 

aged  fourscore  years, 

(who  bids  adieu  to  all  fears  and  hopes  of  this  world,  and  only 
desires  to  serve  God) 
set  up  this  Table. 


The  extraordinary  course  of  life  pursued  at  Gidding,  the  strict- 

owe  to  our  most  noble  Prince,  to  our  parentes,  and  to  all  superioures.  In 
this  table  every  man  from  the  highest  degree  to  the  lowest  may  learne  his 
office  and  duety.  Therefore  are  these  two  tables  red  every  day  openly  in  my 
house  :  my  wife  and  children,  with  all  my  servaunts  beyng  called  thereunto, 
and  giving  attendance  diligently  to  the  reading  of  the  same.  If  any  of  my 
houshold  transgresse  any  parcel  of  God's  lawe,  he  is  brought  streight  way  to 
these  tables,  and  by  them  is  his  faulte  declared  unto  hym.  This  is  the  order 
of  my  house.  Other  correccion  than  this  use  I  none  :  yet  notwithstanding  I 
thanke  my  Lord  God,  all  doe  theyr  duety  so  well,  that  I  cannot  wish  it  to  be 
done  better."  Becon's  Christmasse  Banket,  Works,  vol.  i.  fol.  17,  A.D.  1564. 
See  also  fol.  34.  In  the  reign  of  queen  Mary  all  the  texts  of  Scripture  which 
had  been  written  on  the  walls  of  churches  were  commanded  by  authority  to 
be  blotted  out  and  defaced.  See  Becon's  Works,  vol.  iii.  fol.  176.  b.  and 
's  Eccles.  Memorials,  vol.  iii.  p.  57. 

rrar's  friend,  George  Herbert,  speaking  of  the  country  par- 
sonage :  "  Even  the  walls  are  not  idle,  but  something  is  written  or  painted 
there,  which  may  excite  the  reader  to  a  thought  of  piety ;  especially  the 
101st  Psalm,  which  is  expressed  in  a  fair  table,  as  being  the  rule  of  a  family." 
A  Priest  to  the  Temple,  chap.  x. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  207 

ness  of  their  rules,  their  prayers,  literally  without  ceasing,  their 
abstinence,  mortifications,  nightly  watchings,  and  various  other 
peculiarities,  gave  birth  to  censure  in  some,  and  inflamed  the 
malevolence  of  others,  but  excited  the  wonder  and  curiosity  of 
all.  So  that  they  were  frequently  visited l  with  different  views  by 
persons  of  all  denominations,  and  of  opposite  opinions.  They 
received  all  who  came  with  courteous  civility ;  and  from  those 
who  were  inquisitive  they  concealed  nothing :  for  in  truth  there 
was  not  any  thing  either  in  their  opinions  or  their  practice  that 
was  in  the  least  degree  necessary  to  be  concealed.  Whether  their 
conduct  was  a  subject  of  admiration  or  of  imitation  is  a  distinct 
enquiry,  which  at  present  there  is  not  any  occasion  to  enter  upon. 
They  were  at  the  time,  notwithstanding  all  the  real  good  they  did, 
severally  slandered  and  vilified :  by  some  they  were  abused  as 
papists ;  by  others  as  puritans.  Mr.  Ferrar  himself,  though  pos- 

1  Frequently  visited.]  "The  nearest  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood  was  a 
Roman  Catholic :  yet  he  and  his  lady  often  visited  Gidding,  without  any 
pressing  expectations  to  be  paid  those  respects  in  the  same  kind,  by  a  family 
so  constantly  better  employed  than  in  returning  visits  of  compliment.  Be- 
sides, the  master  of  their  morals  used  to  warn  them  all,  but  especially  the 
younger  people  under  his  care,  '  that  he  is  wise  and  good,  and  like  to  con- 
tinue so,  that  keeps  himself  out  of  temptation.' 

"  One  day  his  neighbour  brought  with  him  to  Gidding,  three  learned  priests 
of  his  own  religious  communion;  one  of  them  a  celebrated  writer  for  the 
church  of  Rome ;  all  of  them  full  of  curiosity  to  sound  a  man  of  such  depth 
of  learning,  of  such  an  excellent  understanding,  and  of  so  great  piety,  as 
rumour  had  attached  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Ferrar.  He  did  not  decline 
engaging  with  them ;  in  which  he  was  upon  a  vast  advantage  above  ordinary 
managers  of  similar  controversies,  having  in  his  travels,  with  his  own  eyes, 
seen  their  practices,  and  made  it  so  much  his  business  to  compare  them  with 
their  pretences.  The  conference  was  spun  out  to  a  great  length  j  it  was  sup- 
ported on  all  hands  with  equal  temper,  and  with  such  acuteness  too,  as  not  to 
leave  the  question  where  they  found  it.  They  traversed  every  essential  point 
of  difference  between  protestant  and  papist,  and  parted  upon  such  terms  as 
were  proper  for  men  who  desired  at  least  to  maintain  the  communion  of 
charity  with  each  other. 

"  One  of  them  afterwards  related  that  he  had  *  seen  Little  Gidding,  the 
place  so  much  in  every  body's  mouth ;'  that  '  they  found  the  master  of  the 
house  another  kind  of  man  than  they  expected  :  a  deep  and  solid  man,  of  a 
wonderful  memory,  sharp-witted,  and  of  a  flaming  eloquence :  one  who, 
besides  his  various  reading,  spoke  out  of  experience,  with  insight  into  things, 
as  well  as  books.9  In  conclusion,  he  was  heard  to  say,  that  this  man,  if  he 
lived  to  make  himself  known  to  the  world,  would  give  their  church  her  hands 
full  to  answer  him,  and  trouble  them  in  another  manner  than  Luther  had 
done."— Brief  Memoirs  of  Nicholas  Ferrar  (from  bishop  Turner,  &c.)  p.  133, 4. 


208  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

sessed  of  uncommon  patience,  and  resignation,  yet  in  anguish  of 
spirit  complained  to  his  friends,  that  the  perpetual  obloquy  he 
endured  was  a  sort  of  unceasing  martyrdom 2. 

Hence  violent  invectives,  and  inflammatory  pamphlets  were 
published  against  them.  Amongst  others,  not  long  after  Mr. 
Ferraris  death,  a  treatise 3  was  addressed  to  the  parliament,  en- 

2  Unceasing  martyrdom.']  "  He  was  so  exercised  with  contradictions,  as  no 
man  that  lived  so  private  as  he  desired  to  do,  could  possibly  be  more.     I 
have  heard  him  say,  valuing,  not  resenting,  his  own  sufferings,  in  this  kind, 
that  to  fry  a  faggot  was  not  more  martyrdom,  than  continual  obliquy.     He  was 
torn  asunder  as  with  mad  horses,  or  crushed  betwixt  the  upper  and  under 
milstone  of  contrary  reports;   that  he  was  a  Papist,  and  that  he  was  a 
Puritan.     What  is,  if  this  be  not,  to  be  sawn  asunder  as  Esay,  stoned  as 
Jeremy,  made  a  drum,  or  tympanized,  as  other  saints  of  God  were !     And 
after  his  death,  when  by  injunction,  which  he  laid  upon  his  friends  when  he 
lay  on  his  death  bed,  a  great  company  of  comedies,  tragedies,  love  hymns, 
heroical  poems,  &c.  were  burnt  upon  his  grave,  as  utter  enemies  to  Chris- 
tian principles  and  practices,  (that  was  his  brand)  some  poor  people  said, 
He  was  a  conjuror."     Oley's  Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert,  prefixed  to  his 
Country  Parson. 

3  A  treatise.]    The  history  of  this  treatise,  which  had  no  little  effect  at 
the  time  when  it  first  appeared,  and  which  has  not  been  without  some  in- 
fluence in  our  own  times,  is  curious.     Sir  Thomas  Hetley  or  Hedley,  knight, 
a  lawyer  of  some  note,  who,  with  Heneage  Finch,  and  others,  on  the  26th 
June,  1623,  had  been  made  serjeant-at-law,  was  desirous  of  learning  some 
particulars  as  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Ferrars  family  at  Gidding,  which  was 
not  very  distant  from  Brampton,  where  he  possessed  some  property.     He 
therefore  requested  his  friend  and  relation,  Edward  Lenton,  (of  Gray's  Inn 
and  of  Notley,  or  Noctele  Abbey,  in  Buckinghamshire,  near  Thame,)  to  visit 
Gidding  for  that  purpose.     Some  time  in  the  year  1635,  Edward  Lenton  went 
there,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  sir  T.  Hetley,  intituled,  "  Letter  to  Sir  Thomas 
Hetley,  knt.,  serjeant-at-lawe,  vpon  his  request,  to  certifie  as  I  found  concerninge 
the  reputed  nunnerie  at  Giddinge,  in  Huntingdonshire,"  giving  a  very  favourable 
account  of  the  Ferrars  family,  and  of  their  proceedings.     This  was  circulated 
in  manuscript,  the  temper  of  the  times  not  being  very  favourable  to  its  ap- 
pearance in  print.     The  author's  name  was  not  given,  and  it  appears  to  have 
been  purposely  concealed.     The  British  Museum  possesses  several  contem- 
porary copies,  one  of  which  is  said  to  be  "  by  a  friend  :"  another  has  the 
initials  "  H.  S."  The  Letter  was  first  printed  by  Thomas  Hearne,  in  his  edition 
of  Peter  Langtoft's  Chronicle,  Oxford,  1725,  vol.  i.  p.  cix.,  "from  a  MS.  lent  to 
the  publisher  on  July  6th,  1724,  by  Thomas  Ward,  of  Longbridge,  near 

ick,  esq.,"  which  MS.  was  signed  "H.  S.j"  and  it  was  again  printed 
by  Hearne,  with  the  author's  real  name,  in  his  edition  of  Th.  Caii  Vindicite 
Academic  Oxonienxis,  Oxford,  1730,  vol.  ii.  p.  702.  It  will  also  be  found  at 
the  end  of  the  present  life,  p.  251. 

But  although  Lenton  did  not  venture  to  print  his  letter  to  Hetley,  others 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  209 

titled,  The  Arminian  Nunnery,  or  a  brief  description  and  relation 
of  the  late  erected  monastical  place,  called  the  Arminian  Nunnery 
at  Little  Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire :  humbly  addressed  to  the 
wise  consideration  of  the  present  parliament.  The  foundation  is  by 
a  company  of  Ferrars  at  Gidding.  Printed  for  Tho.  Underhill, 
1641. 

In  which  production  there  is  nothing  but  falshood,  or  what  is 
much  worse,  truth  wilfully  so  mangled  and  misrepresented  as  to 
answer  the  vilest  ends  of  falshood.  And  this  sort  of  malignity 
was  carried  to  such  a  length,  that  not  long  before  the  real  tragedy 
of  king  Charles  was  perpetrated,  certain  soldiers  of  the  parliament 
party  resolved  to  plunder  the  house  at  Gidding.  The  family  being 
informed  of  their  hasty  approach,  thought  it  prudent  to  fly,  and, 
as  to  their  persons,  endeavour  to  escape  the  intended  violence. 

These  military  zealots,  in  the  rage  of  what  they  called  reforma- 
tion, ransacked  both  the  church  and  the  house.  In  doing  which 
they  expressed  a  particular  spite  against  the  organ.  This  they 
broke  in  pieces,  of  which  they  made  a  large  fire,  and  thereat 
roasted  several  of  Mr.  Ferrar's  sheep,  which  they  had  killed  in 
his  grounds.  This  done  they  seized  all  the  plate,  furniture,  and 
provision  which  they  could  conveniently  carry  away.  And  in  this 
general  devastation  perished  those  works  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar, 
which  merited  a  better  fate. 

Certainly  no  family  suffered  more  from  less  cause  of  offence : 
for  though  they  were  pious  and  firm  members  of  the  church  of 

were  not  so  scrupulous.  A  transcript  fell  into  the  hands  of  some  zealous,  but 
unprincipled  puritan,  who  interpolated  his  own  observations,  and  otherwise 
falsified  it,  and  printed  it  under  the  title  (given  above)  of  "  The  Arminian  Nun- 
nery, fyc."  1641,  with  a  rude  wood-cut,  on  the  title  page,  of  a  nun  and  a 
church.  This  pamphlet  is  now  very  rare,  but  copies  are  in  the  British 
Museum  and  Bodleian  libraries,  and  the  former  possesses  a  transcript  made 
by  Humphrey  Wanley,  from  a  copy  belonging  to  Dr.  Charlcott,  master  of 
University  College.  It  has  been  reprinted  by  Hearne,  in  his  edition  of  "Peter 
Langtoffs  Chronicle,"  Oxford,  1725,  vol.  i.  p.  cxxv.  The  modern  edition  of 
Hearne's  work  also  contains  it.  Being  avowedly  a  falsification  of  the  truth, 
it  has  not  been  thought  proper  to  reprint  it  here.  This  false  and  abusive 
publication  naturally  excited  the  attention  of  John  Ferrar,  and  in  reply  to  his 
remonstrances,  Edward  Lenton  sent  him  a  copy  of  the  true  Letter,  with  an 
explanation,  dated  Notley,  near  Thame,  27th  October  (1642).  The  same 
causes  which  prevented  the  publication  of  the  letter  to  Hetley,  operated  to 
keep  this  letter  of  explanation  in  MS.  It  was  first  printed  by  Hearne  in  his 
edition  of  Th.  Caii  Vindicics  Acad.  Oxon.,  1730.,  vol.  ii.  p.  693.  It  will  be 
found  in  the  present  vol.,  at  p.  251,  post. 

VOL.  IV.  p 


210  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

England,  they  behaved  themselves  quietly,  and  with  Christian 
benevolence  towards  all  men  of  all  denominations  :  and  although 
they  practised  austerities  which  were  not  exceeded  by  the  severest 
orders  of  the  monastic  institutions,  yet  they  neither  required 
them  from  others,  nor  in  themselves  attributed  any  saving  merit 
to  them ;  austerities  which  mistaken  piety  thought  a  duty,  but 
which,  it  must  be  confessed,  have  not  any  proper  foundation  in 
the  Christian  institution. 

A  short  time  before  the  commission  of  these  violences,  bishop 
Williams  paid  his  last  friendly  visit  at  Gidding,  and  seeing  the 
inscription  in  the  parlour,  said  to  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  "  I  would 
advise  you  to  take  this  table  down.  You  see  the  times  grow  high 
and  turbulent,  and  no  one  knows  where  the  rage  and  madness  of 
the  people  may  end.  I  am  just  come  from  Boston,  where  I  was 
used  very  coarsely.  I  do  not  speak  as  by  authority,  I  only  advise 
you  as  a  friend,  for  fear  of  offence  or  worse  consequences.'1  Then 
after  sincerely  condoling  with  them  on  their  irreparable  misfor- 
tune in  the  death  of  Nicholas  Ferrar,  he  bade  them  his  final 
farewell.  But  ever  after  continued  their  firm  friend,  and  con- 
stantly vindicated  the  family  from  the  many  slanders  of  their  false 
accusers. — But  to  return  from  this  digression. 

Mrs.  Ferrar,  towards  the  close  of  her  life,  seems  to  have  been 
convinced  that  the  mortifications  practised  by  the  family,  were 
more  than  were  necessary,  and  she  became  apprehensive  for  the 
health,  and  even  for  the  life  of  her  beloved  son.  She  therefore 
earnestly  entreated  him,  and  with  many  tears  besought  him,  that 
he  would  relax  a  little  in  the  severe  discipline  which  he  exercised 
upon  himself.  And  he,  being  an  example  of  filial  obedience,  com- 
plied in  some  degree  with  her  request,  during  the  remainder  of 
her  life :  but  this  was  not  of  long  continuance. 

In  the  year  1635,  ten  years  after  coming  to  Gidding,  this  ex- 
cellent woman  died,  aged  eighty-three  years.  Her  character,  as 
follows,  is  given  by  her  son  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  who  collected,  and 
left  the  materials  for  these  memoirs.  "  Though  of  so  great  age, 
at  her  dying  day,  she  had  no  infirmity,  and  scarce  any  sign  of  old 
age  upon  her.  Her  hearing,  sight,  and  all  her  senses  were  very 
good.  She  had  never  lost  a  tooth ;  she  walked  very  upright,  and 
with  great  agility.  Nor  was  she  troubled  with  any  pains  or 
uneasiness  of  body.  While  she  lived  at  Gidding  she  rose,  sum- 
mer and  winter,  at  five  o'clock,  and  sometimes  sooner.  In  her 
person  she  was  of  a  comely  presence,  and  had  a  countenance  so 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  211 

full  of  gravity  that  it  drew  respect  from  all  who  beheld  her.  In 
her  words  she  was  courteous,  in  her  actions  obliging.  In  her 
diet  always  very  temperate ;  saying,  she  did  not  live  to  eat  and 
drink,  but  ate  and  drank  to  live.  She  was  a  pattern  of  piety, 
benevolence  and  charity.  And  thus  she  lived  and  died,  esteemed, 
revered,  and  beloved,  of  all  who  knew  her."  Such  are  the  effects 
of  a  life  of  temperance  and  virtue. 

While  his  mother  was  yet  living  Mr.  Ferrar  did  so  far  comply 
with  her  request,  that  he  went  to  bed,  or  lay  down  upon  it,  from 
nine  in  the  evening  till  one  in  the  morning,  which  was  his  constant 
hour  of  rising  to  his  devotions.  But  after  her  death  he  never  did 
either :  but  wrapping  himself  in  a  loose  frieze  gown,  slept  on  a 
bear's  skin  upon  the  boards.  He  also  watched  either  in  the 
oratory,  or  in  the  church  three  nights  in  the  week. 

These  nightly  watchings  having  been  frequently  mentioned,  it 
may  not  be  improper  here  to  give  a  short  account  of  the  rules 
under  which  they  were  performed.  It  was  agreed  that  there 
should  be  a  constant  double  nightwatch,  of  men  at  one  end  of  the 
house,  and  of  women  at  the  other.  That  each  watch  should  con- 
sist of  two  or  more  persons.  That  the  watchings  should  begin  at 
nine  o'clock  at  night,  and  end  at  one  in  the  morning.  That  each 
watch  should  in  those  four  hours,  carefully  and  distinctly  say  over 
the  whole  book  of  psalms,  in  the  way  of  Antiphony,  one  repeat- 
ing one  verse,  and  the  rest  the  other.  That  they  should  then 
pray  for  the  life  of  the  king  and  his  sons.  The  time  of  their 
watch  being  ended,  they  went  to  Mr.  Ferraris  door,  bade  him 
good  morrow,  and  left  a  lighted  candle  for  him.  At  one  he  con- 
stantly rose,  and  betook  himself  to  religious  meditation,  founding 
this  practice  on  an  acceptation  too  literal  of  the  passage,  At 
midnight  will  I  rise  and  give  thanks,  and  some  other  passages  of 
similar  import.  Several  religious  persons  both  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  from  distant  places,  attended  these  watchings :  and 
amongst  these  the  celebrated  Mr.  Richard  Crashaw,  fellow  of 
Peterhouse,  who  was  very  intimate  in  the  family,  and  frequently 
came  from  Cambridge  for  this  purpose,  and  at  his  return  often 
watched  in  Little  St.  Mary's  church  near  Peterhouse  *. 


4  Near  Peterhouse.~\  [A  most  respectable  author  hath  given  his  sanction,  if 
not  to  the  severity,  at  least  to  a  moderate  observation  of  this  mode  of 
psalmody,  in  his  Comment  on  the  134th  Psalm. 

"  Bless  ye  the  Lord  all  ye  servants  of  the  Lord,  who  by  night  stand  in  the 

p  2 


212  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

His  friends  perceiving  a  visible  decay  of  his  strength,  remon- 
strated against  these  austerities,  fearing  bad  consequences  to  his 
health ;  they  told  him  that  he  was  much  too  strict  in  his  way  of 
life ;  they  advised  him  to  go  abroad,  to  take  the  air  frequently, 
and  to  admit  of  some  innocent  amusement.  He  replied,  "that 
to  rise  and  go  to  bed  when  we  please,  to  take  the  air  and  get  a 
good  appetite,  to  eat  heartily,  to  drink  wine,  and  cheer  the  spirits, 
to  hunt,  and  hawk,  to  ride  abroad,  and  make  visits,  to  play  at 
cards  and  dice,  these  are  what  the  world  terms  gallant  and  plea- 
sant things,  and  recreations  fit  for  a  gentleman :  but  such  a  life 
would  be  so  great  a  slavery  to  me,  and  withal  I  think  it  of  so 
dangerous  a  tendency,  that  if  I  was  told  I  must  either  live  in  that 
manner,  or  presently  suffer  death,  the  latter  would  most  certainly 
be  my  choice." 

There  cannot  be  any  doubt  but  that  these  austerities  gradually 
reduced  a  constitution  originally  not  very  strong,  and  shortened 
the  life  of  a  most  virtuous,  and  most  valuable  man. 

house  of  the  Lord.  Bless  him  in  the  chearful  and  busy  hours  of  the  day : 
bless  him  in  the  solemn  and  peaceful  watches  of  the  night. 

"  The  pious  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar  exhibited  in  the  last  century  an  instance 
of  a  protestant  family,  in  which  a  constant  course  of  psalmody  was  appointed, 
and  so  strictly  kept  up,  that  through  the  whole  four  and  twenty  hours  of  day 
and  night,  there  was  no  portion  of  time  when  some  of  the  members  were 
not  employed  in  performing  that  most  pleasant  part  of  duty  and  devotion." 
Dr.  Home. 

The  high  degree  of  veneration  in  which  Mr.  Ferrar  held  the  book  of 
Psalms  appears  from  the  peculiar  attention  he  bestowed  upon  it ;  as  hath 
been  particularly  related  in  the  foregoing  part  of  these  memoirs.  Nor  is  he 
singular  in  this  respect.  Dr.  Home  says,  the  "  Psalms  are  an  epitome  of 
the  Bible,  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  devotion.  That  for  this  purpose  they 
are  adorned  with  figures,  and  set  off  with  all  the  graces  of  poetry,  and  poetry 
itself  designed  yet  farther  to  be  recommended  by  the  charms  of  music,  thus 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  God  ;  that  so,  delight  may  prepare  the  way  for 
improvement,  and  pleasure  become  the  handmaid  of  wisdom,  while  every 
turbulent  passion  is  calmed  by  sacred  melody,  and  the  evil  spirit  still  dispos- 
sessed by  the  harp  of  the  son  of  Jesse."  "  What  is  there  necessary  for  man  to 
know,"  says  the  pious  and  judicious  Hooker,  "  which  the  Psalms  are  not  able 
to  teach  ?  They  are  to  beginners,  an  easy  and  familiar  introduction,  a  mighty 
augmentation  of  all  virtue  and  knowledge  in  such  as  are  entered  before,  and 
a  strong  confirmation  to  the  most  perfect  among  others."  Hooker.  See 
Dr.  Home's  Pref.  to  his  Commentary. 

On  such  respectable  authority,  I  may  safely  recommend  a  proper  degree  of 
attention  to  the  example  of  Mr.  Ferrar,  so  far  as  time,  and  opportunity,  and 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  situation  will  admit.] 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  213 

About  three  months  before  his  death,  perceiving  in  himself 
some  inward  faintness,  and  apprehending  that  his  last  hour  was 
now  drawing  very  near,  he  broke  off  abruptly  from  writing  any 
farther  on  a  subject  which  was  now  under  his  consideration.  This 
breaking  off  is  yet  to  be  seen  in  that  unfinished  treatise,  with  his  rea- 
son for  discontinuing  it.  He  then  began  to  write  down  Contem- 
plations on  Death  in  the  following  words : 

"  The  remembrance  of  death  is  very  powerful  to  restrain  us 
from  sinning.  For  he  who  shall  well  consider  that  the  day  will 
come  (and  he  knoweth  not  how  soon)  when  he  shall  be  laid  on  a 
sick  bed,  weak  and  faint,  without  ease  and  almost  without 
strength,  encompassed  with  melancholy  thoughts,  and  over- 
whelmed with  anguish ;  when  on  one  side,  his  distemper  increasing 
upon  him,  the  physician  tells  him  that  he  is  past  all  hope  of  life, 
and  on  the  other,  his  friends  urge  him  to  dispose  of  his  worldly 
goods,  and  share  his  wealth  among  them :  that  wealth  which  he 
procured  with  trouble,  and  preserved  with  anxiety :  that  wealth 
which  he  now  parts  from  with  sorrow :  when  again  the  priest  calls 
on  him  to  take  the  preparatory  measures  for  his  departure :  when 
he  himself  now  begins  to  be  assured  that  here  he  hath  no  abiding 
city :  that  this  is  no  longer  a  world  for  him :  that  no  more  suns 
will  rise  and  set  upon  him :  that  for  him  there  will  be  no  more 
seeing,  no  more  hearing,  no  more  speaking,  no  more  touching,  no 
more  tasting,  no  more  fancying,  no  more  understanding,  no  more 
remembering,  no  more  desiring,  no  more  loving,  no  more  delights 
of  any  sort  to  be  enjoyed  by  him ;  but  that  death  will  at  one 
stroke  deprive  him  of  all  these  things :  that  he  will  speedily  be 
carried  out  of  the  house  which  he  had  called  his  own,  and  is  now 
become  another's :  that  he  will  be  put  into  a  cold,  narrow  grave : 
that  earth  will  be  consigned  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  and  dust  to 
dust :  let  any  man  duly  and  daily  ponder  these  things,  and  how 
can  it  be  that  he  should  dare  " 

Here  the  strength  of  this  good  man  failed  him,  and  his  essay 
is  left  thus  unfinished. 

On  the  second  of  November  he  found  that  his  weakness 
increased,  yet  he  went  to  church,  and  on  that  day  officiated  for 
the  last  time.  After  this,  his  faintness  continued  gradually  to 
increase,  but  he  suffered  not  the  least  degree  of  bodily  pain. 
He  conversed  with  his  family,  and  earnestly  encouraged  them  to 
persevere  in  the  way  he  had  pointed  out  to  them.  And  addressing 
himself  particularly  to  his  brother,  said,  "  My  dear  brother,  I 


214  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

must  now  shortly  appear  before  God,  and  give  an  account  of  what 
I  have  taught  this  family.  And  here  with  a  safe  conscience  I 
can  say,  that  I  have  delivered  nothing  to  you  but  what  I  thought 
agreeable  to  his  word :  therefore  abide  steadily  by  what  I  have 
taught.  Worship  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  I  will  use  no 
more  words.  One  thing  however  I  must  add,  that  you  may  be 
both  forewarned,  and  prepared.  Sad  times5  are  coming  on, 
very  sad  times  indeed ;  you  will  live  to  see  them."  Then  grasping 
his  brother's  hand,  he  said,  U0h !  my  brother !  I  pity  you,  who 
must  see  these  dreadful  alterations.  And  when  you  shall  see 
the  true  worship  of  God  brought  to  nought,  and  suppressed, 
then  look,  and  fear  that  desolation  is  nigh  at  hand.  And  in 
this  great  trial  may  God  of  his  infinite  mercy  support  and  deliver 
you." 

The  third  day  before  his  death  he  summoned  all  his  family 
round  him,  and  then  desired  his  brother  to  go  and  mark  out  a 
place*  for  his  grave  according  to  the  particular  directions  he 

6  Sad  times.']  "  When  some  farmers  near  the  place  where  master  Ferrar 
lived,  somewhat  before  these  times,  desired  longer  leases  to  be  made  them, 
he  intimated,  that  seven  years  would  be  long  enough.  Troublous  times  were 
coming :  they  might  thank  God  if  they  enjoyed  them  so  long,  in  peace." 
Oley's  Life  of  Mr.  George  Herbert.  "When  these  sad  times  were  come, 
religion  and  loyalty  were  such  eye  sores,  that  all  the  Ferrars  fled  away,  and 
dispersed,  and  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods.  All  that  they  had 
restored  to  the  church,  all  that  they  had  bestowed  upon  sacred  comeliness, 
all  that  they  had  gathered  for  their  own  livelihood  and  for  alms,  was  seized 
upon  as  a  lawful  prey,  taken  from  superstitious  persons."  Racket's  Life  of 
Abp.  Williams,  part  2.  p.  53. 

6  Mark  out  a  place.']  "Three  days  before  his  death,  at  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  he  summoned  all  his  family  around  him,  and  addressed  his 
brother  John  to  this  effect :  *  Brother,  I  would  have  you  go  to  the  church, 
and  at  the  west  end,  at  the  door  where  we  enter  the  church,  I  would  have 
you  measure  from  the  steps  seven  feet  to  the  westward,  and  at  the  end  of 
those  seven  feet,  there  let  my  grave  be  made.'  His  brother  stood  almost 
drowned  in  tears,  as  in  truth  were  all  the  standers-by  :  indeed  never  had  a 
family  more  cause  to  bewail  a  loss.  Mr.  Ferrar  continued :  '  Brother,  that 
first  place  of  the  length  of  seven  feet,  I  leave  for  your  burying-place ;  you 
are  my  elder  brother :  God,  I  hope,  will  let  you  there  take-up  your  resting- 
place,  till  we  all  rise  again  in  joy/  When  his  brother  returned,  saying  it  was 
done  as  he  desired ;  '  then  go,'  he  added,  '  and  remove  from  my  study  those 
three  large  hampers  full  of  books,  that  stand  there  locked  up  these  many 
years.  They  are  comedies,  tragedies,  heroic  poems,  and  romances  :  let  them 
be  carried  to  the  place  marked  out  for  my  grave,  and  there,  upon  it,  see  you 
burn  them  all  immediately.'  And  this  he  uttered  with  some  vehemence  and 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  2J5 

then  gave.  When  his  brother  returned,  saying  it  was  done  as 
he  desired,  he  requested  them  all  in  presence  of  each  other  to 
take  out  of  his  study  three  large  hampers  full  of  books,  which  had 
been  there  locked  up  many  years.  "  They  are  comedies,  tragedies, 
heroic  poems,  and  romances ;  let  them  be  immediately  burnt 
upon  the  place  marked  out  for  my  grave :  and  when  you  shall 
have  so  done,  come  back  and  inform  me."  When  information 
was  brought  him  that  they  were  all  consumed,  he  desired  that 
this  act  might  be  considered  as  the  testimony  of  his  disapproba- 
tion of  all  such  productions,  as  tending  to  corrupt  the  mind  of 
man,  and  improper  for  the  perusal  of  every  good  and  sincere 
Christian. 

On  the  first  of  December,  1637,  he  found  himself  declining 
very  fast,  and  desired  to  receive  the  sacrament :  after  which,  and 
taking  a  most  affectionate  farewell  of  all  his  family,  without  a 
struggle,  or  a  groan,  he  expired  in  a  rapturous  ecstacy7  of 
devotion. 

Thus  lived,  and  thus  died  Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  best  of  sons,  of 
brothers,  and  of  friends,  on  Monday,  Dec.  2,  1637,  precisely  as 
the  clock  struck  one  :  the  hour  at  which  for  many  years  he  con- 
stantly rose  to  pay  his  addresses  to  heaven. 

indignation,  adding,  *  Go,  brother ;  let  it  be  done,  let  it  be  done ;  and  then 
come  again  all  of  you  to  me/ 

"  These  books  had  been  carefully  locked  up  ever  since  the  family  had  taken 
up  their  abode  at  Gidding,  in  order  that  no  one  should  make  use  of  them,  or 
see  them.  There  were  many  hundreds  in  several  languages,  which  Mr. 
Ferrar  had  procured  at  different  places  in  his  travels,  some  of  them  with 
much  search  and  cost. 

"  His  orders  were  obeyed.  The  vain  things  which  once  had  charmed  him, 
were  sacrificed  over  the  spot  which  was  to  receive  his  mortal  remains ;  and 
the  smoke  and  flame  of  this  holocaust,  as  they  flared  from  the  eminence  on 
which  the  house  and  church  stood,  excited  the  attention  and  alarm  of  the 
neighbourhood,  and  drew  together  very  many  persons,  who  imagined  a 
destructive  fire  was  happening  at  Gidding. 

"  When  the  people  saw  what  was  doing,  they  went  away,  and  reported 
that  Mr.  Ferrar  was  dying,  and  his  books  burning.  Within  a  few  days  the 
report  of  this  transaction  had  assumed  another  feature,  and  it  was  currently 
asserted  in  the  neighbouring  market  towns,  that  he  would  not  die  in  peace 
until  he  had  burned  all  his  books  of  magic  and  conjuration. 

.  .  .  .  "  When  his  brother  returned,  and  assured  him  that  they  were  all 
burnt,  he  sat  up  in  his  bed,  and  poured  out  his  soul  in  hearty  thanksgivings 
to  Almighty  God."— Brief  Memoirs,  fyc.  (from  Bp.  Turner),  p.  182—6. 

7  A  rapturous  ecstacy. ,]  See  Brief  Memoirs  of  Nicholas  Ferrar  (from  Bp. 
Turner)  by  the  Rev.  T.  M.  Macdonogh,  p.  188—91. 


216  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

That  he  was  eminently  pious  towards  God,  benevolent  towards 
man,  and  perfectly  sincere  in  all  his  dealings:  that  he  was 
industrious  beyond  his  strength,  and  indefatigable  in  what  he 
thought  his  duty :  that  he  was  blessed  by  providence  with  uncom- 
mon abilities  ;  and  by  unremitted  exertion  of  his  various  talents 
attained  many  valuable  accomplishments,  is  very  manifest  from 
the  preceding  memoirs,  and  is  the  least  that  can  be  said  in  his 
praise ;  and  though  greatly  to  his  honour,  is  yet  no  more  than 
that  degree  of  excellence  which  may  have  been  attained  by  many. 
But  the  spiritual  exaltation  of  mind  by  which  he  rose  above  all 
earthly  considerations  of  advantage,  and  devoted  himself  entirely 
to  God,  whom  in  the  strictest  sense  he  loved  with  all  his  heart, 
with  all  his  soul,  and  with  all  his  strength,  being  united  to  the 
active  virtues  of  a  citizen  of  the  world,  gives  him  a  peculiar  pre- 
eminence even  among  those  who  excel  in  virtue.  For  though  he 
practised  self-denial  to  the  utmost,  and  exercised  religious  seve- 
rities upon  himself  scarce  inferior  to  those  of  the  recluses  who 
retired  to  deserts,  and  shut  themselves  up  in  dens  and  caves  of 
the  earth,  yet  he  did  not,  like  them,  by  a  solitary  and  morose 
retirement,  deprive  himself  of  the  power  continually  to  do  good, 
but  led  a  life  of  active  virtue  and  benevolence.  His  youth  was 
spent  in  an  incessant  application  to  learned  studies,  and  the  time 
of  his  travel  was  given  to  the  acquisition  of  universal  wisdom. 
On  his  return  home,  in  conducting  the  affairs  of  an  important 
establishment,  he  displayed  uncommon  abilities,  integrity  and 
spirit.  As  a  member  of  the  house  of  commons  he  gained  dis- 
tinguished honour,  and  was  appointed  the  principal  manager  to 
prosecute,  and  bring  to  justice  the  great  man  and  corrupt 
minister  of  that  time.  And  having  thus  discharged  the  duties  of 
a  virtuous  citizen,  he  devoted  the  rest  of  his  life  to  the  instruction 
of  youth,  to  works  of  Christian  charity,  and  to  the  worship  of 
God  in  a  religious  retirement,  while  he  was  yet  in  possession  of 
his  health  and  strength,  and  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  That 
like  the  great  author,  who  was  his  daily  and  nightly  study  and 
admiration,  the  royal  Psalmist,  he  might  not  sacrifice  to  God, 
that  which  cost  him  nothing.  In  one  word,  he  was  a  rare 
example  of  that  excellence  in  which  are  blended  all  the  brilliant 
cjualitifs  of  the  great  man,  with  all  the  amiable  virtues  of  the 
good. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  217 

As  a  sequel  to  the  preceding  memoirs,  I  will  subjoin  a  short 
account  of  Mr.  Nich.  Ferrar,  jun.  as  being  proper,  if  not  neces- 
sary, to  clear  up  some  difficulties  concerning  the  works  of  these 
two  extraordinary  persons,  who  were  blessed  with  a  similarity  of 
genius,  and  possessed  uncommon  accomplishments  in  learning 
and  virtue. 

Nicholas  Ferrar,  jun.  was  the  son  of  John  Ferrar,  esq.  (elder 
brother  to  the  sen.  Nicholas)  and  Bathsheba,  daughter  of  Mr. 
Israel  Owen  of  London.  He  was  bom  in  the  year  1620.  By  a 
picture  of  him  in  the  editor's  possession,  taken  when  he  might 
be  something  more  than  a  year  old,  he  appears  to  have  been  a 
robust  and  healthy  child.  When  he  became  capable  of  instruc- 
tion his  uncle  took  him  under  his  own  immediate  care,  and 
finding  in  him  a  quickness  of  parts,  and  a  turn  of  disposition 
congenial  to  his  own,  he  instructed,  and  assisted  him  in  the 
same  course  of  studies  which  he  himself  had  pursued  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life. 

In  this  he  made  such  a  rapid  proficiency,  as  was  the  asto- 
nishment of  all  who  knew  him,  and,  could  it  not  be  proved  by 
sufficient  testimony,  might  occasion  a  great  difficulty  of  belief. 

It  cannot  be  expected  that  the  life  of  a  young  man,  who  scarce 
ever  went  from  the  sequestered  place  of  his  education,  and  died 
when  he  was  but  little  more  than  twenty  years  of  age,  should 
abound  with  incidents  ;  but  if  the  term  of  existence  were  to  be 
measured  by  virtue  and  knowledge,  few  would  be  found  who  have 
lived  so  long. 

This  extraordinary  youth  was  dearly  beloved  of  his  uncle,  who 
spared  no  diligence  or  expense  in  his  education,  providing  able 
tutors  both  in  the  sciences  and  in  languages,  and  bestowing  great 
part  of  his  own  time  in  his  instruction.  He  too  like  his  uncle, 
with  uncommon  quickness  of  parts,  and  extraordinary  strength  of 
memory,  possessed  an  equal  ardour  for  improvement,  and  an 
indefatigable  spirit  of  application. 

He  also  was  the  constant  attendant  of  his  uncle  in  his  religious 
exercises,  and  particularly  in  the  nightly  watches,  and  acts  of 
devotion.  And  it  is  to  be  feared  that  these  (may  I  say  ?)  too 
severe  exertions  might  in  some  degree  tend  to  shorten  the  term 
of  life. 

He  was  but  seventeen  at  the  death  of  his  uncle,  and  he 
survived  him  but  four  years.  He  died  May  19,  1640,  in  his 
twenty-first  year. 


218  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

The  first  work  in  which  young  N.  Ferrar  appears  to  have 
been  employed  by  his  uncle  was  the  translation  of  Mynsinger^s 
Devotions ;  a  volume  containing  a  very  large  collection  of  prayers 
for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  N.  Ferrar,  sen.  commended 
this  book  of  Occasional  Devotions  as  the  best  he  had  ever  seen 
upon  the  subject,  and  said  that  it  could  not  but  do  much  good  in 
the  world.  This  the  nephew  performed  when  he  was  about  four- 
teen years  of  age.  His  greater  works,  as  they  are  arranged  in 
the  original  MS.  stand  as  follows :  and  I  give  them  in  the  very 
words  of  the  MS.  without  correction  of  some  little  inaccuracies  in 
the  account,  which  it  is  hoped  will  meet  with  pardon  *. 

Sir, 

Upon  your  request,  and  bound  by  the  great  obligation  of  your 
worth,  I  have  thus  scribbled  out,  what  here  follows;  rather 
willing  to  shame  myself  in  this  kind,  than  not  to  fulfil  your 
desires.  Such  as  it  is,  you  will  please  to  accept,  from, 

Sir, 
Your  much  obliged  in  all  love  and  service, 

J.  F. 

1.  FIRST  WORK  ». 

Glory  be  to  God  on  High. 
The  actions,  doctrines,  and  other  passages  touching  our  blessed  Lord  and 

8  With  pardon.']  In  the  room  of  what  follows  in  Dr.  Peckard's  Life,  from 
the  conclusion  of  this  paragraph,  (from  p.  260  to  p.  278)  the  reader  is  here 
presented  with  a  much  more  complete,  and  extremely  interesting  account, 
transcribed,  by  the  permission  of  his  grace  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
from  a  MS.  (No.  251)  in  the  Lambeth  library.  These  papers  appear  to  have 
been  written  by  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  the  father  of  the  extraordinary  young  man 
to  whom  they  refer,  the  eldest  brother  of  Nicholas  Ferrar,  sen.  and  the  com- 
piler of  the  original  MS.  from  which  Dr.  Peckard's  Memoirs  of  the  elder 
Nicholas  are  taken.  They  were  written  probably  in  the  year  1653;  but  to 
whom  they  are  addressed,  it  does  not  appear. 

*  First  Work.]  A.  copy  of  this  work,  of  which  the  title,  with  one  or  two 
trifling  variations,  agrees  with  that  given  above,  but  dated  in  1 635,  is  in  the 
British  Museum.  See  above,  p.  199,  note.  It  is  in  old  green  morocco 
binding  richly  gilt.  The  present  editor  has  also  seen,  in  the  possession  of 
his  friend  the  Rev.  Thomas  Dowdier,  the  representative  of  the  last  baronet 
of  the  Cotton  family,  another  copy  of  this  work,  dated  1635.  Conington, 
the  seat  of  the  Cottons,  is  not  more  than  five  miles  from  Little  Gidding.  Of 
the  Fenrar  volumes  given  to  George  Herbert  and  Dr.  Thomas  Jackson  (see 
p.  197)  no  trace  has  been  found.  Mr.  Mapletoft's  was  afterwards  in  the 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  219 

Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  as  they  are  related  by  the  Four  Evangelists,  reduced 
into  one  complete  body  of  history ;  wherein  that  which  is  severally  related  by 
them,  is  digested  into  order,  and  that  which  is  jointly  related  by  all,  or  any  of 
them,  is  first  expressed  in  their  own  words,  by  way  of  comparison ;  secondly, 
brought  into  one  narration,  by  way  of  composition ;  thirdly,  extracted  into 
one  clear  context,  by  way  of  collection  :  yet  so  as  whatsoever  was  omitted  in 
the  context,  is  inserted  by  way  of  supplement  in  another  print,  and  in  such 
a  manner  as  all  the  Four  Evangelists  may  easily  be  read  severally,  and  dis- 
tinctly, each  a-part  and  alone,  from  first  to  last 1.  Done  at  Little  Gidding, 
anno  1630. 

In  each  page  throughout  the  whole  book  were  sundry  exquisite  pictures 
added,  expressing  either  the  facts  themselves,  or  other  types  and  figures,  or 
matters  appertaining  thereunto,  much  to  the  pleasure  of  the  eye,  and  delight 
to  the  reader. 

2.  SECOND  WoRK2. 

The  history  of  the  Israelites,  from  the  death  of  king  Saul,  to  the  carrying 
away  captive  into  Babylon  :  collected  out  of  the  books  of  Kings  and  Chroni- 
cles, in  the  words  of  the  texts  themselves,  without  any  alteration  of  importance 
by  addition  to  them,  or  diminution  from  them  :  whereby,  first,  all  the  actions 
and  passages,  which  are  in  either  of  the  books  of  Kings  or  Chronicles,  whe- 
ther jointly  or  severally,  are  reduced  into  the  body  of  one  complete  narration ; 
secondly,  they  are  digested  into  an  orderly  dependancy  one  upon  the  other ; 
thirdly,  many  difficult  places  are  cleared:  and  many  seeming  differences 
between  the  books  of  Kings  and  Chronicles  compounded :  and  all  this  so 
contrived,  as  notwithstanding  these  mutual  compositions  of  the  books  of 
Kings  and  Chronicles  in  this  historical  collection,  yet  the  form  of  each 

possession  of  Mr.  Heming  of  Hillingdon ;  and  other  copies  have  been  said  to 
exist  in  the  libraries  of  the  marquis  of  Salisbury,  and  St.  John's  College, 
Oxford. 

1  First  to  last.']   From  a  copy  of  this  Harmony  Dr.  Peckard  produces 
(p.  274)  the  following  memorandum  : 

"This  book  was  presented  by  my  great-grandmother,  by  my  honoured 
mother's  two  sisters  (the  daughters  of  John  and  Susanna  Collet),  and  by 
their  uncle  Nicholas  Ferrar,  who  was  my  godfather,  to  my  ever  honoured 
mother,  Susanna  Mapletoft,  the  same  year  in  which  I  was  born  (1631). 
And  I  desire  my  son,  to  whom  I  do  give  it,  with  the  Great  Concordance, 
and  other  story  books,  that  it  may  be  preserved  in  the  family  as  long  as 
may  be. 

"  JOHN  MAPLETOFT,  Jan.  23,  1715." 

2  Second  Work.']  A  copy  of  this,  dated  1637,  is  also  in  the  British  Museum, 
to  which  it  came  with  the  old  Royal  Library.     It  is  also  in  old  green  morocco 
binding,  ornamented  with  lines  of  gold.     The  British  Museum  also  possesses, 
from  the  same  source,  a  work  by  the  Ferrars  family  not  hitherto  described, 
it  is  in  two  parts,  entitled  Acta  Apostolorum  elegantiss.  monochromatis  delineata. 
The  Revelation  of  St.  John  the  Divine.     In  a  large  folio  volume,  in  old  green 
morocco,  richly  gilt,  of  a  different  pattern  from  either  of  the  preceding. 


220  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

of  them  is  preserved  intire,  in  such  a  manner  as  they  may  easily  be  read 
severally  and  distinctly,  from  first  to  last.  Also  there  are  three  sundry  kinds 
of  tables :  theirs/  summarily  declaring  the  several  heads  and  chapters,  into 
which  this  historical  collection  is  divided ;  the  second  specifying  what  passages 
are  related  in  the  aforesaid  books  of  Kings  and  Chronicles,  and  what  are 
jointly  related  by  them  both,  as  also  in  what  heads  and  chapters  in  the  col- 
lection they  may  be  found ;  the  third  shewing  where  every  chapter  of  the 
texts  themselves,  and  every  part  of  them  may  be  very  readily  found  in  this 
collection. 

N.  There  is  an  intention,  and  preparation  making  (if  the  times  permit)  to 
make  a  second  piece  in  this  kind  :  but  to  illustrate  it  in  a  more  pleasant  and 
profitable  way,  and  manner,  than  this  first  work  was  done.  The  good  Lord 
say  Amen  to  it ! 

3.  THIRD  WORK. 

MONOTE22APON. 

The  actions,  doctrines  and  other  passages  touching  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,  as  they  are  related  by  the  Four  Evangelists;  harmonically, 
symmetrically,  and  collaterally  placed,  in  four  languages,  English,  Latin, 
French,  Italian,  reduced  into  one  complete  body  of  history;  wherein  that 
which  is  severally  related  by  them,  is  digested  into  order,  and  that  which  is 
jointly  related  by  all  or  any  of  them,  is  first  extracted  into  one  narration,  by 
way  of  composition ;  secondly,  brought  into  one  clear  context,  by  the  way  of 
collection :  to  which  are,  in  all  the  pages  of  the  book,  added  sundry  of  the  best 
pictures  that  could  be  gotten,  expressing  the  facts  themselves,  or  their  types, 
figures,  or  other  matters  appertaining  thereunto;  done  at  Little  Gidding, 
anno  1640. 

4.  FOURTH  WORK. 

The  Gospel  of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  according  to 
the  holy  Evangelists,  in  eight  several  languages,  Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin, 
French,  Spanish,  High  Dutch,  Saxon  and  Welsh,  all  interpreted  with  Latin 
or  English,  word  for  word,  interlineally  placed,  and  at  one  view  to  be  seen 
and  read ;  so  done  and  contrived  for  the  use  and  benefit  of  all  such  as  are 
desirous  with  sureness,  ease,  speed  and  pleasure,  to  attain  to  the  knowledge 
of  these  languages  :  likewise  it  may  be  of  very  good  help  to  strangers  that 
may  desire  to  learn  the  English  tongue. 

5.  FIFTH  WORK. 

Novum  Testamentum  Domini  et  Salvatoris  Nostri  Jesu  Christi  viginti 
quatuor  linguis  expressum,  vid. 

1.  Hebraice.  7.  Anglo-Saxonice. 

2.  Greece.  8.  Muscovitire. 

3.  Syriace.  9.  Cambro-Britannice. 

4.  Arabice.  10.  Belgice. 

5.  jEthiopice.  11.  Suedice. 

6.  Latine.  12.  Hibernice. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  221 

13.  Germanice.  19.  Gallice. 

14.  Polonice.  20.  Ttalice. 

15.  Danice.  21.  Hispanice. 

16.  Bohemice.  22.  Cantabrice. 

17.  Hungarice.  23.  Lusitanice. 

18.  Anglice.  24.  Sclavonice. 

Unaquaeque  lingua  proprio  suo  charactere  scripta,  et  omnes  Harmonice  et 
Symmetrice  collocate,  etiamque  Syriaca  literis  et  vocalibus  Hebraicis  scripta, 
cum  interlineari  Latina  interpretatione  insuper  adjecta. 

6.  SIXTH  WORK. 

Sacrosanctum  S.  Johannis  Evangelium  in  totidem  linguis  quot  sunt 
capita,  vid. 

Caput  Caput 

1.  jEthiopice.  12.  Germanice. 

2.  Greece.  13.  Hungarice. 

3.  Syriace.  14.  Gallice. 

4.  Arabice.  15.  Italice. 

5.  Latine.  16.  Hispanice. 

6.  Saxonice.  17.  Suedice. 

7.  Hebraice.  18.  Danice. 

8.  Anglice.  19.  Polonice. 

9.  Cambro-Britannice.  20.  Belgice. 

10.  Bohemice.  21.  Hibernice  et  Muscovitice. 

11.  Cantabrice. 

Et  unaqueeque  lingua  per  interlinearem  Latinam  interpretationem  ad 
verbum  redditam  et  positam,  explicata. 


Some  Observations  that  happened  upon  these  forenamed  Works,  done 
at  Gidding,  and  the  acceptation  of  them  by  the  King  and 
Prince. 

1.  Upon  the  first  work. 

His  sacred  majesty,  anno  1631,  having  heard  of  some  rare 
contrivements,  as  he  was  pleased  to  term  them,  of  books  done  at 
Little  Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire,  in  an  unusual  way  and  manner, 
for  their  own  private  uses  and  employments;  and  that  the 
younger  sort  learned  them  without  book,  and  hourly  made  repeti- 
tion of  some  part  of  them,  that  so  both  their  hands  and  minds 
might  be  partakers  in  what  was  good  and  useful :  it  so  happened 
that  being  at  Apthorpe  *  at  the  earl  of  Westmoreland's  house,  in 

3  At  Apthorpe.']  In  Northamptonshire. 


222  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

his  progress,  about  seven  miles  off  Gidding  ;  he  sent  a  gentleman 
of  his  court,  well  loved  of  him,  to  Gidding ;  who  came  and  de- 
clared, that  the  king  his  master  desired  that  there  might  be  sent 
by  him  A  BOOK,  but  he  knew  not  the  name  of  it,  that  was  made 
at  Gidding,  and  somewhat  of  it  every  hour  repeated  by  them. 
The  tidings  were  much  unexpected,  and  Nicholas  Ferrar  at 
London.  Leave  was  craved,  that  the  deferring  of  the  sending  of 
it  might  be  respited  one  week,  and  the  king  might  be  informed, 
that  the  book  was  wholly  unfitting  every  way  for  a  king^s  eye  : 
and  those  that  had  given  him  any  notice  of  such  a  thing  had 
much  misinformed  his  majesty ;  and  when  he  should  see  it,  he 
would  con  them  no  thanks 4,  the  book  being  made  only  for  the 
young  people  in  the  family.  But  all  excuses  could  not  satisfy 
this  gentleman.  He  said  if  we  enforced  him  to  go  without  it, 
he  knew  he  should  be  again  sent  for  it  that  night ;  and  no  nays 
he  would  have.  So  necessity  enforced  the  delivery;  and  the 
gentleman  seemed  greatly  contented  ;  took  the  book,  saying  not 
his  man,  but  himself  would  carry  it :  he  knew  it  would  be  an 
acceptable  service  to  his  master ;  and  engaged  his  faith,  that  at 
the  king^s  departure  from  Apthorpe,  he  would  bring  it  again. 
But  a  quarter  of  a  year  past.  Then  came  the  gentleman  again ; 
but  brought  no  book  ;  but  after  much  compliment  said,  the  king 
so  liked  the  work  itself,  and  the  contrivement  of  it  in  all  kinds, 
that  there  had  not  a  day  passed,  but  the  king,  in  the  midst  of  all 
his  progress  and  sports,  spent  one  hour  in  the  perusing  of  it : 
and  that  would  apparently  be  seen  by  the  notations  he  had  made 
upon  the  margins  of  it  with  his  own  hand  :  and  that  his  master 
would  upon  no  terms  part  with  it,  except  he  brought  him  a  pro- 
mise from  the  family,  that  they  would  make  him  one  for  his  daily 
use,  which  he  should  esteem  as  a  rich  jewel.  Some  months 
after  the  gentleman,  acquainting  the  king  what  he  had  done  in 
obedience  to  his  command,  brought  back  the  book  from  London 
to  Gidding ;  saying,  that  upon  the  condition  that  within  the  space 
of  twelve  months  the  king  might  have  one  made  him,  he  was  to 
render  back  that  again ;  and  so  with  many  courtly  terms  he  <]<>- 
I  .art  «'d,  with  intimation  from  Nicholas  Ferrar,  that  his  majesty^ 
commands  should  be  obeyed. 

4  He  would  con  them  no  thanks. ,]  So,  "  Frend  Hoggarde,  /  cun  you  thanke, 
that  you  have  learned  somewhat  at  Father  Latimer'8  Sermons." — Robert 
Crowley's  Confutation  of  the  Aunswer  to  the  Ballad,  called  "  The  Abuse  of  the 
Blested  Sacrament  of  the  Altare."  Signat.  A  3.  b.  A.D.  1548. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  223 

The  book  being  opened,  there  was  found,  as  the  gentleman 
had  said,  the  king's  notes  in  many  places  in  the  margin ;  which 
testified  the  king's  diligent  perusal  of  it.  And  in  one  place  which 
is  not  to  be  forgotten,  to  the  eternal  memory  of  his  majesty's 
superlative  humility  (no  small  virtue  in  a  king,)  having  written 
something  in  one  place,  he  puts  it  out  again  very  neatly  with  his 
pen.  But  that,  it  seems,  not  contenting  him,  he  vouchsafes  to 
underwrite,  " I  confess  my  error:  it  was  well  before"  (an  example 
to  all  his  subjects)  "/  was  mista&en." 

Before  the  year  came  about,  such  diligence  and  expedition  was 
used,  that  a  book  was  presented  to  his  majesty,  being  bound  in 
crimson  velvet,  and  richly  gilded  upon  the  velvet,  a  thing  not 
usual.  The  king  gratiously  with  a  cheerful  countenance  received 
it :  and  after  a  curious  perusal,  after  having  asked  many  questions 
concerning  the  work,  and  the  parties  that  had  done  it ;  said  to 
the  lord's  grace  of  Canterbury,  and  divers  other  lords  that  stood 
about  him,  (doctor  Cosin  being  also  there,  that  was  his  chaplain 
for  that  month),  "  Truly  my  lords,  I  prize  this  as  a  rare  and  rich 
jewel,  and  worth  a  king's  acceptance.  The  substance  of  it  is  of 
the  best  alloy  in  the  world,  and  ought  to  be  the  only  desirable 
book.  And  for  the  skill,  care,  cost,  used  in  it,  there  is  no  defect, 
but  a  superlative  diligence  in  all  about  it.  I  very  much  thank 
them  all :  and  it  shall  be  my  Vade  mecum.  How  happy  a  king 
were  I,  if  I  had  many  more  such  workmen  and  women  in  my  king- 
dom. God's  blessing  on  their  hearts,  and  painful  hands  !  I  know 
they  will  receive  no  reward  for  it."  Then  he  gave  the  book  to 
the  lords  to  peruse,  saying,  there  are  fine  pictures  in  it.  The  lords 
said,  they  believed  the  like  book  was  not  in  the  world  to  be  seen. 
It  was  a  precious  gem,  and  worthy  of  his  cabinet. 

Then  said  the  king  to  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  and  to  doctor 
Cosin,  "  What  think  you  ?  Will  not  these  good  people  be  willing 
that  I  put  them  to  a  further  trouble  ?  I  find  their  ability  and  art 
is  excellent :  and  why  should  I  doubt  of  their  condescension  to 
my  desire  2"  "  Your  majesty  need  not,"  replied  the  archbishop  ; 
and  doctor  Cosin  seconded  him.  "  We  know  they  will  fulfill 
your  commands  in  all  things  in  their  powers."  "  Well,"  said  the 
king,  "let  me  tell  you,  I  often  read  the  books  of  Kings  and 
Chronicles,  as  is  befitting  a  king:  but  in  many  things,  I  find 
some  seeming  contradictions ;  and  one  book  saith  more,  and  the 
other  less,  in  many  circumstances  the  latter  being  a  supply  to  the 
former.  Now  I  seeing  this  judicious  and  well- contrived  book 


224  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

of  the  Four  Evangelists,  I  gladly  would  have  these  skilful  persons 
to  make  me  another  book  that  might  so  be  ordered,  that  I  might 
read  these  stories  of  Kings  and  Chronicles  so  interwoven  by 
them,  as  if  one  pen  had  written  the  whole  books  ;  and  to  make  it 
a  complete  history  altogether :  yet  so  again  ordering  the  matter, 
that  I  may  also  read  them  severally  and  apart,  if  I  would.  I 
have  often  spoken  to  many  of  my  chaplains  about  this  thing ; 
but  they  have  excused  themselves  (from  it)  as  a  difficult  work, 
and  (they)  not  skilful  in  that  way."  "  Let  your  majesty  rest 
contented,  and  doubt  not,  but  with  the  best  expedition  that  can 
be,  the  thing  shall  be  done  as  you  intimate.  Doctor  Cosin  shall 
acquaint  them  speedily  with  your  majesty's  pleasure." 

So  intimation  was  given  them  at  Gidding  of  this  thing :  and 
they  with  all  care  and  diligence  instantly  set  about  it.  And  thus 
was  this  second  work,  (as  you  see  in  the  insuing  title,)  begun 
and  finished  in  a  year's  time.  And  what  happened  in  the  pre- 
senting and  acceptation  of  it,  you  shall  find  by  the  insuing  dis- 
course that  follows  upon  it. 


THE  SECOND  WOIIK  done  at  Little  Gidding,  whereof  the  title  is 
as  you  see,  was  in  the  time  of  twelve  months  finished ;  and  the 
proceedings  that  happened  thereupon,  here  insueth. 

The  king's  most  excellent  majesty  having  in  the  interim  often 
demanded  when  the  book  would  be  done,  saying  the  time  seemed 
long  unto  him  till  he  saw  it : 

It  being  now  sent  up  to  London,  my  lord  of  Canterbury  under- 
standing so  much  by  Dr.  Cosin  and  one  Mr.  Ramsay,  that  had 
married  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  family,  he  being  a  minister, 
desired  it  might  be  brought  such  a  day  to  court.  My  lord  took 
it,  and  perused  it,  and  to  admiration  beheld  it,  saying,  u  Here  is 
a  master-piece  indeed  in  all  kinds,  inside  and  outside,  all  per- 
formed by  those  judicious  heads,  and  active  hands  of  Little 
Gidding.  Sure  these,  and  the  like  words  they  intend,  deserve  to 
make  it  alter  its  name  from  Parva  to  Magna.  Come,  said  he, 
let  us  go  to  the  king,  who,  I  am  sure,  will  bid  us  welcome  for 
tl»is  royal  present."1 

At  their  coming  into  the  room  where  the  king  was,  he  seeing 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  225 

my  lord  of  Canterbury  to  have  a  stately  great  book  in  his  two 
hands,  presently  rose  out  of  his  chair  where  he  was  sitting,  many 
lords  then  standing  round  about  him :  "  What,"  said  he,  "  shall 
I  now  enjoy  that  rich  jewel  I  have  thus  long  desired  1  Have  you 
my  lord,  brought  me  my  book?"  "  Yea  sir,"  replied  the  bishop 
of  Canterbury.  "  Give  it  me ;  give  it  me,"  said  the  king.  "  Your 
expectations,  sir,"  said  he,  "are  not  only  performed,  but  out  of 
doubt  many  ways  surpassed.  For  my  own  part,  I  wonder  at  the 
work,  and  all  the  parts  of  it."  "  Let  me  have  it ;"  said  the  king. 
So  smiling  he  took  it,  and  carried  it  to  the  table. 

Then  first  seriously  viewing  the  outside  of  the  book,  being 
bound  curiously  in  purple  velvet,  and  that  also  most  artificially 
gilt  upon  the  velvet  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  he  said,  "  My 
lords,  the  outside  thus  glorious,  what  think  you  will  be  the  inside 
and  matter  of  it  ?"  Then  untying  the  stately  string,  he  opening 
it  read  the  frontispiece  and  contents  of  the  book  :  then  turning 
to  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  he  said,  "  You  have  given  me  a  right 
character  of  the  work  :  truly  it  passeth  what  I  could  have  wished : 
and  what  I  think  none  but  those  heads  and  hands  in  my  kingdom, 
can  do  the  like  again."  And  so  he  began  to  view  it  leaf  by  leaf, 
and  turned  it  all  over  very  diligently,  observing  the  form  and  con- 
trivement  of  it.  Then  looking  upon  his  lords,  that  had  their  eyes 
also  fixed  upon  it,  he  said,  "  My  lords,  this,  this  is  a  jewel  in  all 
respects,  to  be  continually  worn  on  a  king's  breast,  and  in  his 
heart."  And  then  he  shewed  them  the  fair  orderly  contrivement 
of  the  joint  books  of  Kings  and  Chronicles,  thus  united  together 
in  one  history,  "as  if  written,"  said  he,  "by  one  man's  pen." 
And  so,  many  words  passed  about  it,  between  the  lords  and  the 
king,  they  extolling  it  as  an  excellent  piece.  "  Well,"  said  the 
king,  "  I  will  not  part  with  this  diamond,  for  all  those  in  rny 
Jewel-house.  For  it  is  so  delightful  to  me  :  and  I  know  the  vir- 
tues of  it  will  pass  all  the  precious  stones  in  the  world.  It  is  a 
most  rare  crystall  glass,  and  most  useful,  and  needful,  and  profit- 
able for  me  and  all  kings.  It  shews  and  represents  to  the  life, 
God's  exceeding  high  and  rich  mercies,  to  all  pious  and  virtuous 
kings,  and  likewise  his  severe  justice  to  all  ill  and  bad.  What 
then  more  profitable  to  us  all,  or  more  needful?  It  shall,  I 
assure  you,  be  my  companion  in  the  day  time  :  and  the  sweetest 
perfumed  bags  that  can  lie  under  my  head  in  the  night.  Truly  I 
am  very  much  taken  with  it  at  all  times ;  but  more,  it  being  thus 
comprised  in  a  full  pleasant  history.  My  lord  of  Canterbury,  I 

VOL.  IV.  Q 


226  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

now  perceive  that  these  good  people  at  Gidding  can  do  more 
works  in  this  kind,  than  this.  Let  them  have  my  hearty  thanks 
returned.  I  know  they  look  for  none,  neither  will  they  receive 
any  reward.  Yet  let  them  know,  as  occasion  shall  be,  I  will  not 
forget  them  :  and  God  bless  them  in  their  good  intentions  ! "  And 
so  after  some  more  talk  the  lords  had  of  Gidding,  the  king  took 
up  the  book,  and  went  away  with  it  in  his  arms. 

Some  while  after,  doctor  Cosin  gave  notice,  that  the  king,  the 
more  he  perused  both  books  given  him,  the  more  he  liked  them ; 
and  had  conference  with  him  about  the  printing  of  them,  that,  as 
he  said,  "  all  his  people  might  have  the  benefit  of  them."  And 
doctor  Cosin  told  the  king,  it  was  a  kingly  motion,  and  by  his 
majesty's  favour,  they  should  be  put  out,  as  at  his  command,  and 
the  latter  as  done  by  his  directions. 


N.  It  is  to  be  known,  that  these  works  were  so  done  as  if  they 
had  been  printed  the  ordinary  way ;  as  most  that  saw  them  did 
think  so.  But  it  was  in  another  kind  done;  though  all  was 
printed  indeed,  and  not  written,  as  some  may  conceive  at  the 
reading  of  the  titles  of  the  books. 


THE  THIRD  WORK  was  occasioned  and  effected  upon  a  letter 
sent  to  Gidding  from  a  person  of  honour,  that  the  prince,  having 
seen  the  king  his  father's  book,  that  was  first  of  all  presented 
him,  of  the  Concordance  of  the  Four  Evangelists,  &c.  would  have 
fain  begged  it  of  the  king ;  but  he  told  him,  he  might  not  part 
with  that  rich  jewel,  for  he  daily  made  use  of  it ;  but  if  he  desired 
one,  he  made  no  question,  but  the  same  heart  and  hands  that 
framed  his,  would  fit  him  also  with  one  for  his  use;  and 
hoped  he  would  make  good  use  of  it,  for  it  was  the  book  of 
books,  &c. 

Upon  the  intimation  given  of  the  prince's  desire,  though  Mr. 
Nicholas  Ferrar,  senior,  was  then  with  God,  yet  his  young 
nephew,  that  bare  his  name,  whom  his  uncle  entirely  loved,  (not 
permitting  him  to  be  any  where  brought  up  but  at  Gidding.  and 
under  his  own  eye)  having  seen  all  the  former  works  done  in  the 
house;  his  beloved  kinswomen,  that  were  the  handy-work  mis- 
tresses of  the  former,  were  also  most  willing  to  lay  to  their  help- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  227 

ing  assistances;  so  the  young  youth,  having  attained  to  the 
knowledge  of  many  languages  (as  you  shall  hear  hereafter,  being 
a  study  that  his  wise,  judicious  uncle,  Nicholas  Ferrar,  had  put 
him  upon,  finding  him  every  way  fitted  naturally  for  such  know- 
ledge,) they  laying  their  heads  together,  thought  a  concordance 
of  four  several  languages  would  be  most  useful,  and  beneficial, 
and  pleasant  to  the  young  prince's  disposition ;  and  so,  in  the 
name  of  God,  after  all  materials  were  provided  and  ready,  they 
uniting  their  heads  and  hands  lovingly  together,  setting  apart  so 
many  hours  in  the  fore-noons,  and  so  many  in  the  afternoons,  as 
their  other  exercises  and  occasions  permitted,  constantly  met  in 
a  long  fair  spacious  room,  which  they  named  the  Concordance 
Chamber,  wherein  were  large  tables  round  the  sides  of  the  walls, 
placed  for  their  better  conveniency  and  contrivement  of  their 
works  of  this  and  the  like  kind ;  and  therein  also  were  placed 
two  very  large  and  great  presses,  which  were  turned  with  iron 
bars,  for  the  effecting  of  their  designs. 

And  now  we  are  in  the  Concordance  room  (which  was  all 
coloured  over  with  green  pleasant  colour  varnished,  for  the  more 
pleasure  to  their  eyes,  and  a  chimney  in  it  for  more  warmth,  as 
occasion  served,)  let  me  here  relate,  that  each  person  of  the 
family,  and  some  other  good  friends  of  their  kindred,  gave  each 
their  sentence,  which  should  be  written  round  the  upper  part  of 
the  walls  of  the  room ;  that  so  when  they  entered  the  chamber, 
or  at  any  time  looked  up  from  the  walls,  these  sentences  pre- 
sented themselves  to  their  eyes. — As  you  entered  in  at  the  door 
into  the  room,  over  your  head  at  that  end  was  written  that  sen- 
tence of  Scripture,  that  their  uncle,  of  blessed  memory,  did  fre- 
quently use  upon  several  occasions. 

At  the  upper  end  was  written  high  upon  the  wall — 

"  Glory  le  to  God  on  High, 
Peace  on  Earth,  Good  will  toward  Men" 

^Prosper  thou,  0  Lord,  the  work  of  our  hands. 
0 prosper  thou  our  handy  works" 

And  under  it,  (on  each  side  of  that  upper  window,)  on  the  one 
side  was  written : 

"  Thou  art  too  delicate,  0  brother,  if  thou  desirest  to  reign 
both  here  with  the  world,  and  hereafter  to  reign  with  Christ  in 


228  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

And  on  the  other  side  of  the  window ; 

"  Innocency  is  never  better  lodged  than  at  the  Sign  of  Labour" 
And  then  on  both  sides  of  the  walls  there  are  written, 

"  Love  not  sleep,  least  thou  come  to  poverty. 

Open  thine  eyes,  and  thou  shalt  be  satisfied  with  bread." 

"  He  that  spendeih  his  time — " 

"  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  business,  Jte  shall  stand  before 
kings." 

"  The  industrious  man  hath  no  leisure  to  sin ;  and  the  idle  man 
hath  no  power  to  avoid  sin." 


THIS  THIRD  WORK  thus  finished,  it  was  upon  consultation 
thought  fitting,  that  it  should  not  go  single  and  alone,  but  to  stay 
awhile  till  Nicholas  Ferrar,  junior,  had  finished  and  ordered  four 
other  pieces  of  works,  being  businesses  of  many  and  several  lan- 
guages, and  the  titles  of  them  are  those  four  succeeding  frontis- 
pieces, that  follow  one  after  the  other,  as  you  have  seen :  the 
Four  Evangelists,  in  such  and  such  languages  as  is  there  de- 
scribed, written  by  his  own  hand,  and  so  composed  by  his  head 
and  industry. 

All  these  five  pieces,  that  one  for  the  prince,  and  four  for  the 
king,  being  all  made  ready,  they  were  carried  up  to  London ;  but 
in  the  way  they  went  by  Cambridge,  and  there  were  shewed  to 
some  eminent  persons,  a  bishop  then  present  there,  and  other 
learned  scholars  (and  before  that  time,  also  to  the  bishop  of 
Peterborough,  and  other  doctors  that  there  had  sight  of  them). 
All  these  learned  men  gave  their  approbation  to  the  works,  and 
no  small  commendation,  as  well  as  admiration,  that  they  were  so 
contrived  and  ordered,  for  substance  and  form,  by  one  of  those 
tender  years. 

Nicholas  Ferrar  coming  to  London,  as  he  had  directions,  ad- 
dressed himself  to  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  from  him  to  receive 
orders  how  to  proceed.  Who  when  he  saw  the  young  man,  and 
was  informed  of  his  errand,  by  those  that  conducted  him  to  his 
presence,  the  young  man  kneeling  down,  craving  his  blessing,  and 
kissing  his  hand,  my  lord  embraced  him  very  lovingly,  took  him 
up,  and  after  some  salutes,  he  desired  a  sight  of  the  books ;  which 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  229 

when  he  had  well  seen  and  perused,  he  very  highly  commended 
them  in  every  particular,  and  said,  "  These  truly  are  jewels  only 
for  princes :  and  your  printed  one  will  greatly  take  the  prince,  to 
whom  I  perceive  you  intend  it.  So  will  the  other  four  pieces  be 
no  less  acceptable  to  the  king  himself ;  and  so  all  things,  the  form, 
the  matter,  the  writing,  will  make  the  king  admire  them,  I  know. 
And,"  said  he, '"  but  that  my  eyes  see  the  things,  I  should  hardly 
have  given  credit  to  my  ears,  from  any  relation  made  of  them  by 
another.  But,"  said  he,  "I  now  find,  great  is  education,  when  it 
meets  with  answerable  ability,  and  had  its  directions  from  so 
eminent  a  man,  as  that  counsellor  was,  that  gave  the  hints  and 
rise  to  all  these  contrivements  before  his  death."  And  after 
much  discourse  he  gave  Nicholas  Ferrar  leave  to  depart.  And 
gave  directions  that  next  day  in  the  afternoon,  being  Maundy 
Thursday,  Nicholas  Ferrar  should  be  in  such  a  room  at  White 
Hall. 

The  bishop  came  at  the  time  he  had  appointed  to  that  room, 
where  he  found  Nicholas  Ferrar  and  others  waiting  his  leisure. 
And  they  perceived  he  came  out  of  another  room  where  the  king 
then  was.  "  Come,"  said  he,  "  in  God's  name,  follow  me,  where 
I  go ;"  and  led  them  into  a  room,  where  the  king  stood  by  the 
fire,  with  many  nobles  attending  him.  When  the  king  saw  the 
archbishop  enter  the  room,  he  said,  "  What,  have  you  brought 
with  you  those  rarities  and  jewels  you  told  me  of  2"  "  Yea,  sire," 
replied  the  bishop,  "  here  is  the  young  gentleman,  and  his  works." 
So  the  bishop  taking  him  by  the  hand,  led  him  up  to  the  king. 
He  falling  down  on  his  knees,  the  king  gave  him  his  hand  to  kiss, 
bidding  him  rise  up.  The  box  was  opened ;  and  Nicholas  Ferrar 
first  presented  to  the  king  that  book  made  for  the  prince  :  who 
taking  it  from  him,  looking  well  on  the  outside,  which  was  all 
green  velvet,  stately  and  richly  gilt  all  over,  with  great  broad 
strings,  edged  with  gold  lace,  and  curiously  bound,  said,  "  Here 
is  a  fine  book  for  Charles  indeed  !  I  hope  it  will  soon  make  him 
in  love  with  what  is  within  it :  for  I  know  it  is  good."  So  open- 
ing it,  and  with  much  pleasure  perusing  it,  he  said  merrily  to  the 
lords,  "  What  think  you  of  it  ?  For  my  part,  I  like  it  in  all 
respects  exceeding  well ;  and  find  Charles  will  here  have  a  double 
benefit  by  the  well  contrivement  of  it,  not  only  obtain  by  the 
daily  reading  in  it  a  full  information  of  our  blessed  Saviour's  life, 
doctrine,  and  actions  (the  chief  foundation  of  Christian  religion ;) 
but  the  knowledge  of  four  languages,  A  couple  of  better  things 


230  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

a  prince  cannot  desire ;  nor  the  world  recommend  unto  him.     And 
lo  !  here  are  also  store  of  rare  pictures  to  delight  his  eye  with." 

Then  Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  king  looking  upon  him,  bowing 
himself  to  the  ground,  said,  "  May  it  please  your  sacred  majesty, 
this  work  was  undertaken  upon  the  prince's  command.  But  I 
dared  not  present  it  to  him,  till  it  had  your  majesty's  approbation 
and  allowance."  "  Why  so  ?"  said  the  king ;  "  It  is  an  excellent 
thing  for  him,  and  will  do  him  much  good."  "  Sir,"  said  Nicholas 
Ferrar,  "  my  learned  and  religious  wise  uncle,  under  whose  wings 
I  was  covered,  and  had  my  education  from  my  youth,  gave  me 
amongst  other  rules,  this  one  :  that  I  should  never  give  any  thing, 
though  never  so  good  or  fitting,  to  any  person  whatever,  that  had 
a  superior  over  him,  without  his  consent  and  approbation  first 
obtained  :  as  nothing  to  a  son,  to  a  wife,  to  a  servant :  for  he 
said  it  was  not  seemly  nor  comely  so  to  do.  Whereupon,  sir,  I 
have  by  the  favour  of  my  lord  of  Canterbury's  grace,  come  to 
present  this  piece  unto  your  majesty's  view,  and  to  beg  your  good 
leave  to  carry  it  to  the  prince."  The  king  with  attention  heard 
all,  and  turning  him  to  the  lords,  said,  "  You  all  hear  this  wise 
counsel,  and  you  all  see  the  practice  of  it.  I  do  assure  you,  it 
doth  wonderfully  please  me.  I  like  the  rule  well :  and  it  is  worthy 
of  all  our  practice.  And  now  you  see  we  all  have  gained  by  the 
sight  of  this  rich  jewel  a  third  good  thing."  Then  turning  him 
to  the  lord  of  Canterbury,  he  said,  "  Let  this  young  gentleman 
have  your  letters  to  the  prince  to-morrow,  to  Richmond,  and  let 
him  carry  this  present.  It  is  a  good  day  you  know,  and  a  good 
work  would  be  done  upon  it."  So  he  gave  Nicholas  Ferrar  the 
book :  who  carrying  it  to  the  box,  took  out  of  it  a  very  large 
paper  book,  which  was  the  FOURTH  WORK,  and  laid  it  on  the  table 
before  the  king.  "  For  whom,"  said  the  king,  "is  this  model?" 
"  For  your  majesty's  eyes,  if  you  please  to  honour  it  so  much." 
"  And  that  I  will  gladly  do,"  said  the  king,  "  and  never  be  weary 
of  such  sights  as  I  know  you  will  offer  unto  me." 

The  king  having  well  perused  the  title  page,  beginning,  "  The 
Gospel  of  our  Lord  and  Blessed  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  in  eight  several 
languages,  &c"  said  unto  the  lords,  "  You  all  see,  that  one  good 
thing  produceth  another.  Her<  \\v  have  more  and  moiv  r;u 
from  print  now  to  pen.  These  are  fair  hands  \\vll  written,  and  as 
well  composed."  Then  replied  the  lord  of  Canterbury,  "when 
your  majesty  hath  seen  all,  yon  \\iil  have  more  and  more  cause  to 
admire."  M  What  !"  said  tin-  kin«j,  u  is  it  possible-  we  shall  !><•- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  231 

hold  yet  more  rarities ?"  "Then,"  said  the  bishop  to  Nicholas 
Ferrar,  "  reach  the  other  piece  that  is  in  the  box :"  and  this  we 
call  the  FIFTH  WORK,  the  title  being  Novum  Testamentum,  &c.  in 
viginti  quatuor  linguis,  &c.  The  king  opening  the  book  said, 
"  Better  and  better.  This  is  the  largest  and  fairest  paper  that 
ever  I  saw."  Then,  reading  the  title  page,  he  said,  "  What  is 
this  ?  What  have  we  here  ?  The  incomparablest  book  this  will 
be,  as  ever  eye  beheld.  My  lords,  come,  look  well  upon  it.  This 
finished  must  be  the  emperor  of  all  books.  It  is  the  crown  of  all 
works.  It  is  an  admirable  master-piece.  The  world  cannot 
match  it.  I  believe  you  are  all  of  my  opinion.  The  lords  all 
seconded  the  king,  and  each  spake  his  mind  of  it.  "  I  observe 
two  things  amongst  others,"  said  the  king,  "  very  remarkable,  if 
not  admirable.  The  first  is,  how  it  is  possible,  that  a  young  man 
of  twenty-one  years  of  age,"  (for  he  had  asked  the  lord  of  Can- 
terbury before,  how  old  Nicholas  Ferrar  was)  "  should  ever  attain 
to  the  understanding  and  knowledge  of  more  languages,  than  he 
is  of  years ;  and  to  have  the  courage  to  venture  upon  such  an 
Atlas  work,  or  Hercules  labour.  The  other  is  also  of  high  com- 
mendation, to  see  him  write  so  many  several  languages,  so  well  as 
these  are,  each  in  its  proper  character.  Sure  so  few  years  had 
been  well  spent,  some  men  might  think,  to  have  attained  only  to 
the  writing  thus  fairly  of  these  twenty-four  languages."  All  the 
lords  replied,  his  majesty  had  judged  right ;  and  said,  except  they 
had  seen  as  they  did,  the  young  gentleman  there,  and  the  book 
itself,  all  the  world  should  not  have  persuaded  them  to  the  belief 
of  it.  And  so  much  discourse  passed  upon  the  business  to  and 
fro,  and  many  questions  demanded  and  answered,  here,  too  long  to 
repeat. 

"  Well,"  said  the  king  to  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  "  there  is 
one  thing  yet  that  I  would  be  fully  satisfied  in,  and  see  the  proof 
and  real  demonstration  of  it,  over  and  above  what  I  have  yet 
seen.  I  do  really  believe  and  know,  that  these  persons  here 
would  not  present  this  unto  me,  or  any  thing  else,  that  were  not 
full  of  truth.  I  say,  I  no  way  doubt  of  all  I  have  seen :  yet  if 
I  may  be  resolved  in  one  question,  that  I  shall  demand,  it  will 
wonderfully  please  me.  The  thing,  my  lord,  is  this.  Let  me,  if 
it  be  possible,  have  more  than  this  affirmation,  by  word  and  pen 
thus  shewed  me,  that  he  understands  all  these  several  languages, 
and  can  English  them,  word  for  word,  properly.  I  know  yourself, 


232  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

my  lord,  and  many  other  men  in  my  court,  can  try  and  prove  him 
in  many  of  them ;  but  where  shall  I  find  men  to  try  and  pose 
him  in  all  the  others,  that  are  so  unusual  and  scarce  known  2"  My 
lord  of  Canterbury,  being  somewhat  at  a  stand,  replied,  "  Sir, 
you  need  not  be  so  scrupulous,  but  be  confident  that  he  can  and 
doth  understand  all  of  them :"  and  then  looking  upon  Nicholas 
Ferrar,  to  see  what  he  could  say  for  himself  in  this  kind ;  who  all 
the  while  stood  silent  attending  the  end  and  upshot  of  the  king's 
demands ;  then  bowing  himself  to  the  ground  at  his  majesty's  feet, 
he  spake  in  this  manner  and  effect.  "  May  it  please  your  sacred 
majesty,  the  difficulty  you  in  your  great  wisdom  have  propounded 
so  judiciously,  to  have  a  present  proof  given  you,  that  I  understand 
all  these  several  twenty-four  languages,  and  can  translate  them 
into  English  or  Latin,  is  that  which  I  conceived  your  majesty 
would  put  me  upon,  when  you  should  see  that  which  you  have 
done  ;  and  to  that  intent  I  now  brought  with  me,  what  will  and 
may  fully  satisfy  your  majesty,  as  it  was  my  part  to  do,  and  to 
prepare  for  it  in  that  kind,  as  you  require."  "  Let  us  then  now 
see  it,"  said  the  king.  Now  you  are  to  know  that  this  proof-book 
Nicholas  Ferrar  had  of  purpose  concealed  it,  from  my  lord  of 
Canterbury,  not  shewing  it  him,  when  he  at  first  saw  the  rest  of 
them.  So  Nicholas  Ferrar  presently  stepped  to  the  box,  it  being 
covered  under  papers  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  came  and  gave  it 
into  the  king's  hands.  The  king  opening  it,  and  smiling,  reading 
the  title  page  of  it,  which  was  this,  Sacrosanctum  Sancti  Johannis 
Evangelium,  in  totidem  Linguis  quot  sunt  Capita,  &c.  "  I  now 
see  I  shall  be  fully  contented ;"  and  so  turning  the  book  all  over, 
leaf  by  leaf,  and  perusing  it,  seeing  each  chapter  interpreted  in 
each  language,  word  for  word  with  English  or  Latin,  he  called 
my  lord  of  Canterbury  to  the  table,  who  all  this  while  stood 
somewhat  in  doubt  what  this  proof  would  be ;  "  Lo  !  here  is  an 
ample  proof  and  manifestation,  wittily  contrived  ;  and  I  am  fully 
satisfied  in  all  things.  He  could  never  have  done  this,  but  that 
he  is  a  master  of  them  all.  And  I  am  the  more  glad  I  raised  the 
doubt ;  but  much  more  that  he  hath  thus  undeniably  made  a  full 
proof  of  his  rare  abilities  in  every  kind.  What  say  you  to  it,  my 
lord?"  Who  replied,  it  was  far  beyond  what  he  should  IIUM- 
thought  of ;  and  was  right  glad  to  see  it.  So  many  questions 
were  asked  and  answered  to  the  king's  good  liking.  Tlu-  kin«r 
turning  to  the  rest  of  the  lords,  who  also  took  the  book  and  \\«T<- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  233 

admiring  at  it,  and  spake  of  it  in  no  small  way  of  commendation, 
said,  "  We  have  spent  part  of  our  Maimday  Thursday  to  good 
purpose,  have  we  not,  my  lords,  think  your1  They  all  replied 
they  had  seen  those  good  things  and  rarities,  that  they  never  did 
before,  nor  should  see  the  like  they  believed  again  for  the  future. 
"  It  is  very  rightly  said,"  said  the  king.  So  looking  upon  Nicho- 
las Ferrar  he  willed  him,  that  he  should  go  the  next  morning  to 
Richmond,  and  carry  the  prince  the  book  made  for  hiui.  "  And 
after  the  holiday,"  said  he,  "  return  to  my  Lord  of  Canterbury ; 
and  then  you  shall  know  my  good  approbation  of  yourself  and 
all  you  have  done  ;  and  he  shall  signify  to  you  my  will  and  plea- 
sure, what  I  will  have  you  to  do,  and  where  you  are  to  go." 

So  dismissing  him  with  a  cheerful  royal  look,  the  king  said  to 
my  lord  of  Canterbury,  "  Alas  !  what  pity  is  it,  that  this  youth 
hath  not  his  speech,  altogether  so  ready  as  his  pen,  and  great 
understanding  is."  For  the  king  had  observed,  that  sometimes 
at  the  first  bringing  out  his  words,  he  would  make  a  small  pause  ; 
but  once  having  begun,  he  spake  readily  and  roundly,  as  other 
men  did.  "  Sir,"  said  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  "  I  conceive  that 
small  impediment  in  his  tongue  hath  been  very  happy  for  him." 
"How  can  you,  my  lord,  make  that  good?"  "  Sir,"  said  he, 
"  out  of  doubt,  the  small  defect  in  that  one  tongue  hath  gained, 
by  the  directions  of  that  learned  and  wise  uncle  of  his,  that 
directed  him  to  the  study  of  all  these  languages,  (as  finding  his 
great  abilities  of  wit,  memory,  and  industry,)  the  attaining  of 
them,  and  producing  these  and  the  like  rare  works,  that  you  see, 
done  by  him  to  admiration.  So  oftentimes  God,  in  his  great 
wisdom  and  love,  turns  those  things,  we  account  our  prejudice, 
to  our  greatest  happiness,  if  with  pleasure  and  chearfulness  we 
undergo  them,  and  to  his  own  further  glory.  So  that  neither  he 
nor  his  parents  have  cause  to  grieve  at  that  small  defect  he  hath 
in  his  one  tongue,  that  by  it  hath  gained  so  many  more,  that 
make  him  more  eminent,  than  that  one  could  have  done.  For 
certainly,  sir,  so  many  other  abilities  that  are  united  in  the  young 
man,  had  taken  and  put  him  upon  some  other  studies,  than  this 
of  languages,  if  this  small  imperfection  had  not  accompanied  it : 
and  instead  of  one  mother  tongue,  he  hath  gained  twenty-four ; 
a  full  recompence  I  take  it  to  be."  "  Well,"  said  the  king,  "  you 
have  somewhat  to  the  purpose,  my  lord."  Then  said  my  lord  of 
Holland,  "  He  should  do  well  to  carry  always  in  his  mouth  some 
small  pebble  stones,  that  would  (help)  him  much."  "  Nay,  nay," 


234  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

said  the  king,  "  I  have  tried  that 5,  but  it  helps  not.  I  will  tell 
him  the  best  and  surest  way  is  to  take  good  deliberation  at  first, 
and  not  to  be  too  sudden  in  speech.  And  let  him  also  learn  to 
sing,  that  will  do  well."  Then  said  one  of  the  lords  to  Nicholas 
Ferrar,  "  Do  you  not  learn  to  sing,  and  music  also  ?"  He  replied 
he  did.  So  humble  reverence  done,  Nicholas  Ferrar  going 
away,  my  lord  of  Canterbury  stepped  to  Nicholas  Ferrar  and 
told  him,  he  must  not  fail  to  come  to  Lambeth,  and  call 
for  his  letter  in  the  morning,  for  bishop  Duppa,  the  prince's 
tutor. 

This  was  done  next  morning ;  and  so  in  a  coach  with  four 
horses,  Nicholas  Ferrar  went  to  Richmond,  with  some  other  com- 
pany of  his  friends.  Coming  to  Richmond,  the  bishop's  secretary 
acquainted  his  lord,  of  a  letter  sent  to  him  by  the  lord  of  Canter- 
bury. The  bishop  was  then  with  the  prince,  who  coming  from 
him,  Nicholas  Ferrar  delivered  him  the  letter.  The  contents 
read,  he  imbraced  Nicholas  Ferrar,  who  kneeled  down  to  crave 
his  blessing,  and  kiss  his  hands.  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  called  for 
to  come  in  to  the  prince,  who  gave  him  his  hand  to  kiss.  He 
presented  the  book  unto  him.  The  prince  hastily  opened  it,  say- 
ing, "  Here's  a  gallant  outside :"  gave  it  then  to  the  bishop :  he 
read  the  title-page  and  frontis-piece.  Then  the  prince  took  it, 
and  turning  it  all  over,  leaf  by  leaf,  said,  "  Better  and  better." 
The  courtiers  that  stood  about  him,  demanded  how  he  liked  that 
rare  piece.  "  Well,  well,  very,"  said  he.  "  It  pleaseth  me  exceed- 
ingly ;  and  I  wish  daily  to  read  in  it."  So  many  questions  were 
asked  and  answered.  And  the  little  duke  of  York,  having  also 
seen  the  book,  and  fine  pictures  in  it,  came  to  Nicholas  Ferrar, 
and  said  unto  him,  "  Will  you  not  make  me  also  such  another 

5  /  have  tried  that.]  The  king  here  alludes  to  the  imperfections  of  his  own 
utterance  :  respecting  which  an  interesting  circumstance  is  recorded  by  sir 
Philip  Warwick.  He  is  speaking  of  a  critical  season;  the  three  days  of 
Charles's  appearance  on  his  trial  before  the  regicides. 

"  The  king's  deportment  was  very  majestic  and  steady ;  and  though  his 
tongue  usually  hesitated  yet  it  was  free  at  this  time ;  for  he  was  never  dis- 
composed in  mind." — Memoirs,  p.  339. 

His  elder  brother,  prince  Henry,  had  suffered  under  a  similar  imperfection. 

"  His  speech,"  says  sir  Charles  Cornwallis,  treasurer  of  his  household, 
"  was  slow  and  somewhat  impedimented.  .  .  .  Oftentimes  he  would  say  of 
himself,  that  he  had  the  most  unserviceahle  tongue  of  any  man  living."— Dis- 
course of  the  most  illustrious  prince  Henry,  &c.  Harleian  Miscellany,  vol.  iv. 
p.  339,  40. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  235 

fine  book  ?  I  pray  you  do  it."  Nicholas  Ferrar  replied,  his  grace 
should  not  fail  to  have  one  made  for  him  also.  But  said  the 
duke,  "  How  long  will  it  be  before  I  have  it?"  "  With  all  good 
speed,"  said  Nicholas  Ferrar.  "  But  how  long  time  will  that  be  ? 
I  pray  tell  the  gentle-women  at  Gidding,  I  will  heartily  thank 
them,  if  they  will  dispatch  it."  (For  he  had  heard  Nicholas 
Ferrar  tell  the  prince,  who  questioned  with  him,  who  bound  the 
book  so  finely,  and  made  it  so  neatly  and  stately,  and  had  laid  on 
all  the  pictures  so  curiously ;  that  it  was  done  by  the  art  and 
hands  of  his  kins- women  at  Gidding.)  All  the  courtiers  standing 
by,  heartily  laughed  to  see  the  duke's  earnestness,  who  would 
have  no  nay ;  but  a  promise  speedily  to  have  one  made  for  him 6, 
like  his  brother's.  The  prince  at  last  went  to  dinner,  expressing 
much  joy  at  his  book. 

The  bishop  took  Nicholas  Ferrar  by  the  hand,  and  with  great 
demonstration  of  favour  led  him  into  a  room,  where  divers  young 
lords  were,  the  duke  of  Buckingham  and  others,  who  sitting  down 
to  dinner,  the  bishop  placed  Nicholas  Ferrar  by  the  table  at  his 
side.  The  bishop  demanded  many  questions  at  table  concerning 
Gidding,  to  which  he  received  satisfaction ;  saying,  my  lord  of 
Canterbury's  letters  had  informed  him  of  what  had  passed  before 
the  king  at  White  Hall ;  and  of  the  rare  pieces  which  were 
shewed  the  king,  whereof  he  said  he  hoped  one  day  to  have  the 
happiness  to  see  them ;  and  said,  "  This  present  given  the  prince 
was  very  acceptable,  and  he  made  no  question  but  the  prince  would 
receive  not  only  much  pleasure  in  it,  but  great  good  by  it  in  every 
kind." 

After  dinner  ended,  and  other  courtiers  come  to  talk  with 
Nicholas  Ferrar,  the  bishop  departed  the  room,  and  not  long 
after  came  in  again ;  took  Nicholas  Ferrar  by  the  hand,  and  car- 
ried him  into  a  room,  where  the  prince  was,  the  duke,  and  divers 
court  ladies  looking  upon  the  book.  The  bishop  after  a  while 
told  the  prince  what  books  were  presented  to  the  king  his  father, 
at  White  Hall.  The  prince  demanded  to  see  them  also :  but  the 
bishop  said  they  were  left  there.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "I  would  you 
had  brought  them,  that  I  might  also  have  seen  those  rare  things." 
So  after  many  questions  demanded  and  answered,  it  growing  late, 
Nicholas  Ferrar  craved  leave  to  depart;  and  humbly  bowing 

6  One  made  for  him.']  In  the  margin  it  is  added,  "  The  book  which  was 
made  and  printed  for  the  duke  never  had  opportunity  to  be  presented  to  his 
grace.  It  is  yet  still  at  Gidding." 


236  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

himself  to  the  prince,  the  prince  rose  up,  and  came  towards  him, 
and  moving  his  hat,  the  bishop  standing  by  him,  said,  u  I  am 
much  beholden  to  you,  for  the  jewel  you  have  given  rne,  and  for 
the  contrivement  of  it ;  and  to  the  Gidding  gentlewomen,  that 
have  taken  so  much  pains  about  it,  to  make  it  so  curious  a  piece." 
Then  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  pulled  out  a  handful  of 
twenty  shillings  pieces  of  gold,  saying  (Nicholas  Ferrar  stepping 
back),  "  Nay,  I  do  not  give  you  this  as  any  reward  in  recompence 
of  your  book,  for  I  esteem  it  every  way  above  much  gold  ;  and 
prize  it  at  a  far  greater  rate.  Only  you  shall  take  this  as  a  pre- 
sent testimony  of  my  acceptance  of  it,  and  my  esteem  of  you.  I 
shall  study  how  I  may  in  the  future  let  all  know  how  much  I 
deem  of  your  worth,  and  the  book  :"  and  so  gave  him  his  handful 
of  gold.  And  so  Nicholas  Ferrar  departing,  divers  courtiers 
would  needs  accompany  him  to  his  coach,  and  the  bishop  down 
stairs.  And  so,  with  great  demonstration  of  much  civility  they 
parted,  the  bishop  willing  his  secretary  to  accompany  him  to  the 
coach. 

Saturday  morning  repair  was  made  to  the  bishop  of  Canterbury, 
to  let  him  know  what  had  passed  at  Richmond ;  for  so  he  had 
given  order  ;  who  said  he  much  longed  to  know  what  entertain- 
ment was  given  to  the  book,  and  person.  He  liked  all  well  that 
passed,  and  said  he  was  right  glad,  that  things  went  as  he  hoped ; 
and  should  acquaint  the  king  with  all.  Then  taking  Nicholas 
Ferrar's  father  aside,  he  said,  "  Let  your  care  now  cease  for  your 
hopeful  son,  or  for  his  future  preferment,  or  estate,  or  present 
maintenance.  God  hath  so  inclined  the  king's  heart,  and  his 
liking  to  your  son,  and  the  gifts  God  hath  indued  him  with  ;  :md 
having  been  informed  of  his  virtuous,  pious  education,  and  singular 
industry  and  Christian  deportment,  and  of  his  sober  inclination, 
that  he  will  take  him  from  you  into  his  own  protection  and  car--. 
and  make  him  his  scholar  and  servant ;  and  hath  given  me  order, 
that  after  the  holidays  being  past,  I  should  send  him  to  Oxford  ; 
and  that  there  he  shall  be  maintained  in  all  things  needful  for 
him  at  the  king's  proper  charge;  and  shall  not  (need)  what  he 
can  desire,  to  further  him  in  the  prosecution  of  these  works  he 
hath  begun  in  matter  of  lan^ua^es  :  and  what  help  of  books,  or 
h»-ads,  or  hands  he  shall  require,  he  shall  not  be  unfurnished  with  ; 
for  the  king  would  have  this  work  of  the  New  Te>tament.  in 
t \\enty-fnur  lan^uaiM'-.  t<»  be  accomplished  by  his  care  andas>i>t 
ance  ;  and  to  have  the  help  of  all  the  learned  men  that  can 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  237 

had,  to  that  end.  Assure  yourself  he  shall  want  nothing.  In  a 
word  the  king  is  greatly  in  love  with  him :  and  you  will,  and 
have  cause  to  bless  and  praise  God  for  such  a  son."  So  John 
Ferrar  being  ravished  with  joy,  in  all  humble  manner  gave  thanks 
to  my  lord's  grace.  And  they  returning  to  Nicholas  Ferrar,  my 
lord  embraced  him,  and  gave  him  his  benediction.  Nicholas 
Ferrar  kneeling  down,  took  the  bishop  by  the  hand,  and  kissed 
it.  He  took  him  up  in  his  arms,  and  laid  his  hand  to  his  cheek, 
and  earnestly  besought  God  Almighty  to  bless  him,  and  increase 
all  graces  in  him,  and  fit  him  every  day  more  and  more  for  an 
instrument  of  his  glory  here  upon  earth,  and  a  saint  in  heaven ; 
"  which,"  said  he,  "  is  the  only  happiness  that  can  be  desired, 
and  ought  to  be  our  chief  end  in  all  our  actions.  God  bless  you  ! 
God  bless  you  !  I  have  told  your  father,  what  is  to  be  done  for 
you,  after  the  holidays.  God  will  provide  for  you,  better  than 
your  father  can: — God  bless  you!  and  keep  you!"  So  they 
parted  from  his  grace. 

But  he  never  saw  him  more  !  for  within  a  few  days  after 7, 
Nicholas  Ferrar  fell  ill :  and  on  Easter  day  he  was  desirous, 
being  next  morning  (having  found  himself  not  well  the  day 
before)  to  receive  the  communion  at  Paul's,  whither  he  went 
early  in  the  morning,  and  communicated  ;  and  returning  home, 
had  little  appetite  to  his  dinner,  eating  little  or  nothing.  He 
went  yet  to  a  sermon  in  the  afternoon  ;  but  at  night  grew  some- 
what worse.  And  on  Monday  morning,  his  father  with  all  care 
and  diligence  went  to  a  learned  physician,  who  came  and  visited 
him,  and  gave  him  what  he  thought  fitting ;  but  he  grew  worse 
and  worse.  Then  was  another  physician  joined  to  the  first. 
They  consulted,  and  prescribed  things  for  him,  but  he  mended 
not;  but  with  great  patience  and  chearfulness  did  bear  his 
sickness,  and  was  very  comfortable  in  it  to  all  that  came  to  visit 
him,  wholly  referring  himself  to  God's  good  will  and  pleasure ; 
only  telling  his  friends,  and  the  bishop  of  Peterborough,  doctor 
Towers,  that  loved  him  dearly,  and  came  to  visit  him  twice  in 
that  short  time,  that  he  was  no  way  troubled  to  die,  and  to  go  to 
heaven,  where  he  knew  was  only  peace  and  quiet  and  joys  per- 
manent, whereas  all  things  in  the  world  were  but  trouble  and 
vexation :  and  death  must  be  the  end  of  all  men  ;  and  he  that 
went  soonest  to  heaven,  was  the  happiest  man.  The  bishop 

7  A  few  days  after.']  "  Easter-Eve."     Margin  of  the  manuscript. 


2.38  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

would  say,  when  he  went  away,  and  had  a  long  time  talked  with 
him,  that  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  better  prepared  to  die  than  he, 
and  was  a  true  child  of  God  :  and  could  comfort  himself  in  God, 
without  directions  from  him,  or  others  :  that  his  pious  education 
under  his  pious  uncle  of  blessed  memory,  his  old  and  dear  friend, 
was  now  shewed  forth  in  these  his  so  young  years,  that  they  had 
taken  mighty  root  downward,  and  in  his  soul,  and  now  sprang  up 
with  not  only  leaves  and  fair  blossoms,  but  with  good  and  ripe 
fruit  of  heavenly  matters.  It  joyed  his  heart  to  see  him  so  dis- 
posed to  God-ward,  and  to  so  willingly  leave  the  world,  and  the 
late  testimonies  of  worth,  that  he  had  received  from  the  b< 
the  land.  That  sure  he  was  too  good  longer  to  stay  here.  God 
would  take  him  to  heaven  ;  and  willed  his  father  to  prepare  for 
his  departure ;  and  to  take  it  with  all  thankfulness  to  God ; 
and  not  look  what  himself  he  might  think  had  here  lost  on 
earth,  but  to  that  crown  which  his  good  son,  by  the  mercies 
of  God,  and  merits  of  his  Saviour,  he  was  persuaded  would 
soon  enjoy  in  heaven.  "  He  is  too  good ;  he  is  too  good," 
said  he,  "to  live  longer  in  these  ill  approaching  times.  For 
there  is  much  fear  now  that  the  glory  of  church  and  state  is  at 
the  highest/1  For  then  tumults  began :  and  the  bishop  of 
Canterbury's  house  at  Lambeth 8,  was  one  night  assaulted  by  a 
rabble  of  lewd  people  ;  which  when  Nicholas  Ferrar  was  told  one 
morning,  as  he  lay  in  his  sick  bed,  "  Alas  !  alas  ! "  said  he,  "  God 
help  his  church,  and  poor  England !  I  now  fear  indeed,  what 
my  dear  uncle  said  before  he  died,  is  at  hand,  that  evil  days  were 
coming,  and  happy  were  they  that  went  to  heaven  before  they 
came.  Can  or  will  the  insolency  of  such  a  rabble  be  unpunished  ? 
It  is  high  time  that  supreme  authority  take  care  of  these  growing 
evils.  God  amend  all !  Truly,  truly,  it  troubles  me/'  And  wlu-n 
at  other  times  some  friend  would  say  to  him.  "  Good  cousin, 
are  you  not  grieved  to  leave  this  world ;  you  are  now  so  young, 
and  in  the  flower  of  your  youth  and  hopes  ?"  He  would  cheerfully 
answer,  "  No,  truly ;  I  leave  all  to  God's  good  will  and  pleasure, 
that  is  my  best  father,  and  knoweth  what  is  best  for  me.  Alas  !  I 
am  too  young  to  be  mine  own  judge,  what  is  best  for  me,  to  die 


8  At  Lambeth.']  In  the  church-warden's  accounts  of  the  parish  of  Lamlu-th 
in  this  year,  1640,  is  the  following  entry  : 

"  May  8th,  Paide  for  trayning  when  the  mutinie  was  in  Lambeth 

againest  the  archbishopp £1     o     <>." 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  239 

or  live ;  but  let  all  be,  as  God's  will  is.  If  I  live,  I  desire  it  may 
be  to  his  further  glory,  and  mine  own  soul's  good,  and  the 
comfort  and  service,  that  I  intend  to  be  to  my  father,  that  loves 
me  so  dearly,  and  in  his  old  age  to  be  his  servant.  If  I  die,  I 
hope  my  father  will  submit  all  to  God's  will  and  pleasure,  and 
rejoice  at  my  happiness  in  heaven,  where  by  the  merits  of  my 
blessed  Lord  and  Saviour,  I  know  I  shall  go  out  of  this  wretched 
life."  In  this  manner,  and  upon  the  visits  of  friends,  he  would 
discourse ;  and  the  bishop  came  to  him  two  days  before  he 
died,  and  found  him  most  cheerful  to  die,  and  to  be  with  God,  as 
he  would  say  to  him  ;  who  gave  him  absolution,  and  with  many 
tears  departed,  saying  to  his  father,  "  God  give  you  consolation ; 
and  prepare  yourself  to  part  with  your  good  son.  He  will,  in  a 
few  hours,  I  think,  go  to  a  better  world  :  for  he  is  no  way  for 
this,  that  I  see,  by  his  body  and  by  his  soul.  Be  of  good  comfort ; 
you  give  him  but  again  to  him,  that  gave  him  you  for  a  season." 
And  in  two  days  after,  God  took  him  away ;  who  died  praying 
and  calling  upon  God,  "  Lord  Jesus  receive  my  soul !  Lord 
receive  it!"  Amen. 


This  following  EPITAPH  will  more  at  large  inform  the  reader 
concerning  Nicholas  Ferrar  junior,  his  life  and  death,  briefly  thus 
expressed  by  a  friend  of  his,  Mr.  Mark  Frank,  once  fellow  of 
Pembroke  Hall  in  Cambridge. 

Lector, 

quisquis  es 

f  vel  sortis  humanae  "| 

quern  <      vel  elusse  spei      >  miseret, 

[_  vel  ereptse  virtutis  J 
Siste  te  paulum  ad  hoc  lachrymarum  monumentum, 

Sepulchrum  Nicolai 
generosse  Ferrarorum  families  hseredis ; 

piissimi  illius  Nicolai, 

quern  ipse  orbis  admiratur 

tanquam  unicum  integree  virtutis  domicilium, 

Charissimi  nepotis : 
Londini,  si  patriam  quseris,  oriundi, 
Geddingce  Parva,  juxta  Venantodunum,  educati. 

Juvenis  nimirum 
qui,  inter  privatas  illas  solitudines, 

Stupenda  sua  indole  actus 
Ipsum  sibi  Academiam  habuit. 


240  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Qui  ad  vicesimam  tertiam  linguara 
vix  tutorem  habuit,  vix  indiguit, 

vix  annos  petiit ; 
Et  tamen  annorum  numerum  linguis  duabiis 

superavit : 
tngenio  quam  annis  major. 

iGrammatica,  Necessitati, 
Historia,  Otio, 
Philosophia,  Studio,      I   f  .. 
Mathematica,  Voluptati,  ' 
Musica,  Pietati, 
Theologia,  Praxi, 

Qui 

eleganti,  admiranda  potius  industria 

in  sacris  concinnandis  Harmon iis 

(quibus  ne  verbum  aut  superesse 

aut  deesse  Evangelistis  ostenditur) 

Regi  et  Aulae  cognitus 
Et  doctrinae  simul  et  religionis  specimen  dedit. 

f  Precibua  "I 
Qui  <     Jejuniis    >  crebris, 


( 


f  Precibus  "1 
li  <     Jejuniis    > 
I    Vigiliis    J 


Abstiiientia  perpetua 

vel  a  primo  decennio  Deo  inserviit 

Familiae  suae  et  exemplum,  et  solatium  pietatis ; 

summae  erga  parentes  obedientiae, 

singularis  erga  amicos  amicitiae, 

eximiae  erga  omnes  humanitatis, 

profusae  erga  pauperes  benignitatis, 

Verbis,  Veste,  Vita,  sobrius,  modestus,  humilimus, 

C  ParentumVota   1 

Qui  in  omnibus  \  Amicorum  Spem  f  longe  post  se  reliquit. 
*•  Omnium  Fidem  ^ 

Nee  hie  stetit ; 

dum  majora  adhuc  anhelans 

nullum  studiis  suis  statuerat 

nisi  Universae  Naturae  terminum. 

Sed  Natura  praepropere  terminum  posuit 

ne  deesset  tandem  velocissimo  ingenio 

quod  evolveret. 

Libentissimi  hie  assensit 

ut  mens,  nondum  satiata  scientiis 

inveniret  in  Deo  quod  in  terris  non  potuit. 

Inde  est 

Amicorum  dolori,  reipublicae  literariae  damno, 
Spei  humanse  confusioni,  gloriae  tamen  suap 

quod  hinc  abiit 
vel  ad  Doctorum  vel  Virginum  Chorum, 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  241 

Anno 

Regis  Carol!  XVI0. 
.Etatis  s\i3d  XXI0. 

Christ!  MDCXL 

Die  Maii  XIX0. 


There  was  found  amongst  other  papers  in  his  study  this  follow- 
ing; in  this  manner,  that  all  might  be  printed  in  one  book 
together,  at  one  view  to  be  seen,  in  two  pages  of  the  book,  as  it 
opened,  twenty-five  on  one  side,  twenty-five  on  the  other. 

Novum  Domini  Nostri  Jesu  Christ! 

Testamentum, 

Lingua 

1.  Hebraica.  26.  Anglica. 

2.  Syriaca.  27.  Saxonica. 

3.  Aj-abica.  28.  Italica. 

4.  Chaldaica.  29.  Gallica. 

5.  ^Ethiopica.  30.  Hispanica. 

6.  Samaritanica.  31.  Belgica. 

7.  Armenica.  32.  Gothica. 

8.  Cophtica.  33.  Vandalica. 

9.  Sclavonica.  34.  Estonica. 

10.  Moscovitica.  35.  Prutenica. 

11.  Grseca.  36.  Jazigica. 

12.  Latina.  37.  Illyrica. 

13.  Carabro-Britannica.  38.  Epirotica. 

14.  Hibernica.  39.  Persica. 

15.  Monica.  40.  Georgiana. 

16.  Hungarica.  41.  Turcica. 

17.  Cantabrica.  42.  Tartarica. 

18.  Cauchica.  43.  Jacobitica. 

19.  Wallaccica.  44.  Indica  orientali. 

20.  Rhaetica.  45.  Japonica. 

21.  Islandica.  46.  Danica. 

22.  Swedica.  47.  Polonica. 

23.  Finennica.  48.  Bohemica. 

24.  Livonica.  49.  Lusatica. 

25.  Germanica.  50.  Indica  Occident,  vel  Americana. 

This  by  the  help  of  God  I  intend  to  effect:  and  also  to  translate  the 
Church  Catechism  into  these  languages;  so  likewise  the  117  psalm, 
"  Praise  the  Lord  all  ye  heathens :  praise  him  all  ye  nations,"  and  pre- 
sent them  to  the  king,  that  he  may  print  them,  and  send  them  to  all 
nations,  &c. 

VOL.   IV.  Jl 


242  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

7.  SEVENTH  WORK. 

The  whole  law  of  God,  as  it  is  delivered  in  the  five  books  of  Moses, 
methodically  distributed  into  three  great  classes,  moral,  ceremonial,  political. 
And  each  of  these  again  subdivided  into  several  heads  as  the  variety  of 
matter  requires ;  wherein  each  particular  subject  dispersedly  related  in  the 
forenamed  books,  is  reduced  to  the  proper  head  and  place  whereunto  it 
belongeth.  Containing  in  all  three  hundred  thirty-three  heads  :  also  every 
head  of  the  political  law  is  reduced  to  that  precept  of  the  moral  law,  to  which 
it  properly  belongs ;  likewise  there  are  sundry  treatises,  shewing  in  what, 
and  how,  divers  of  the  ceremonial  laws  were  shadows  and  types  of  the 
Messiah  that  was  to  come.  And  also  in  what  Adam,  Abel,  Noah,  Abram, 
Isaac,  Joseph,  Moses,  Aaron,  Joshua,  Gideon,  Jephtha,  Samson,  David, 
Solomon  and  his  Temple,  Elisha,  Job,  Daniel,  Jonah,  the  pillar  fire,  the  Red 
Sea,  the  rock,  and  manna,  were  all  figures  of  our  Lord  and  blessed  Saviour 
J.  Christ. 

With  an  harmony  of  all  the  prophets,  foretelling  the  birth,  life,  and  death 
of  Jesus  Christ  that  was  to  come  ;  to  confirm  the  Christian  and  convince  the 
Jew :  together  with  a  discourse  of  the  twelve  stones  in  Aaron's  pectoral,  their 
several  virtues,  &c. 

As  also  an  harmonical  parallel  between  the  types  of  the  O.  Testament, 
and  the  four  Evangelists'  relations  concerning  our  dear  Lord  and  Saviour, 
respectively  prefigured  by  the  holy  prophets,  and  other  sacred  writers. 
Moreover  there  are  divers  treatises  showing  how,  and  in  what  manner,  times 
and  places,  the  several  promises  and  threatenings,  foretold  by  Moses,  did 
accordingly  befal  the  Jews  :  with  the  fulfilling  also  of  our  Saviour's  prophecy 
in  the  destruction  of  their  city  and  temple,  and  the  desolation  of  the  land  of 
Jewry  :  with  the  miseries  which  the  Jews  have  sustained  under  many  nations, 
and  in  particular  here  in  England,  France,  Spain,  Germany,  &c.  and  their 
strange  dispositions,  and  God's  judgment  on  them  to  this  day. 

All  to  testify  the  truth  of  the  Divine  Oracles. 

This  work  is  also  set  forth  with  abundance  of  pictures,  the  better  to  express 
the  stories  and  contents  of  it. 

This  precedent  work,  called  the  Seventh  piece,  was  also  contrived  in 
Nicholas  Ferrar's  lifetime,  and  a  draught  of  it  made,  though  not  altogether  9 
with  the  additions  and  annexations  to  it :  but  was  after  his  death  contrived 
fully,  as  in  the  manner  before  set  down  :  and  made  for  the  prince's  use,  to 
be  presented  to  him,  by  the  advice  of  some  judicious  and  learned  friends, 
that  held  it  a  work  worthy  of  his  acceptance,  and  might  be  both  of  pleasure 
and  contentment,  and  useful  to  him  in  many  kinds. 


9  Though  not  altogether.']  "  But  in  his  lifetime,  he  gave  one  in  this  kind  to 
the  bishop  of  Canterbury,  containing  only  the  first  part  of  the  whole  Law  of 
God.  This  the  bishop  sent  to  the  university  Library  of  Oxford,  where 
there  it  is  to  be  now  seen,  bound  up,  and  so  done  by  the  hands  of  the 
Virgins  of  (Jiddinir.  in  green  velvet,  fairly  bound  and  gilt."  Marginal  note 
in  the  MS. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  243 

It  so  happened  that  in  the  year  1 642  the  troubles  in  this  land 
began  to  grow  to  height ;  and  the  king  and  prince  were  forced 
by  the  disorders  at  London  to  repair  to  York.  And  the  king 
lodging  with  the  prince  and  some  other  nobility  at  Huntingdon 
one  night,  'the  next  day  afternoon  it  was  his  gracious  pleasure  to 
come  and  honour  Little  Gidding  with  his  royal  presence,  the 
prince  attending  him,  the  palsgrave,  the  duke  of  Lennox,  and 
divers  other  nobles ;  and  where  his  majesty  staid  some  hours. 

First  he  went  to  view  the  chapel,  and  was  pleased  to  express 
his  good  liking  of  it,  saying,  it  was  a  fine  neat  thing.  "  But," 
said  he,  "  where  are  those  images,  &c.  so  much  talked  of?"  An- 
swer was  made,  "  Such  as  his  majesty  now  beheld  it,  was  all  that 
ever  was  there  seen,  or  in  it."  He  smiling  said  to  the  duke  and 
palsgrave,  "  I  knew  it  full  well,  that  never  any  were  in  it.  But 
what  will  not  malice  invent  ?"  One  lord  said,  "  It  was  affirmed 
to  me,  that  there  was  a  cross  in  one  of  the  windows  in  painted 
glass."  Answer  was  made,  "  Never  any,  but  that,  if  so  they 
meant  it,  that  was  upon  the  crown,  that  there  was  placed  upon 
the  lion's  head,  that  did,  in  the  west  window  at  the  entry  into  the 
church  over  the  door,  stand,  where  the  king's  arms l  were  placed 
in  painted  glass,  and  the  lion  that  supported  the  arms  had  on  the 
crown  he  wore  on  his  head  a  little  cross,  as  was  ever  used  in  the 
king's  arms  and  supporters :  and  this  was  all  the  crosses  that 
ever  were  seen  in  Gidding  church ;  or  any  other  painted  glass  or 
pictures."  The  king  looking  up  upon  it,  said,  "  What  strange 
reports  are  in  the  world  ! "  So  the  prince,  palsgrave  and  duke  all 
smiled  ;  and  the  duke  said,  "  Envy  was  quick-sighted.'1'' — "  Nay," 
said  the  palsgrave,  "  can  see  what  is  not" 

Then  the  king  was  pleased  to  go  into  the  house,  and  demanded 
where  the  great  book  was  that  he  had  heard  was  made  for 
Charles's  use.  It  was  soon  brought  unto  him ;  and  the  largeness 
and  weight  of  it  was  such  that  he  that  carried  it  seemed  to  be 
well  laden.  Which  the  duke  observing,  said,  "  Sir,  one  of  your 
strongest  guard  will  but  be  able  to  carry  this  book."  It  being 
laid  on  the  table  before  the  king,  it  was  told  him,  that  though  it 
were  then  fairly  bound  up  in  purple  velvet,  that  the  outside  was 
not  fully  finished,  as  it  should  be,  for  the  prince's  use  and  better 
liking.  "  Well,"  said  the  king,  "  it  is  very  well  done."  So  he 
opened  the  book,  the  prince  standing  at  the  table's  end,  and  the 
palsgrave  and  duke  on  each  side  of  the  king.  The  king  read  the 

1  King's  arms.']  See  note  in  vol.  iii.  p.  233. 
R    2 


244  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

title-page  and  frontispiece  all  over  very  deliberately:  and  well 
viewing  the  form  of  it,  and  how  adorned  with  a  stately  garnish  of 
pictures,  &c.  and  the  curiousness  of  the  writing  of  it,  said, 
"  Charles,  here  is  a  book  that  contains  excellent  things.  This 
will  make  you  both  wise  and  good."  Then  he  proceeded  to  turn 
it  over  leaf  by  leaf,  and  took  exact  notice  of  all  in  it :  and  it  being 
full  of  pictures  of  sundry  men's  cuts,  he  could  tell  the  palsgrave, 
who  seemed  also  to  be  knowing  in  that  kind  2,  that  this  and  this, 
and  that  and  that,  were  of  such  a  man's  graving  and  invention. 
The  prince  all  the  while  greatly  eyed  all  things,  and  seemed 
much  to  be  pleased  with  the  book.  The  king  having  spent  some 
hours  in  the  perusal  of  it,  and  demanding  many  questions, 
occasion  was,  concerning  the  contrivement  of  it,  having  received 
answers  to  all  he  demanded,  at  length  said,  "  It  was  only  a 
jewel  for  a  prince :  and  hoped  Charles  would  make  good  use  of 
it.  And  I  see  and  find  by  what  I  have  myself  received  for- 
merly from  this  good  house,  that  they  go  on  daily  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  these  excellent  pieces.  They  are  brave  employments  of 
their  time."  The  palsgrave  said  to  the  prince,  "  Sir,  your  father 
the  king  is  master  of  the  goodliest  ship  in  the  world ;  and  I  may 
now  say,  you  will  be  master  of  the  gallantest  greatest  book  in  the 
world.  For  I  never  saw  such  paper  before ;  and  believe  there  is 
no  book  of  this  largeness  to  be  seen  in  Christendom."  "  The 
paper  and  the  book  in  all  conditions,"  said  the  king,  "  I  believe 
is  not  to  be  matched.  Here  hath  also  in  this  book  not  wanted, 
you  see,  skill,  care,  nor  cost."  "  It  is  a  most  admirable  piece," 
replied  the  duke  of  Richmond.  So  the  king  closing  the  book, 
said,  "  Charles  this  is  yours."  He  replied,  "  But,  sir,  shall  I 
not  now  have  it  with  me?"  Reply  was  made  by  one  of  the 

"  Knowing  in  that  kind.']  "  It  is  a  trite  observation,  that  gunpowder  was 
discovered  by  a  monk,  and  printing  by  a  soldier.  It  is  an  additional  honour 
to  the  latter  profession  to  have  invented  mezzotinto.  .  .  .  Born  with  the  taste  of 
an  uncle,  whom  his  sword  was  not  fortunate  in  defending,  prince  Rupert  was 
fond  of  those  sciences  which  soften  and  adorn  a  hero's  private  hours ;  and  knew 
how  to  mix  them  with  his  minutes  of  amusement,  without  dedicating  his  life  to 
their  pursuit,  like  us,  who,  wanting  capacity  for  momentous  views,  make  serious 
study  of  what  is  only  the  transitory  occupation  of  a  genius.  Had  the  court 
of  the  first  Charles  been  peaceful,  how  agreeably  had  the  prince's  congenial 
prosperity  flattered  and  confirmed  the  inclination  of  his  uncle.  How  the 
muse  of  arts  would  have  repaid  the  patronage  of  the  monarch,  when  for  his 
first  artist  she  would  have  presented  him  with  his  nephew  /"—Horace 
Walpole's  Catalogue  of  Engravers,  &c.  edit.  1786.  p.  133-5. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  245 

family,  "  If  it  please  your  highness,  the  book  is  not  on  the  out- 
side so  finished  as  it  is  intended  for  you  ;  but  shall  be,  with  all 
expedition,  done,  and  you  shall  have  it."  "  Well,"  said  the  king, 
"  you  must  content  yourself  for  a  while." 

The  palsgrave,  who  had  left  the  king  discoursing,  had  stepped 
into  the  other  room  by,  and  there  seen  the  poor  alms  widows 
rooms,  which  were  built  for  them.  He  then  comes  to  the  king, 
saying,  "  Sir,  you  shall,  if  you  please  to  go  with  me,  see  another 
good  thing,  that  will  like  you  well."  So  the  king  and  prince 
followed  him,  and  the  duke.  So  being  come  into  the  widows 
rooms,  which  were  handsomely  wainscotted,  and  four  beds  in 
them,  after  the  Dutch  manner  of  their  alms  houses,  all  along  the 
walls ;  the  room  being  rubbed,  and  cleanly  kept,  the  king  looking 
well  about  him,  and  upon  all  things  said,  "  Truly  this  is  worth 
the  sight.  I  did  not  think  to  have  seen  a  thing  in  this  kind, 
that  so  well  pleaseth  me.  God's  blessing  be  upon  the  founders 
of  it !  Time  was,"  speaking  to  the  palsgrave,  "  that  you  would 
have  thought  such  a  lodging  not  amiss."  "  Yea,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  and  happy  I  had  had  it  full  often."  So  some  questions  the 
king  asked  about  the  widows,  &c.  and  going  out  of  the  room 
into  a  long  arbour  in  the  garden,  the  duke  following  him,  he  put 
his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  took  out  of  it  five  pieces  in  gold 
saying  to  the  duke,  "  Let  these  be  given  to  the  poor  widows.  It 
is  all  I  have,  else  they  should  have  more ;"  (these  he  had  won 
the  night  before  of  the  palsgrave  at  cards  at  Huntingdon)  "  and 
will  them  to  pray  for  me." 

While  the  king  was  walking,  and  talking,  and  commending  the 
fine  and  pleasant  situation  of  the  house  upon  a  little  hill,  which 
it  stood  upon,  to  divers  about  him,  saying,  "  Gidding  is  a  happy 
place  in  many  respects  ;  I  am  glad  I  have  seen  it."  The  young 
lords  had  gone  into  the  buttery,  and  there  found  apple-pies  and 
cheese-cakes,  and  came  out  with  pieces  in  their  hands  into  the 
parlour,  to  the  prince,  and  merrily  said,  "  Sir,  will  your  highness 
taste  ;  it  is  a  good  apple-pye  as  ever  we  eat."  The  prince 
laughed  heartily  at  them  :  so  wine  was  brought.  The  king  came 
in,  saying,  "  It  grows  late  :  the  sun  is  going  down :  we  must 
away."  So  their  horses  were  brought  to  the  door.  The  king 
mounting,  those  of  the  family,  men  and  women,  all  kneeled  down, 
and  heartily  prayed  God  to  bless  and  defend  him  from  his  ene- 
mies ;  and  give  him  a  long  and  happy  reign.  He  lifting  up  his 
hand  to  his  hat,  replied,  "  Pray,  pray  for  my  speedy  and  safe 
return  again."  So  the  prince  also  took  horse,  and  away  they  went. 


246  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

And  as  the  king  rode  through  the  grounds,  he  espied  a  hare 
sitting,  and  then  called  to  the  duke  for  his  piece,  which  he  car- 
ried ;  and  as  he  sat  on  horse-back  killed  the  hare ;  but  not  so 
dead,  but  she  ran  a  little  way.  But  the  prince,  seeing  her  rise 
up,  skipped  off  his  horse,  and  ran  after  her  through  two  or  three 
furrows  of  water,  and  caught  her,  and  laughing  shewed  her  to  the 
king.  And  away  they  went :  but  it  was  late  before  they  got  to 
Stamford  that  night. 

I  had  forgot  to  relate,  that  the  king,  a  mile  before  he  came  at 
the  house,  seeing  it  stand  upon  a  hill,  demanded  of  sir  Capel 
Beedells3,  who  then  waited  upon  him,  and  sir  Richard  Stone,  the 
high  sheriff,  whom  he  knighted  the  evening  before,  when  he  came 
into  Huntingdon,  what  house  that  was  that  stood  so  pleasantly. 
They  told  him,  Little  Gidding.  "  Is  that  it  ?  I  must  go  and  visit 
it.  Doth  not  our  way  lie  beneath  it  ?"  They  said,  "  Aye.1' 
Those  of  the  family  of  Little  Gidding,  out  of  their  windows, 
seeing  the  king's  company  afar  off,  coming  that  way,  they  all 
went  down  the  hill,  to  the  end  of  the  lordship,  and  at  the  bridge 
attended  the  king's  coming  that  way,  as  most  desirous  to  see  him 
and  to  kiss  his  hands.  When  the  king  came  near  them,  he  asked 
sir  Capel  who  those  people  were  ?  He  said  the  Ferrars'  and 
Colletts'  family  that  dwelt  at  Gidding.  So  the  king  approaching 
foremost  of  all,  they  went  all  to  meet  him ;  and  kneeling  down 
prayed  God  to  bless  and  preserve  his  majesty,  and  keep  him  safe 
from  all  his  enemies'  malice.  The  king  gave  them  all,  as  they 
passed  by,  his  hand  to  kiss.  The  prince  seeing  that,  came  gal- 
loping up,  and  did  the  like.  Some  of  them  went  to  kiss  the 
palsgrave's  hand,  but  he  refused.  But  turning  to  the  duke,  and 
the  other  young  lords,  he  said,  "  These  ladies  will  not  so  soon  get 
up  the  hill  again.  Come,  let  us  take  them  up  behind  us."  And 
so  he  came  to  persuade  them.  But  they  excused  themselves,  and 
made  haste  up  the  hill.  The  king  rode  on  purpose  a  foot  pace 
up  the  hill,  talking  with  sir  Capel  and  Mr.  Hill,  and  demanding 
many  questions. 

And  this  is  what  then  happened  at  the  presenting  of  this  book, 
which  ever  since  hath  been  preserved  at  Gidding,  and  attends  the 
happy  hour  to  be  delivered  into  the  right  owner's  hand  ;  which 
God  Almighty  grant  in  his  due  time  ! 

Amen,  Amen,  Amen. 

3  Beedclls.']  Sir  Capel  Bedell,  or  Beedells  (of  Hamerton,  in  Huntingdon- 
shire, t\vo  miles  from  Little  Gidding)  was  created  a  baronet  in  1622.  He 
died  8.  p.  in  1663. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  247 

Nicholas  Ferrar,  in  a  paper  found  in  his  study,  thus  writes 
in  it : — 

"  The  king  of  England  (he  would  say)  had  more  several  languages  spoken 
by  the  subjects  of  his  dominions  than  any  king  in  Christendom  :  and  there- 
fore deserved  to  have  a  Bible  of  many  languages,  above  other  princes. 

f '  There  are  twelve  spoken  in  his  dominions. 

"1.  English,  spoken  in  England,  and  a  good  part  of  Scotland:  those,  I 
mean,  that  lie  next  to  England.  It  is  chiefly  compounded  of  the  Saxon, 
French,  and  Latin. 

"  2.  Scottish,  spoken  more  northerly  in  Scotland.  It  retains  more  of  the 
old  Saxon,  and  is  not  mingled  with  so  many  French  words,  as  English  is. 
Bishop  Douglas  translated  Virgil  into  this  dialect. 

"  3.  Welsh,  spoken  in  Wales. 

"  4.  Cornish,  spoken  in  Cornwall.  It  is  a  dialect  of  the  Welsh,  but  very 
various. 

"5.  Irish,  spoken  in  Ireland. 

"6.  Scot- Irish,  a  dialect  of  Irish;  and  is  spoken  in  the  Hebrides,  islands 
lying  on  the  West  of  Scotland. 

"  7.  Hethyan.  Hethy  is  an  island  of  the  Orcades,  in  which  is  spoken  a 
language,  which  is  a  dialect  of  the  Gothish  or  Norwegian. 

"  8.  There  is  in  Pembrokeshire  in  Wales,  a  country  called  Little  Eng- 
land beyond  Wales.  They  use  a  language  compounded  of  the  Dutch  and 
Welsh. 

"  9.  In  the  islands  of  Guernsey  and  Jersey  they  speak  a  corrupt  kind  of 
French,  somewhat  like  the  Walloon,  which  the  Belgee  qui  non  teutonizant 
speak. 

"  10.  In  the  famous  Isle  of  Man  is  spoken  a  language  that  is  compounded 
of  Welsh,  Irish,  Norwegian,  but  most  Irish  words. 

"  This  island  deserves,  and  the  people  of  it,  a  perpetual  memorial,  for 
many  excellent  things  in  it :  which  I  cannot  but  thus  briefly  touch,  in  regard 
that  my  learned  and  pious  uncle  Nicholas  Ferrar,  of  blessed  memory,  who 
had  seen  many  parts  of  the  world,  would  highly  commend  it,  as  a  happy 
place  to  live  in.  For  he  would  say,  it  were  to  be  wished,  and  happy  it  were 
for  England,  that  the  same  manner  for  law  were  here  used,  being  a  speedy 
and  right  way  of  justice,  the  soul  of  a  kingdom,  &c.  That  there  were  no 
beggars  found  in  that  island  :  that  the  inhabitants  were  most  honest  and 
religious,  loving  their  pastors,  to  whom  they  use  much  reverence  and 
respect ;  they  frequenting  duly  divine  service,  without  division  in  the  church 
or  innovation  in  the  commonwealth.  They  detest  the  disorders,  as  well  civil 
as  ecclesiastical,  of  neighbour  nations.  And  the  women  of  this  country,  to 
their  no  small  commendation,  whenever  they  go  out  of  the  doors,  gird  them- 
selves about  with  that  winding-sheet,  that  they  purpose  to  be  buried  in,  to 
shew  themselves  perpetually  mindful  of  their  mortality.  O  rare  example 
to  all! 

"11.  The  languages  spoken  by  the  savages  in  the  Virginian 
plantation.  I  These  in  the 

"12.  That  other  kind  also  spoken  in  New  England  by  C  New  World." 
those  savages."  J 


248  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

Also  there  was  another  paper  that  named  all  the  mother  tongues,  with 
their  daughters,  which  as  yet  I  cannot  find :  but  hope  I  shall ;  and  then 
(will  it  be)  here  underneath  to  be  added.  Sir,  you  know  I  did  once  shew 
it  you  in  his  study,  with  the  other  works  before-mentioned,  and  these  that 
follow. 

8.  EIGHTH  WORK  ;  prepared  but  not  begun.  Materials  only  prepared,  and 
a  model  drawn  of  it. 

Glory  be  to  God  on  High. 

The  New  Testament  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  in  twenty-six 
languages,  with  Arabick,  Syriac,  Greek,  all  interpreted,  word  for  word,  with 
Latin ;  likewise  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  Samaritan,  Arabick,  Syriac  and  Greek,  all 
having  their  several  Latin  translations  lying  opposite  to  them ;  which  six 
languages  are  taken  out  of  that  most  rare  and  accomplished  Bible  of  the 
king  of  France,  lately  come  forth,  and  as  the  French  report,  at  the  expence 
of  very  many  thousand  pounds,  and  great  pains  taken  in  it,  and  no  few  years 
spent  to  finish  it.  All  these  twenty-six  languages  are  so  composed  and 
ordered,  that  at  one  view  they  may  be  seen  and  read,  with  much  ease  and 
pleasure  as  well  as  to  use  and  benefit.  The  several  twenty- six  languages  are 
those  that  follow : 

1.  Hebrew.  14.  English- Saxon. 

2.  Syriack.  15.  German. 

3.  Greek.  16.  Danish. 

4.  Arabick.  17.  Swedish. 

5.  Chaldee.  18.  Low  Dutch. 

6.  Samaritan.  19.  English. 

7.  ^Ethiopian.  20.  Welsh. 

8.  Sclavonian.  21.  Irish. 

9.  Hungarian.  22.  Latin. 

10.  Cantabrian.  23.  Italian. 

11.  Muscovian.  24.  Spanish. 

12.  Polonian.  25.  French. 

13.  Bohemian.  26.  Portugall. 

And  moreover  there  are  twelve  several  English  translations ;  twenty 
various  Latin  translations ;  three  Italian ;  three  Spanish ;  three  French ; 
three  High  Dutch;  and  three  Netherlands.  And  all  these4  also  so  placed, 

4  And  all  these.]  "  But  these  several  translations  are  since  resolved  to  be 
omitted,  and  in  the  place  and  stead  of  them,  some  other  thing  of  more  use 
and  consequence  there  placed,  and  more  suitable  to  this  work." 

"  Since  this  frontispiece  was  contrived,  and  the  model  of  the  work  framed, 
it  is  by  the  advice  and  counsel  of  second  thoughts  (determined)  that  in  the 
place  and  stead  of  the  twelve  several  English  translations,  the  twenty  various, 
&c.  there  shall  be  placed  now  either  a  Concordance  of  the  Four  Evangelists, 
according  to  that  first  pattern  you  have  seen  and  read,  being  the  first  work 
done  at  Gidding,  and  presented  to  the  king,  and  set  forth  with  pictures ;  or 
that  in  that  place  of  the  several  translations,  if  no  Concordance  be  there 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  249 

ordered,  and  contrived  that  the  eye  may  discern  them  at  one  time,  and 
peruse  them  all  with  great  content :  and  for  the  conclusion  of  the  work  there 
is  added  at  the  end  of  the  book,  that  of  doctor  Fulke,  intitled,  "  A  Defence 
of  the  sincere  and  true  translation  of  the  Holy  Scripture  in  the  English 
tongue,  against  the  manifold  cavils,  and  insolent  slanders  of  Gregory  Martin, 
one  of  the  translators  of  the  Rhemish  Bible  :"  and  theirs  and  ours  compared 
together  in  two  several  columns.  And  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  also  annexed  in 
three-score  several  languages.  Laus  Deo. 


Of  this  eighth  piece  the  model  and  form  was  contrived  to  be  as 
you  have  seen  on  the  foregoing  page  in  that  manner.  But  these 
sad  times  coming  on  a-main  gave  an  obstruction  to  the  proceed- 
ings and  attempt,  so  that  it  hath  lain  still  till  this  year  1 65 — . 
And  now  it  hath  so  fallen  out 5  that,  (to  the  honour  of  those 
worthy  learned  men,  that  have  by  their  great  care  and  diligence 
set  it  on  foot,)  the  printing  of  the  Holy  Bible  in  eight  several 
languages  is  designed  here  in  England ;  the  which  work  in  many 
respects  is  like  to  pass  that  Bible  both  of  the  king  of  Spain's, 
and  the  aforenamed  king  of  France's  :  in  which  regard  it  is  now 
thought  fitting  to  defer  this  model,  and  intended  work,  till  that 
our  Bible  be  finished.  And  then  by  the  good  blessing  of  God, 
and  the  help  of  some  of  those  active  hands,  that  are  yet  alive, 
who  were  instruments  of  the  other  many  precedent  works,  as  you 
have  heard,  this  may  in  a  good  hour  be  begun,  and  by  the 
help  of  God  and  good  friends  brought  into  light  and  finished. 
So  contriving  it  by  that  neat  way  of  pasting  upon  mighty  large 
paper,  provided  for  the  same  purpose,  without  which  it  cannot  be 
effected,  that  these  twenty-six  or  twenty-eight  several  languages 
may  be,  upon  the  opening  of  the  book,  all  seen  and  read  with 
much  profitableness  and  no  less  pleasure.  A  book  it  will  be  that 

placed,  then  doctor  Hammond's,  that  learned  man's,  Comments  lately 
printed,  shall  be  placed,  and  brought  into  this  book,  as  a  necessary  and  pro- 
fitable jewel,  to  be  interwoven  into  the  book,  as  the  model  drawn  doth  justly 
declare  to  the  eye.  Glory  be  to  God  on  high  :  Peace  on  earth  :  Good  will 
amongst  men.  Amen."  Marginal  note  in  the  MS. 

6  So  fallen  out  J]  The  printing  of  the  Polyglot,  an  illustrious  monument  of 
zeal  and  learning,  erected  to  the  glory  of  their  country  by  bishop  Walton, 
and  other  episcopal  divines,  in  times  of  great  distress  and  persecution,  began 
in  1653,  and  was  finished  in  1657.  The  first  printed  proposals  respecting  it 
were  issued  in  the  year  1652. 


250  NICHOLAS  FERRAR. 

hath  not  its  parallel  or  match  in  the  whole  world,  and  may  well 
become,  as  many  learned  men  say  that  have  seen  the  model  of  it, 
the  best  library  in  the  Christian  world,  and  a  jewel  not  misbe- 
seeming  the  greatest  potentate's  study.  God  Almighty  give  both 
means  and  heads  and  hands  to  effect  it :  to  whom  must  be  the 
glory,  praise  and  honour !  Amen,  Amen,  Amen c. 

c  Here  end  the  extracts  from  the  Lambeth  MS.  No.  251. 


APPENDIX. 


MR.  JOHN  FERRAR,  author  of  the  old  MS.  frequently  referred 
to,  wrote  to  Ed.  Lenton,  Esq.  of  Notley,  enquiring  whether  a 
letter  from  him  formerly  written  to  Serjt.  Hetley,  was  not  the 
groundwork  of  a  libellous  pamphlet  *,  entitled,  The  Arminian 
Nunnery,  at  Little  Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire.  Mr.  Lenton's 
answer  and  vindication  of  himself,  as  follows,  is  dated  Oct.  27, 
the  year  not  specified,  but  it  was  1642  : 

Sir, 

If  your  messenger  had  staid  but  one  night  longer,  I  would  not 
have  delayed  my  answer  to  your  so  discrete  and  respectful  a 
letter ;  which  makes  me  wish  we  were  better  acquainted,  in 
hopes  to  confirm  your  good  and  charitable  opinion  of  me. 

Sir,  I  confess  I  should  much  degenerate  from  my  birth  (being 
a  gentleman),  my  breeding  (well  known  to  the  world),  and  the 
religion  I  profess ;  if  having,  upon  something  a  bold  visit,  been 
entertained  in  your  family  with  kind  and  civil  respects,  I  should 
requite  it  with  such  scorn  and  calumny  as  this  libellous  pamphlet 
seems  to  insinuate. 

Sir,  my  conceit  of  it  is,  that,  in  this  time  of  too  much  liberty 
(if  not  licentiousness)  of  the  press,  many  ballad-makers  and 
necessitous  persons  (it  may  be,  set  on  work  by  some  printers 
themselves,  to  promote  their  trade)  distil  their  barren  brains  to 
make  provision  for  their  empty  bellies,  by  publishing  such  novel- 
ties and  fictions  as  they  think  will  vent  best ;  and,  when  they  have 
spent  their  own  little  wit,  borrow  of  others  to  eke  it  out ;  and  so, 
enterlacing  some  shreds  of  their  own,  they  patch  up  a  penny 
pamphlet,  to  serve  for  their  morning's  draught. 

Of  this  strain  I  take  this  book  to  be.     The  ground  whereof 

1  Libellous  pamphlet.']  See  the  note  at  p.  208. 


252  APPENDIX : 

(you  doubt,  but  I  doubt  not)  was  the  letter  I  writt  to  Sir  Thomas 
Hettley  (many  years  since)  upon  his  request,  that,  in  my  passage 
from  him  to  my  lord  Montague's,  being  by  your  house,  I  would 
see  and  certify  what  I  could  in  so  short  a  stay,  touching  the 
various  reports  divulged  in  most  places  of  your  religious  rites  and 
ceremonies. 

To  which  my  true  relation  (which  I  am  sorry  and  marvel  how 
it  should  light  in  such  hucksters-hands)  the  pamphleteer,  by  his 
additions  and  subtractions,  interweaving  truth  with  falsehood  to 
purchase  some  credit  to  his  untruths,  hath  drawn  conclusions 
and  accusations  of  Arminianism  and  other  fopperies,  not  once 
mentioned  in  my  letter ;  but,  as  wisely  as  that  atheist,  who, 
to  prove  there  was  no  God,  vouched  one  end  of  a  verse 
where  David  in  his  psalms  saith,  There  is  no  God ;  and  left  out 
the  beginning  of  the  verse,  That  the  fool  hath  said  it  in  his 


By  this  time,  sir,  I  hope  you  see  I  am  so  far  from  being  the 
author,  infuser,  abettor  or  countenancer  of  this  fable,  that,  by  it 
I  take  myself  to  be  as  much  abused,  and  that  there  is  as  much 
aspersion  cast  upon  me  as  upon  your  family,  by  a  sly  and  cun- 
ning intimation  (my  letter  being  his  ground-work)  to  make  me 
thought  (by  such  as  know  me  not  well)  to  be  the  author  and 
divulger  of  his  lies  and  scandals,  which  (by  God^s  mercy)  my  soul 
abhors. 

Had  he  shewed  his  dislike  of  some  of  the  ceremonies,  &c.  (as  I 
myself  did,  by  way  of  argument)  I  should  not  (nor,  I  think,  you) 
so  much  have  kindled  at  it.  But  so  to  add  to,  subtract,  pervert, 
and  falsify  my  letter,  I  think  the  author  (if  haply  he  may  be  found 
out)  deserves  to  be  censured  as  a  counterfeiter  of  false  letters 
and  tokens,  and  as  a  contriver  and  publisher  of  false  news, 
according  to  the  law  of  the  land  and  the  statutes  in  like  case 
provided. 

His  ignorance  (which  yet  excuseth  not  a  toto,  if  a  tanto)  I 
think  will  be  his  best  plea.  For,  it  should  seem,  he  is  no  great 
clerk.  Which  I  observe  even  almost  at  the  beginning  of  his  story, 
\\  h» -re  he  tells  a  tale  as  of  a  third  person,  and  in  the  same  clause, 
within  two  or  three  lines  after,  ineptly  changeth  it  into  the  first 
person;  without  any  apt  transition.  A  solecism  which  a  in<  an 
scholar  would  hardly  have  fallen  into. 

To  have  put  the  true  copy  of  my  letter  in  print,  without  my 
privity,  had  been  a  great  inhumanity.  But,  to  pervert  it  with  so 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  253 

many  falsifications,  and  laying  his  inhumanities  on  me,  I  think, 
none  but  a  licentious  libeller,  or  a  beggarly  ballad-maker,  would 
have  offered. 

I  was  so  conscious  to  myself  of  intending  no  wrong  to  your 
family  in  my  relation,  that  I  thought  to  have  sent  your  brother 
[N.  F .]  a  copy  thereof ;  and  had  done  it,  if  want  of  opportunity 
in  his  lifetime,  and  his  death  afterwards,  had  not  prevented  me. 
And  I  would  now  send  you  a  true  copy  thereof,  if  you  had  not 
wrote  to  me,  that  you  had  it  presently  after  my  writing  it.  And 
sith  I  have  been  at  your  house  long  since  (for  it  is  about  seven 
years  past,  as  I  take  it,  that  I  writ  the  relation)  I  presume  you 
would  have  expostulated  the  matter  with  me,  if  you  had  taken 
any  just  exception  or  distaste  at  it.  But  therein  you  might  well 
perceive,  that  I  endeavoured  not  to  detract  any  thing  from  you, 
or  to  conceal  even  the  civility  or  humility  I  found,  or  what  I  had 
heard  or  believed  of  your  works  of  charity. 

Thus,  sir,  even  the  very  same  day  I  received  your's  (for  there 
needs  no  long  time  to  answer  a  matter  of  fact  with  matter  of 
truth  ;  and  being  full  of  indignation  to  be  thus  traduced,  whereof 
I  longed  instantly  to  discharge  myself)  I  scribled  over  this  candid 
and  ingenuous  answer.  And  I  am  now  troubled  that  you  gave 
me  no  direction  for  the  address  thereof  to  you ;  which,  when  haply 
you  shall  receive,  I  leave  to  your  own  discretion,  to  make  what 
use  thereof  you  please  ;  presuming  that  you  will  therein  have  the 
like  respects  to  me  which  herein  I  have  had  to  you.  So  leaving 
us  to  the  guidance  of  our  good  God,  I  subscribe,  as  you  to  me, 
your  friend  and  servant, 

ED.  LENTON. 

Notley,  near  Thame^  Oct.  27. 

To  the  worshipful  my  worthily  esteemed  friend 
John  Ferrar,  Esq.  at  his  house  in  Little 
Gidding  in  Huntingdonshire. 


The  copy  of  my  letter  to  sir  Thomas  Hetley,  kt.  and  ser- 
jeant  at  law,  upon  his  request  to  certify  as  I  found. 

Good  Mr.  Serjeant5. 

I  can  give  you  but  a  short  account  of  my  not  two  hours  stay 
at  the  reputed  (at  least  reported)  nunnery  at  Gidding  ;  and  yet 


254  APPENDIX  : 

must  leave  out  three  parts  of  our  passages,  as  fitter  for  a  relation 
than  a  letter. 

I  came  thither  after  ten  ;  and  found  a  fair  house,  fairly  seated  ; 
to  which  I  passed  through  a  fine  grove  and  sweet  walks,  letticed 
and  gardened  on  both  sides. 

Their  livelihood  500J.  per  annum,  as  my  lord  Montague  *  told 
me ;  one  of  his  mansion  houses  being  within  two  or  three  miles 
of  them. 

A  man-servant  brought  me  into  a  fair  spacious  parlour. 
Whither,  soon  after,  came  to  me  the  old  gentlewoman"^  second 
son  [Nicholas  Ferrar ;]  a  batchelor,  of  a  plain  presence,  but  of 
able  speech  and  parts.  Who,  after  I  had  (as  well  as  in  such 
case  I  could)  deprecated  any  ill  conceit  of  me,  for  so  unusual 
and  bold  a  visit,  entertained  me  very  civilly  and  with  much 
humility.  Yet  said,  I  was  the  first  who  ever  came  to  them  in 
that  kind ;  though  not  the  first  whom  they  had  heard  of,  who 
determined  to  come.  After  deprecations  and  some  compliments, 
he  said,  I  should  see  his  mother,  if  I  pleased.  I  shewing  my 
desire,  he  went  up  into  a  chamber,  and  presently  returned  with 
these ;  namely,  his  mother,  a  tall,  straight,  clear-complexioned, 
grave  matron,  of  eighty  years  of  age  :  his  elder  brother,  married 
(but  whether  a  widower,  I  asked  not),  a  short,  black- complexioned 
man  :  his  apparel  and  hair  so  fashioned  as  made  him  shew  priest- 
like  :  and  his  sister,  married  to  one  Mr.  Colet :  by  whom  she 
hath  14  or  15  children :  all  which  are  in  the  house  (which  I  saw 
not  yet).  And  of  these,  and  two  or  three  maid-servants,  the 
family  consists. 

I  saluted  the  mother  and  daughter,  not  like  nuns,  but  as  we 
use  to  salute  other  women.  And  (after  we  were  all  seated 
circular- wise,  and  my  deprecations  renewed  to  the  other  three b) 
I  desired  that,  to  their  favour  of  entertaining  me,  they  would  add 
the  giving  of  me  a  free  liberty  to  speak  ingenuously  what  I  con- 
ceived of  any  thing  I  should  see  or  have  heard  of,  without  any 
distaste  to  them. 

\Vhich  being  granted ;  I  first  told  them,  what  I  had  heard  of 
the  nuns  of  Gidding.  Of  two,  watching  and  praying  all  night. 
Of  their  canonical  hours.  Of  their  crosses  on  the  outside  and 
inside  of  their  chapel.  Of  an  altar  there,  richly  docked  with 
plate,  tapestry,  and  tapers.  Of  their  adorations  and  cr« •ninil.-i- 

2  Lord  Montague']  Edward,  first  lord  Montagu  of  Bonghton. 
/      b  Mr.  John  Ferrar,  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  and  Mr.  John  Collet. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  255 

tions  at  their  entering  therein.  Which,  I  objected,  might  savor 
of  superstition  and  popery. 

Here  the  younger  son,  the  mouth  for  them  all,  cut  me  off ; 
and,  to  this  last,  answered  first,  with  a  protestation,  that  he  did 
as  verily  believe  the  pope  to  be  antichrist  as  any  article  of  his 
faith.  Wherewith  I  was  satisfied  and  silenced,  touching  that 
point. 

For  the  nunnery ;  he  said,  That  the  name  of  nuns  was  odious. 
But  the  truth  (from  whence  that  untrue  report  might  arise)  was, 
that  two  of  his  nieces  had  lived,  one,  thirty ;  the  other,  thirty- 
two  years,  virgins  ;  and  so  resolved  to  continue  (as  he  hoped  they 
would)  the  better  to  give  themselves  to  fasting  and  prayer  :  but 
had  made  no  vows 3. 

For  the  canonical  hours,  he  said,  they  usually  prayed  six  times 
a  day.  As  I  remember,  twice  a  day  publicly,  in  the  chapel ;  and 
four  times  more,  privately,  in  the  house.  In  the  chapel,  after 
the  order  of  the  book  of  common-prayer  :  in  their  house,  parti- 
cular prayers  for  a  private  family. 

I  said,  if  they  spent  so  much  time  in  praying,  they  would 
leave  little  for  preaching  or  for  their  weekly  callings.  For  the 
one  I  vouched  the  text,  He  that  turneth  away  his  ear  from 


3  No  vows.~\  "Yet  nothing  is  so  sound,  but  in  time  it  will  run  into  corrup- 
tion. For  I  must  not  hold  it  in,  that  some  persons  in  Little  Gidding  had  run 
into  excess,  and  incurred  offence,  if  the  bishop  had  not  broken  the  snare, 
which  they  were  preparing  for  their  own  feet.  For  after  he  had  spoken  well 
of  the  family  in  the  pulpit,  and  privately  to  divers,  some  of  them  could  not 
see  when  they  were  well,  but  aspired  to  be  transcendants  above  their  measure. 
For  two  daughters  of  the  stock  came  to  the  bishop,  and  offered  themselves 
to  be  veiled  virgins,  to  take  upon  them  the  vow  of  perpetual  chastity,  with 
the  solemnity  of  the  episcopal  blessing,  and  ratification :  whom  he  admo- 
nished very  fatherly,  that  they  knew  not  what  they  went  about :  that  they 
had  no  promise  to  confirm  that  grace  unto  them ;  that  this  readiness,  which 
they  had  in  the  present,  should  be  in  their  will,  without  repentance  to  their 
life's  end.  Let  the  younger  women  marry,  was  the  best  advice,  that  they 
might  not  be  led  into  temptation.  And  that  they  might  not  forget  what  he 
taught  them,  he  drew  up  his  judgment  in  three  sheets  of  paper,  and  sent  it 
to  them  home,  that  they  might  dress  themselves  by  that  glass,  and  learn  not 
to  think  of  human  nature,  above  that  which  it  is,  a  sea  of  flowings  and 
ebbings,  and  of  all  manner  of  inconstancy.  The  direction  of  God  was  in 
this  counsel ;  for  one  of  the  gentlewomen  afterwards  took  a  liking  to  a  good 
husband,  and  was  well  bestowed."  Backet's  Life  of  Archbishop  Williams, 
part  ii.  p.  52. 


256  APPENDIX : 

hearing  the  law,  even  his  prayer  shall  be  abomination c.  For  the 
other,  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour,  &c. 

To  the  one  he  answered,  that  a  neighbour  minister  of  another 
parish  caine  on  Sunday-mornings,  and  preached ;  and  sometimes 
they  went  to  his  parish.  To  the  other,  that  their  calling  was  to 
serve  God ;  which  he  took  to  be  the  best. 

I  replied,  that  for  men  in  health  and  of  active  bodies  and 
parts,  it  were  a  tempting  of  God  to  quit  our  callings,  and  wholly 
to  betake  ourselves  to  fasting,  prayer,  and  a  contemplative  life, 
which  by  some  is  thought  little  better  than  a  serious  kind  of  idle- 
ness :  not  to  term  it  (as  St.  Austin  terms  moral  virtues  without 
Christ)  splendida  peccata. 

He  enjoined,  that  they  had  found  divers  perplexities,  distrac- 
tions, and  almost  utter  ruin,  in  their  callings.  But  (if  others 
knew  what  comfort  and  content  God  ministered  to  them  since 
their  sequestration,  and  with  what  incredible  improvements  of 
their  livelihood)  it  might  encourage  others  to  [take]  the  like 
course. 

I  said  that  such  an  imitation  might  be  of  dangerous  conse- 
quence. And  that  if  any,  in  good  case  before,  should  fall  into 
poverty  [when  entered  into  it,]  few  afterwards  would  follow  the 
example. 

For  their  night-watchings,  and  their  rising  at  four  of  the  clock 
in  the  morning  (which  I  thought  was  [too]  much  for  one  of  four- 
score years,  and  for  children).  To  the  one  he  said,  it  was  not 
[too]  much ;  since  they  always  went  to  bed  at  seven  of  the  clock 
in  the  evening.  For  the  other,  he  confessed,  there  were  every 
night  two  (alternatim)  continued  all  night  in  their  devotions,  who 
went  not  to  bed  until  the  rest  arose. 

For  the  crosses  he  made  the  usual  answer,  that  they  were  not 
ashamed  of  that  badge  of  the  Christian  profession  which  the  first 
propugners  of  the  faith  bare  in  their  banners,  and  which  we,  in 
our  church  discipline,  retain  to  this  day. 

For  their  chapel ;  that  it  was  now  near  chapel  time  (for 
eleven  is  the  hour  in  the  forenoon),  and  that  I  might,  if  I 
pleased,  accompany  them  thither,  and  so  satisfy  myself  best  of 
what  I  had  heard  concerning  that.  Which  afterwards  I  willingly 
entertained. 

c  Prov.  xxviii.  9. 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  257 

In  the  mean  time  I  told  them,  I  perceived  all  was  not  true 
which  I  had  heard  of  the  place.  For  I  could  see  no  such  inscrip  - 
tion  on  the  frontispiece  of  the  house,  containing  a  kind  of  invita- 
tion of  such  as  were  willing  to  learn  of  them,  or  would  teach  them 
better.  Which,  I  said,  was  some  encouragement  for  me  to  come 
(as  one  desirous  to  learn,  not  teach),  and  might  be  some  excuse 
of  my  audacity,  if  they  would  be  pleased  so  to  accept  it.  But  he, 
barring  me  from  farther  compliments,  said,  the  ground  of  that 
report  hung  over  my  head. 

We  sitting  by  the  chimney,  [I  saw]  in  the  chimney  piece  was 
a  manuscript  tableture ;  which,  after  I  had  read,  I  craved  leave 
to  beg  a  copy  of  (so  they  would  not  take  me  for  too  bold  a 
beggar).  He  forthwith  took  it  down,  and  commanded  it  to  be 
presently  transcribed  and  given  to  me.  I  offered  the  writer 
money,  for  his  deserved  pains :  which  was  refused.  And  the 
master  [N.  F.]  conjured  me  not  to  offer  it  a  second  time.  And 
thereupon  [also  he]  made  it  his  [farther]  suit  [to  me],  not  to 
offer  any  thing  to  any  in  that  house,  at  my  parting,  or  otherwise. 
The  words  of  the  protestation  are  as  folio weth  d. 

The  matter  of  this  declaration  being  in  such  general  terms,  I 
said,  I  thought  it  without  exception.  But  I  prayed  leave  to  except 
a  circumstance,  namely,  the  superscription :  it  being  the  proper 
character  of  the  Jesuits  in  every  book  and  exhibit  of  theirs.  He 
said  it  was  that  auspicious  name,  [Jesus]  worthy  to  be  the  alpha 
and  omega  of  all  our  doings ;  and  that  we  are  commanded  to 
write  such  things  on  the  posts  of  our  houses  and  upon  our  gates. 
(Deut.  vi.  9.)  I  told  him,  I  was  far  from  excepting  against  that 
sacred,  saving  name  of  Jesus :  only  I  could  have  wished  it  written 
at  length,  or  any  other  way,  to  have  differenced  it  from  that 
which  the  papists  only  use,  but  no  Protestants.  And,  that  the 
text  he  mentioned,  was  in  the  Old  Testament  (where  there  was 
no  mention  of  Jesus,  but  of  Jehovah)  to  my  remembrance.  But 

We  passed  from  this  towards  the  chapel,  being  about  forty 
paces  from  the  house ;  yet  [were]  staid  a  little  (as  with  a  paren- 
thesis) by  a  glass  of  sack,  a  sugar-cake,  and  a  fine  napkin,  brought 
by  a  mannerly  maid.  Which  refreshed  my  memory  to  tell  them 
what  my  lord  bishop  of  Lincoln  [Williams]  said  of  them.  Wherein 
yet  I  brake  no  laws  of  humanity  or  hospitality  (though  spoken  at 
his  table.)  For  he  said  nothing  but  what  they  wished  and  were 

d  "IHS 

"  He  who  by  reproof,"  &c.  see  p,  206  of  these  Memoirs. 

VOL.   IV.  S 


258  APPENDIX  : 

glad  to  hear ;  [all]  being  but  the  relation  of  the  grave  and  dis- 
creet answers  (as  my  lord  himself  termed  them)  of  the  old  gentle- 
woman to  some  of  his  lordship's  expostulations. 

To  that  part  concerning  the  young  deacon,  whom  his  lordship 
had  heard  of,  to  come  from  Cambridge  to  officiate  in  their  chapel ; 
he  (innuendo  even  the  younger  son,  who  only  was  the  speaker) 
said,  that  himself  was  the  young  deacon  intended.  That  he  is 
two  and  forty  years  old ;  was  fellow  of  an  house  in  Cambridge  ; 
and  hath  taken  the  orders  of  a  deacon. — To  say  nothing  of  his 
having  been  at  Rome  (whereof  I  could  have  excepted  no  more 
against  him  than  he  might  against  me).  For  having  been  so  long 
in  the  labour  of  the  chapel,  it  is  now  high  time  we  were  at  the 
church — 

At  the  entering  thereof  he  made  a  low  obeysance ;  a  few  paces 
farther,  a  lower ;  coming  to  the  half-pace  (which  was  at  the  east 
end,  where  the  tables  stood)  he  bowed  to  the  ground,  if  not  pros- 
trated himself :  then  went  up  into  a  fair,  large  reading  place  (a 
preaching  place  being  of  the  same  proportion,  right  over  against 
it).  The  mother,  with  all  her  train  (which  were  her  daughter 
and  daughter's  daughters)  had  a  fair  island  seat. 

He  placed  me  above,  upon  the  half-pace,  with  two  fair  window- 
cushions  of  green  velvet  before  me.  Over  against  me  was  such 
another  seat,  so  suited ;  but  no  body  to  sit  in  it.  The  daugli 
four  sons  kneeled  all  the  while  on  the  edge  of  the  half-pace  ;  all 
in  black  gowns.  (And  they  went  to  church  in  round  Monmouth 
caps,  as  my  man  said ;  for  I  looked  not  back)  the  rest  all  in 
black,  save  one  of  the  daughter's  daughters,  who  was  in  a  fryer's 
grey  gown. 

We  being  thus  placed,  the  deacon  (for  so  I  must  now  call  him) 
with  a  very  loud  and  distinct  voice,  began  with  the  Litany,  read 
divers  prayers  and  collects  in  the  book  of  Common-prayer,  and 
Athanasius  his  creed,  and  concluded  with  The  Peace  of  God. 

All  ended,  the  mother,  with  all  her  company,  attended  my 
coming  down.  But  her  son  (the  deacon)  told  her,  I  would  stay 
awhile  to  view  the  chapel.  So  with  all  their  civil  salutation 
wards  me  (which  I  returned  them  afar  off;  for  I  durst  not  come 
nearer,  lest  I  should  have  light  upon  one  of  the  virgins ;  not 
knowing  whether  they  would  have  taken  a  kiss 4  in  good  part  or 
no)  they  departed  home. 

4  A  K«.]  Then,  and  long  afterwards,  a  common  salutation.     On  its  use 
at  an  earlier  time,  see  vol.  i.  p.  533. 


NICHOLAS   FERRAR.  259 

Now  (none  but  the  deacon  and  I  left)  I  observed  the  chapel,  in 
general,  to  be  fairly  and  sweetly  adorned  with  herbs  and  flowers, 
natural  in  some  places,  and  artificial  upon  every  pillar  along  both 
sides  the  chapel  (such  as  are  in  cathedral  churches)  with  tapers 
(I  mean  great  virgin- wax-candles)  on  every  pillar. 

The  half-pace  at  the  upper  end  (for  there  was  no  other  division 
betwixt  the  body  of  the  chapel  and  the  east  part)  was  all  covered 
with  tapestry.  And,  upon  that  half-pace,  stood  the  communion- 
table (not  altar- wise,  as  reported6)  with  a  rich  carpet  hanging 
very  large  upon  the  half-pace ;  and  some  plate,  as  a  chalice,  and 
candlesticks,  with  wax  candles. 

By  the  preaching  place  stood  the  font;  the  leg,  laver,  and 
cover,  all  of  brass,  cut  and  carved.  The  cover  had  a  cross  erected. 
The  laver  was  of  the  bigness  of  a  barber's  bason. 

And  this  is  all  which  I  had  leisure  to  observe  in  the  chapel ; 
save  that  I  asked  for  the  organs?  And  he  told  me,  they  were 
not  there ;  but  that  they  had  a  pair  in  their  house. 

I  asked  also,  what  use  they  made  of  so  many  tapers  ?  He  said, 
to  give  them  light,  when  they  could  not  see  without  them. 

Then  (having,  as  I  told  you  before,  obtained  leave  to  say  what 
I  listed)  I  asked  him,  to  whom  he  made  all  those  courtesies  ?  He 
said,  to  God.  I  asked  if  the  papists  made  any  other  answer  for 
their  bowing  to  images  and  crucifixes?  yet  we  account  them 
idolaters  for  so  doing.  He  said,  we  have  no  such  warrant  for  the 
one.  But  for  the  other  we  have  a  precept,  to  do  all  things  with 
decency  and  order ;  as  he  took  this  to  be. 

I  demanded,  then,  why  he  used  not  the  same  solemnity  in  his 
service  at  his  house  ?  And,  whether  he  thought  the  chapel  more 
holy  than  his  house?  He  said,  No.  But  that  God  was  more 

e  [Formerly  the  church  puritans  generally  set  the  communion  table  either 
in  the  body  of  the  church,  or  (if  in  the  chancel,  yet)  with  the  two  ends  point- 
ing east  and  west  (not  north  and  south).  And  Williams,  now  bishop  of  Lin- 
coln (in  opposition  to  archbishop  Laud  and  others,  who  set  it  altar-wise) 
insisted  much  upon  their  standing  so.  And,  in  obedience  to  bishop  Williams 
(who  was  his  diocesan)  no  doubt  it  was,  that  Mr.  Ferrar  set  his  communion 
table,  after  the  puritan  manner,  with  the  two  ends  pointing  east  and  west. 
Though,  I  guess,  it  stood  otherwise  'till  this  year  1635.  Be  that  as  it  will, 
this  passage  may  serve  to  shew,  that  bishop  Williams  was,  even  then,  hatching 
his  "  Holy  Table,  Name,  and  Thing"  (printed  [anonymously']  in  1637)  and 
setting  others  to  oppose  the  archbishop's  usage. — Though  the  bishop's  own 
practice,  in  his  own  chapel  at  Buckden,  both  before  and  after,  was  other- 
wise. F.  P.] 

s  2 


260  APPENDIX  : 

immediately  present,  while  we  were  worshipping  him  in  the 
temple. 

I  replied,  that  I  thought  God  was  as  present  at  Paul's  cross  as 
at  Paul's  church ;  and  at  the  preaching-place  at  Whitehall,  and 
'spital  sermons,  as  elsewhere.  For  where  two  or  three  are 
gathered  together  in  his  name,  God  is  in  the  midst  of  them.  And 
yet  in  those  places  (no  not  in  the  body  of  the  church,  though 
there  be  a  sermon  and  prayers  there)  we  do  not  use  this  threefold 
reverence,  nor  any  low  bowing,  unless  in  the  chancel  towards  the 
east,  where  an  altar,  or  some  crucifix,  is? — He  answered  me 
something  of  the  trinary  number,  which  I  did  not  understand, 
nor  well  hear. 

This,  as  all  other  our  discourse,  being  ended  with  mildness  and 
moderation  (on  his  part  at  least)  I  said  farther,  since  their  devo- 
tions (from  which  they  would  be  loth  to  be  diverted  or  inter- 
rupted, as  in  the  said  protestation  appears)  are  more  strict  and 
regular  than  usual,  if  in  their  consciences  they  were  persuaded 
that  all  their  formalities  and  ceremonies  were  but  adiaphora 
(things  indifferent)  I  then  thought  they  were  as  wise  as  serpents 
(in  the  Scripture  sense)  in  complying  so  with  the  church  ceremo- 
nies, .that  they  might  the  safelier  hold  on  their  course  without 
exception.  For  in  this  comportment,  I  thought,  authority  would 
not  except  against  them,  unless  for  exceeding  the  cathedrals; 
who  make  but  one  reverence,  whereas  they  make  three.  He 
said,  I  spake  like  one  who  seemed  to  have  had  experience  in  the 
world. 

It  being  now  near  twelve  o'clock,  we  ended  our  discourse,  and 
I  called  for  my  horses;  hoping  that  thereupon  he  would  have 
invited  me  to  stay  dinner :  not  that  I  care  for  his  or  any  man's 
meat  (for  you  had  given  me  a  dinner  in  too  good  a  breakfast)  but 
that  I  might  have  gained  more  time  to  have  seen  and  observed 
more  of  their  fashions ;  and  whether  the  virgins  and  younger  sort 
would  have  mingled  with  us?  with  divers  other  things,  which 
such  a  dinner-time  would  have  best  have  ministered  matter  for. 
But,  instead  of  making  me  stay,  he  helped  me  in  calling  for  my 
horses ;  accompanying  me  even  to  my  stirrup.  And  so,  I  not 
returning  into  the  house,  as  we  friendly  met,  we  friendly  part*  <1. 

Many  more  questions  I  thought  on,  wlu-n  it  was  too  late ;  and 
yet  you  see  I  was  not  idle  for  the  short  time  I  stayed.  I  asked 
him,  of  their  monthly  receiving  the  sacrament?  And,  whether 
their  servants  (when  they  received)  were  attended  by  their  mas- 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  261 

ters  and  mistresses,  and  suffered  not  so  much  as  to  lay  and  take 
away  their  own  trenchers,  as  I  had  heard  ?  whereat  he  smiled,  as 
at  a  frivolous  fable,  and  said,  the  only  difference  [then]  from  other 
clays  was,  that  the  servants  (the  day  they  received)  sat  at  the 
same  table  with  them. 

I  heard  also  that  they  never  roast  any  meat ;  only  boil  and 
bake  (but  not  in  paste),  that  their  servants  may  not  be  much 
hindered  from  their  devotions.  And  that  they  have  but  one 
horse  amongst  them  all.  But  of  these  I  made  no  mention. 

They  are  extraordinary  well  reported  of  by  their  neighbours, 
viz.  that  they  are  very  liberal  to  the  poor ;  at  great  cost  in  pre- 
paring physic  and  surgery,  for  the  sick  and  sore  (whom  they  visit 
often),  and  that  some  sixty  or  eighty  poor  people  they  task  with 
catechetical  questions :  which  when  they  come  and  make  answer 
to,  they  are  rewarded  with  money  and  their  dinner.  By  means 
of  which  reward  of  meat  and  money,  the  poor  catechumens  learn 
their  lessons  well ;  and  so  their  bodies  and  souls  too  are  well 
fed. 

I  find  them  full  of  humanity  and  humility.  And  others  speak 
as  much  of  their  charity :  which  I  also  verily  believe.  And 
therefore  am  far  from  censuring  them :  of  whom  I  think  much 
better  than  of  myself.  My  opposing  of  sonie  of  their  opinions 
and  practices  as  you  see  in  this  my  relation  (wherein  T  may  have 
varied  in  some  circumstances,  but  nothing  from  the  substance) 
was  only  by  way  of  argument,  and  for  my  own  better  information, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  observe  how  wiser  men  will  judge  of  them,  or 
imitate  their  course  of  life. 

I  intended  not  a  third  part  of  this  when  I  began,  as  you  may 
see  by  my  first  lines.  But  one  thing  drawing  on  another,  I  have 
now  left  out  little  or  nothing  to  my  remembrance ;  saving  what  I 
thought  fitting  in  good  manners,  upon  my  first  affront,  to  make 
way  for  my  welcome,  and  ad  captandam  benevolentiam ;  which  is 
not  worth  the  repeating,  if  I  could  ;  and  I  am  something  better 
at  acting  such  a  part,  than  at  relating  it :  though  good  at  neither. 

After  this  long  and  tedious  relation,  J  must  now  make  but 
short  thanks  to  yourself  and  my  lady  for  my  long  and  kind  wel- 
come ;  wherein  my  wife  joins  with  me ;  praying  your  remembering 
our  loving  respects  to  our  kind  nieces  (hoping  the  good  scholars 
at  Westminster  are  well).  And  so  I  leave  you  to  the  grace  of 
God ;  and  am  the  same,  your  loving  friend, 

EDWARD  LENTON. 


262  APPENDIX  : 

HAVING  been  desired  by  a  very  worthy  and  judicious  friend  to 
give  a  specimen  of  Mr.  Ferraris  devotional  compositions,  I  here 
add  one  prayer,  which  was  used  regularly  the  first  Sunday  in 
every  month,  and  one  which  was  drawn  up  on  the  particular  occa- 
sion of  the  dangerous  illness  of  his  dear  friend  Mr.  Geo.  Herbert. 

The  established  rule  of  the  family  was  to  receive  the  sacra- 
ment the  first  Sunday  of  every  month  in  the  parish  church,  and 
on  those  days  in  their  devotions  at  home  to  add  a  general  form  of 
thanksgiving  for  dangers  escaped,  and  mercies  received ;  of  which 
the  following  is  a  copy  something  shortened. 

"  We  come,  0  Lord,  most  mighty  God,  and  merciful  Father, 
to  offer  unto  thy  .Divine  Majesty,  the  monthly  tribute  of  that 
duty,  which  indeed  we  are  continually  bound  to  perform,  the  ten- 
der of  our  most  humble  and  hearty  thanks  for  those  inestimable 
benefits  which  we,  unworthy  sinners,  have  from  time  to  time  in 
abundant  manner  received  of  thy  goodness,  and  do  even  unto  this 
hour  enjoy.  Yet  by  our  ingratitude  and  abuse  of  them,  we  have 
deserved  not  only  the  deprivation  of  these  good  things,  but  that 
by  a  rigorous  chastisement  thou  shouldest  make  us  an  example  of 
thine  impartial  justice.  For  there  is  none,  O  Lord,  to  whom 
thou  hast  given  more  abundance  or  greater  variety  of  the  com- 
forts of  this  life.  If  we  should  go  about  to  tell  them,  they  are 
more  in  number  than  the  sand  ;  there  are  none  upon  whom  thou 
hast  more  freely  conferred  them :  yet  ought  we  to  confess  that 
we  are  not  worthy  of  the  least  of  thy  favours.  And  as  in  regard 
of  our  unworthiness,  so  likewise  in  respect  of  the  lowliness  of  our 
condition  whence  thou  hast  raised  us,  of  the  dangers  wherewith 
we  have  been  environed,  of  the  difficulties  wherewith  we  have 
been  enthralled,  we  must  needs  cry  out,  Great  are  the  wondrous 
works  which  thou  hast  done  :  for  on  every  side  we  hear  the  voice 
of  the  beholders,  Blessed  are  the  people  who  are  in  such  a  case. 
Wonderful  indeed  hath  been  thy  goodness  towards  us :  while  the 
wise  have  been  disappointed  in  their  counsels,  while  the  full  of 
friends  have  been  left  desolate,  while  the  men  whose  hands  \ 
mighty  have  found  nothing,  while  the  strong  on  every  side  have 
fallen,  we,  O  Lord,  have  been  by  thy  power  raised  up,  by  thine 
arm  have  we  been  strengthened,  guided  by  thy  counsels,  and 
relieved  by  the  favour  of  thy  mercies.  And  that  we  might  know 
that  it  was  thy  doing,  by  those  ways  and  means  which  we  thought 
not  of,  thou  hast  brought  us  into  a  wealthy  place,  and  to  ti 
many  comforts  which  we  now  enjoy.  And  although  we  have 


NICHOLAS  FERRAR.  263 

not  any  way  deserved  thy  favours,  yet  is  thy  patience  extended 
towards  us.  We  must  needs  acknowledge,  0  Lord,  that  the 
liberality  of  thy  hand  is  extended  even  beyond  the  largeness  of 
our  own  hearts.  And  yet,  O  Lord,  all  this  is  nothing  in  compa- 
rison of  that  which  we  may  farther  enjoy.  By  how  much  the 
things  of  heaven  do  surpass  those  of  the  earth,  by  how  much 
everlasting  happiness  is  more  worth  than  the  transitory  and  feeble 
pleasures  of  this  life,  by  so  much  more  surpassing  are  those 
graces  and  favours  with  which  thou  hast  furnished  us  for  the 
knowledge  of  thy  heavenly  will,  and  for  the  practices  of  those 
duties,  of  which  our  conversation  in  this  world,  is  capable. 

u  Thou  hast  given  to  us  a  freedom  from  all  other  affairs,  that 
we  may  without  distraction  attend  thy  service.  That  holy  gospel 
which  came  down  from  heaven,  which  things  the  angels  desire  to 
look  into,  is  by  thy  goodness,  continually  open  to  our  view :  the 
sweet  music  thereof  is  continually  sounding  in  our  ears :  hea- 
venly songs  are  by  thy  mercy  put  into  our  mouths,  and  our 
tongues  and  lips  made  daily  instruments  of  pouring  forth  thy 
praise.  This,  Lord,  is  the  work,  and  this  the  pleasure  of  the 
angels  in  heaven  :  and  dost  thou  vouchsafe  to  make  us  partakers 
of  so  high  an  happiness  ?  The  knowledge  of  thee,  and  of  thy 
Son  is  everlasting  life.  Thy  service  is  perfect  freedom :  how 
happy  then  are  we,  that  thou  dost  constantly  retain  us  in  the 
daily  exercise  thereof! 

"  With  these  favours,  and  mercies,  0  Lord,  we  ought  to  ac- 
knowledge ourselves  most  happy  :  we  ought  to  be  joyful  in  the 
midst  of  adversities,  in  the  depth  of  affliction,  and  in  the  height 
of  distress.  How  much  more  then  are  we  bound  to  thee  for  thy 
merciful  continuance  of  those  blessings  which  we  enjoy  !  we  are 
bound,  0  Lord,  but  unable  to  perform  this  duty  as  we  ought ; 
yet  since  thou  hast  invited  us,  we  now  come  to  the  performance 
thereof ;  to  render  to  thy  divine  majesty  the  most  humble  and 
hearty  acknowledgment  of  our  own  demerits,  and  thy  infinite 
goodness.  We  beseech  thee  that  thou  wilt  enlarge  our  hearts, 
and  open  our  mouths,  that  our  prayers  may  be  set  forth  in  thy 
sight  as  incense,  and  the  lifting  up  of  our  hands  as  a  sacrifice 
unto  thee,  for  the  only  merits  of  thy  dear  Son,  in  whose  name 
and  mediation  we  offer  up  both  our  prayers  and  praises,  and 
together  with  them  ourselves,  beseeching  thee  that  they  being 
sanctified  by  thy  grace,  may  be  every  way  made  acceptable  to 
thee.  Amen." 


264  APPENDIX. 

On  particular  occurrences,  Mr.  Ferrar  composed  more  parti- 
cular forms,  to  be  used  occasionally,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
example. 

"On  Friday "  (date  not  mentioned)  "  Mr.  Mapletoft  brought 
us  word  that  Mr.  Herbert  was  said  to  be  past  hope  of  recovery, 
which  was  very  grievous  news  to  us,  and  so  much  the  more  so, 
being  altogether  unexpected.  We  presently  therefore  made 
our  public  supplication  for  his  health  in  the  words,  and  manner 
following : 

"  O  most  mighty  God,  and  merciful  Father,  we  most  humbly 
beseech  thee,  if  it  be  thy  good  pleasure,  to  continue  to  us  that 
singular  benefit  which  thou  hast  given  us  in  the  friendship  of  thy 
servant,  our  dear  brother,  who  now  lieth  on  the  bed  of  sickness. 
Let  him  abide  with  us  yet  awhile,  for  the  furtherance  of  our 
faith.  We  have  indeed  deserved  by  our  ingratitude,  not  only  the 
loss  of  him,  but  whatever  other  opportunities  thou  hast  given  us 
for  the  attainment  of  our  salvation.  We  do  not  deserve  to  be  heard 
in  our  supplications ;  but  thy  mercies  are  above  all  thy  works. 
In  consideration  whereof  we  prostrate  ourselves  in  all  humble 
earnestness,  beseeching  thee,  if  so  it  may  seem  good  to  thy 
Divine  Majesty,  that  thou  wilt  hear  us  in  this,  who  hast  heard  us 
in  all  the  rest,  and  that  thou  wilt  bring  him  back  again  from  the 
gates  of  death  :  that  thou  wilt  yet  a  while  spare  him,  that  he 
may  h've  to  thy  honour  and  our  comfort.  Lord,  thou  hast  willed 
that  our  delights  should  be  in  the  saints  on  earth,  and  in  such  as 
excel  in  virtue  :  how  then  should  we  not  be  afflicted,  and  mourn 
when  thou  takest  them  away  from  us  !  Thou  hast  made  him  a 
great  help,  and  furtherance  of  the  best  things  amongst  us,  how 
then  can  we  but  esteem  the  loss  of  him,  a  chastisement  from  thy 
displeasure  !  O  Lord,  we  beseech  thee  that  it  may  not  be  so  :  we 
beseech  thee,  if  it  be  thy  good  pleasure,  restore  unto  us  our  dear 
brother,  by  restoring  to  him  his  health :  so  will  we  praise  and 
magnify  thy  name,  and  mercy,  with  a  song  of  tlianksgiving. 
Hear  us,  O  Lord,  for  thy  dear  Son's  sake,  Jesus  Christ  our 
Saviour.  Amen." 

Thus  have  I  complied  with  the  desire  of  a  worthy  friend  ;  ami 
in  so  doing  have,  I  think,  given  to  the  public,  in  these  examples, 
not  only  a  proof  of  the  piety  of  Mr.  Ferrar,  but  also  of  his  excel- 
lence in  devotional  composition. 


BISHOP    HALL. 


Let  us  all  adore  and  bless  God's  wisest  choices,  and  set  vigorously  to  the 
task  that  lies  before  us ;  improving  the  present  advantages,  and  supplying  in 
the  abundance  of  the  inward  beauty  what  is  wanting  to  the  outward  lustre  of 
a  Church ;  and  we  shall  not  fail  to  find  that  the  grots  and  caves  lie  as  open 
to  the  celestial  influences  as  the  fairest  and  most  beautified  temples. — And  it 
must  be  our  greatest  blame  and  wretchedness,  if  what  hath  now  befallen  us 
be  not  effectually  better  for  us,  than  whatever  else  even  piety  could  have  sug- 
gested to  us  to  wish  or  pray  for. 

DOCTOK  HENRY  HAMMOND. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


IN  the  year  1660  was  published  in  4to,  a  volume  intitled,  The 
Shaking  of  the  Olive  Tree :  the  remaining  Works  of  that  incom- 
parable prelate  Joseph  Hall,  D.D.  late  lord  Ushop  of  Norwich.  It 
contained  among  other  things,  Observations  of  some  specialities  of 
Divine  Providence  in  the  Life  of  Joseph  Hall,  Ushop  of  Norwich ; 
and  his  Hard  Measure ;  both  written  with  his  own  hand.  The 
Following  Life  is  composed  principally  of  a  republication  of  those 
two  tracts.  They  are  printed  from  the  above-mentioned  edition 
of  the  year  1660. 


BISHOP  HALL. 


NOT  out  of  a  vain  affectation  of  my  own  glory,  which  I  know 
how  little  it  can  avail  me,  when  I  am  gone  hence ;  but  out  of 
a  sincere  desire  to  give  glory  to  my  God,  (whose  wonderful 
providence  I  have  noted  in  all  my  ways)  have  I  recorded  some 
remarkable  passages  of  my  fore- past  life.  What  I  have  done 
is  worthy  of  nothing,  but  silence  and  forgetfulness :  but  what 
God  hath  done  for  me,  is  worthy  of  everlasting  and  thankful 
memory. 

I  was  born  July  1,  1574,  at  five  of  the  clock  in  the  morning, 
in  Bristow-Park,  within  the  parish  of  Ashby  de  la  Zouch,  a  town 
in  Leicestershire,  of  honest  and  well  allowed  patronage.  My 
father  was  an  officer  under  that  truly  honourable  and  religious 
Henry,  earl  of  Huntingdon,  president  of  the  north,  and  under  him 
had  the  government  of  that  market-town,  wherein  the  chief  seat 
of  that  earldom  is  placed.  My  mother  Winifride,  of  the  house  of 
the  Bambridges  *,  was  a  woman  of  that  rare  sanctity,  that  (were  it 
not  for  my  interest  in  nature,)  I  durst  say,  that  neither  Aleth, 
the  mother  of  that  just  honour  of  Clareval 2 ;  nor  Monica,  nor  any 
other  of  those  pious  matrons,  antiently  famous  for  devotion,  need 
to  disdain  her  admittance  to  comparison.  She  was  continually 
exercised  with  the  affliction  of  a  weak  body,  and  oft  of  a  wounded 
spirit,  the  agonies  whereof,  as  she  would  oft  recount  with  much 
passion,  professing  that  the  greatest  bodily  sicknesses  were  but 
flea-bites  to  those  scorpions,  so  from  them  all  at  last  she  found 
an  happy  and  comfortable  deliverance,  and  that  not  without  a 

1  Bambridges]  Or  rather  Bainbridge,  or  Bainbrigge,  of  Ashby  and  Lock- 
in  gton. 

2  Just  honour  of  Clareval.']  St.  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  whose  mother  was 
Alethea,  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Montbar. 


270  BISHOP  HALL. 

more  than  ordinary  hand  of  God.  For  on  a  time  being  in  great 
distress  of  conscience,  she  thought  in  her  dream,  there  stood  by 
her  a  grave  personage,  in  the  gown,  and  other  habits  of  a  physi- 
cian, who  enquiring  of  her  estate,  and  receiving  a  sad  and  queru- 
lous answer  from  her,  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  bade  her  be  of 
good  comfort,  for  this  should  be  the  last  fit  that  ever  she  should 
feel  of  this  kind ;  whereto  she  seemed  to  answer,  that  upon  that 
condition,  she  could  well  be  content  for  the  time,  with  that,  or 
any  other  torment.  Reply  was  made  to  her,  as  she  thought,  with 
a  redoubled  assurance  of  that  happy  issue  of  this  her  last  trial ; 
whereat  she  began  to  conceive  an  unspeakable  joy ;  which  yet 
upon  her  awaking  left  her  more  disconsolate,  as  then  conceiting 
her  happiness  imaginary,  her  misery  real ;  when  the  very  same 
day,  she  was  visited  by  the  reverend,  and  (in  his  time)  famous 
divine,  Mr.  Anthony  Gilby  s,  under  whose  ministry  she  lived ;  who, 
upon  the  relation  of  this  her  pleasing  vision,  and  the  contrary 
effects  it  had  in  her,  began  to  persuade  her,  that  dream  was  no 
other  than  divine,  and  that  she  had  good  reason  to  think  that 
gracious  premonition  was  sent  her  from  God  himself,  who,  though 
ordinarily  he  keeps  the  common  road  of  his  proceedings,  yet 
sometimes  in  the  distresses  of  his  servants,  he  goes  unusual  ways  to 
their  relief.  Hereupon  she  began  to  take  heart,  and  by  good  coun- 
sel and  her  fervent  prayers,  found  that  happy  prediction  verified 
to  her ;  and  upon  all  occasions  in  the  remainder  of  her  life,  was 
ready  to  magnify  the  mercy  of  her  God  in  so  sensible  a  deliver- 
ance. What  with  the  trial  of  both  these  hands  of  God,  so  had 
she  profited  in  the  school  of  Christ,  that  it  was  hard  for  any  friend 
to  come  from  her  discourse  no  whit  holier.  How  often  have  I 
blessed  the  memory  of  those  divine  passages  of  experimental  divi- 
nity, which  I  have  heard  from  her  mouth  !  What  day  did  she 
pass  without  a  large  task  of  private  devotion,  whence  she  would 
still  come  forth  with  a  countenance  of  undissembled  mortification  ! 
Never  any  lips  have  read  to  me  such  feeling  lectures  of  piety ; 
neither  have  I  known  any  soul,  that  more  accurately  prac •; 
them,  than  her  own.  Temptations,  desertions,  and  spiritual 
comforts  were  her  usual  theme ;  shortly,  for  I  can  hardly  take 


*  Anthony  Gilby.']  A  native  of  Lincolnshire,  vicar  of  Ashby.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  eminent  of  the  early  puritans.  Peck  says  that  lie  lived  at  Ashby 
"  as  great  as  a  1  SM  Tenner's  UHiliotheca,  p.  318.  Hcylin's  Presby- 

terians, p.  2f)O.      Fuller's  Church  ///.s/o?-//.  ix.  TC. 


BISHOP  HALL.  271 

off  my  pen  from  so  exemplary  a  subject,  her  life  and  death  were 
saint-like. 

My  parents  had  from  mine  infancy  devoted  me  to  this  sacred 
calling,  whereto,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  I  have  seasonably 
attained.  For  this  cause  I  was  trained  up  in  the  public  school 
of  the  place.  After  I  had  spent  some  years  (not  altogether  indi- 
ligently)  under  the  ferule  of  such  masters  as  the  place  afforded, 
and  had  near  attained  to  some  competent  ripeness  for  the  univer- 
sity ;  my  school-master,  being  a  great  admirer  of  one  Mr.  Pelset4, 
who  was  then  lately  come  from  Cambridge,  to  be  the  public 
preacher  of  Leicester,  (a  man  very  eminent  in  those  times,  for 
the  fame  of  his  learning,  but  especially  for  his  sacred  oratory) 
persuaded  my  father,  that  if  I  might  have  my  education  under  so 
excellent  and  complete  a  divine,  it  might  be  both  a  nearer,  and 
easier  way  to  his  purposed  end,  than  by  an  academical  institution. 
The  motion  sounded  well  in  my  father's  ears,  and  carried  fair 
probabilities  ;  neither  was  it  other  than  fore-compacted  betwixt 
my  school-master  and  Mr.  Pelset ;  so  as  on  both  sides  it  was 
entertained  with  great  forwardness. 

The  gentleman,  upon  essay  taken  of  my  fitness  for  the  use  of 
his  studies,  undertakes  within  one  seven  years,  to  send  me  forth, 
no  less  furnished  with  arts,  languages  and  grounds  of  theorical 
divinity,  than  the  carefullest  tutor  in  the  strictest  college  of  either 
university.  Which  that  he  might  assuredly  perform,  to  prevent 
the  danger  of  any  mutable  thoughts  in  my  parents,  or  myself,  he 
desired  mutual  bonds  to  be  drawn  betwixt  us.  The  great  charge 
of  my  father,  (whom  it  pleased  God  to  bless  with  twelve  children) 
made  him  the  more  apt  to  yield  to  so  likely  a  project  for  a  younger 
son.  There,  and  now  were  all  the  hopes  of  my  future  life  upon 
blasting.  The  indentures  were  preparing,  the  time  was  set,  my 
suits  were  addressed  for  the  journey.  What  was  the  issue  I  O 
God,  thy  providence  made  and  found  it.  Thou  knowest  how  sin- 
cerely and  heartily,  in  those  my  young  years  a,  I  did  cast  myself 
upon  thy  hands ;  with  what  faithful  resolution,  I  did  in  this  par- 
ticular occasion  resign  myself  over  to  thy  disposition,  earnestly 
begging  of  thee  in  my  fervent  prayers,  to  order  all  things  to  the 
best ;  and  confidently  waiting  upon  thy  will  for  the  event.  Cer- 


4  Mr.  Pelset.]  More  probably  Pelsant,  of  the  Leicestershire  family  of  that 
name  ;  several  members  of  it  held  preferments  in  the  county. 
a  Anno  yEtatis  15°. 


272  BISHOP  HALL. 

tainly,  never  did  I  in  all  my  life  more  clearly  roll  myself  upon  the 
Divine  Providence,  than  I  did  in  this  business ;  and  it  succeeded 
accordingly. 

It  fell  out  at  this  time,  that  my  elder  brother  having  some 
occasions  to  journey  unto  Cambridge,  was  kindly  entertained 
there,  by  Mr.  Nathaniel  Gilby 8,  fellow  of  Emanuel  college,  who, 
for  that  he  was  born  in  the  same  town  with  me,  and  had  con- 
ceived some  good  opinion  of  my  aptness  to  learning,  inquired  dili- 
gently concerning  me ;  and  hearing  of  the  diversion  of  my  father's 
purposes  from  the  university,  importunately  dissuaded  from  that 
new  course,  professing  to  pity  the  loss  of  so  good  hopes.  My 
brother,  partly  moved  with  his  words,  and  partly  won  by  his  own 
eyes,  to  a  great  love,  and  reverence  of  an  academical  life,  return- 
ing home,  fell  upon  his  knees  to  my  father,  and  after  the  report 
of  Mr.  Gilby's  words,  and  his  own  admiration  of  the  place,  earn- 
estly besought  him,  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  alter  that  so  pre- 
judicial a  resolution,  that  he  would  not  suffer  my  hopes  to  be 
drowned  in  a  shallow  country-channel ;  but  that  he  would  revive 
his  first  purposes  for  Cambridge ;  adding  in  the  zeal  of  his  love, 
that  if  the  chargeableness  of  that  course  were  the  hinderance,  he 
did  there  humbly  beseech  him,  rather  to  sell  some  part  of  that 
land,  which  himself  should  in  course  of  nature  inherit,  than  to 
abridge  me  of  that  happy  means  to  perfect  my  education. 

No  sooner  had  he  spoken  these  words  than  my  father  no  less 
passionately  condescended ;  not  without  a  vehement  protestation, 
that  whatsoever  it  might  cost  him,  I  should  (God  willing)  be  sent 
to  the  university.  Neither  were  those  words  sooner  out  of  his 
lips,  than  there  was  a  messenger  from  Mr.  Pelset  knocking  at 
the  door,  to  call  me  to  that  fairer  bondage,  signifying,  that  the 
next  day  he  expected  me,  with  a  full  dispatch  of  all  that  business. 
To  whom  my  father  replied,  that  he  came  some  minutes  too  late ; 
that  he  had  now  otherwise  determined  of  me ;  and  with  a  re- 
spective message  of  thanks  to  the  master,  sent  the  man  home 
empty,  leaving  me  full  of  the  tears  of  joy  for  so  happy  a  chnn^v. 
Indeed  I  had  been  but  lost,  if  that  project  had  succeeded ;  as  it 
well  appeared  in  the  experience  of  him  who  succeeded  in  that 
room,  which  was  by  me  thus  unexpectedly  forsaken. — O  (;<•<!.  h<>\\ 
\\.is  I  then  taken  up  with  a  thankful  acknowledgment,  and  joyful 
admiration  of  thy  gracious  providence  over  me  ! 

*  Nathaniel   Gilby.']     Son  of  the  preceding  Anthony   Gilby,   whom   he 
succeeded  as  vicar  of  Ashby. 


BISHOP  HALL.  273 

And  now  I  lived  in  the  expectation  of  Cambridge  ;  whither  ere 
long  I  happily  came,  under  Mr.  Gilby's  tuition,  together  with  my 
worthy  friend  Mr.  Hugh  Cholmley  6,  who,  as  we  had  been  partners 
of  one  lesson  from  our  cradles,  so  were  we  now  for  many  years 
partners  of  one  bed.  My  two  first  years  were  necessarily  charge- 
able, above  the  proportion  of  my  father's  power,  whose  not  very 
large  cistern,  was  to  feed  many  pipes  besides  mine.  His  weari- 
ness of  expense  was  wrought  upon  by  the  counsel  of  some  unwise 
friends,  who  persuaded  him  to  fasten  me  upon  that  school  as 
master,  whereof  I  was  lately  a  scholar.  Now  was  I  fetched 
home  with  an  heavy  heart ;  and  now  this  second  time  had  mine 
hopes  been  nipped  in  the  blossom,  had  not  God  raised  me  up  an 
unhoped  benefactor,  Mr.  Edmund  Sleigh 7  of  Derby  (whose  pious 
memory  I  have  cause  ever  to  love  and  reverence).  Out  of  no 
other  relation  to  me,  save  that  he  married  my  aunt,  pitying  my 
too  apparent  dejectedness,  he  voluntarily  urged,  and  solicited  my 
father  for  my  return  to  the  university,  and  offered  freely  to  con- 
tribute the  one  half  of  my  maintenance  there,  till  I  should  attain 
to  the  degree  of  master  of  arts,  which  he  no  less  really  and 
lovingly  performed.  The  condition  was  gladly  accepted ;  thither 
was  I  sent  back  with  joy  enough,  and  ere  long,  chosen  scholar  of 
that  strict  and  well  ordered  college. 

By  that  time  I  had  spent  six  years  there,  now  the  third  year 
of  my  bachelorship  should  at  once  both  make  an  end  of  my  main- 
tenance, and  in  respect  of  standing,  gave  me  a  capacity  of  fur- 
ther preferment  in  that  house,  were  it  not  that  my  country  ex- 
cluded me,  for  our  statute  allowed  but  one  of  a  shire  to  be  fellow 
there,  and  my  tutor  being  of  the  same  town  with  me,  must  there- 
fore necessarily  hold  me  out.  But,  O  my  God,  how  strangely 
did  thy  gracious  providence  bring  this  business  about !  I  was  now 
entertaining  motions  of  remove.  A  place  was  offered  me  in  the 
island  of  Guernsey,  which  I  had  in  speech  and  chase.  It  fell  out 
that  the  father  of  my  loving  chamberfellow,  Mr.  Cholmley,  a 
gentleman  that  had  likewise  dependance  upon  the  most  noble 
Henry  earl  of  Huntingdon,  having  occasion  to  go  to  York,  unto 
that  his  honourable  lord,  fell  into  some  mention  of  me.  That 
good  earl  (who  well  esteemed  my  fathers  service)  having  belikely 

6  Hugh  Cholmley.']  Probably  of  the  family  of  Chomley  of  Bransby. 

7  Edmund  SleighJ]   Of  Derby  and  Little  Ireton,  of  a  good  family,  which 
became  extinct  at  the  death,  in  1679,  of  Sir  Samuel  Sleigh,  of  Ash  and  Etvvall 
in  Derbyshire,  and  of  Gray's  Inn,  London,  knight. 

VOL.   IV.  T 


274  BISHOP  HALL. 

heard  some  better  words  of  me  than  I  could  deserve,  made  ear- 
nest inquiry  after  me,  what  were  my  courses  ;  what  my  hopes  ; 
and  hearing  of  the  likelihood  of  my  removal,  professed  much 
dislike  of  it ;  not  without  some  vehemence,  demanding  why  I 
was  not  chosen  fellow  of  that  college,  wherein  by  report  I 
received  such  approbation.  Answer  was  returned  that  my  coun- 
try debarred  me ;  which  being  filled  with  my  tutor,  whom  his 
lordship  well  knew,  could  not  by  the  statute  admit  a  second. 
The  earl  presently  replied,  that  if  that  were  the  hinderance  he 
would  soon  take  order  to  remove  it ;  whereupon  his  lordship  pre- 
sently sends  for  my  tutor  Mr.  Gilby  unto  York,  and  with  proffer 
of  large  conditions  of  the  chaplainship  in  his  house,  and  assured 
promises  of  better  provisions,  drew  him  to  relinquish  his  place 
in  the  college  to  a  free  election.  No  sooner  was  his  assent  signi- 
fied, than  the  days  were  set  for  the  public  (and  indeed  exquisite) 
examination  of  the  competitors.  By  that  time  two  days  of  the 
three  allotted  to  this  trial  were  past,  certain  news  came  to  us  of 
the  unexpected  death 8  of  that  incomparably  religious  and  noble 
earl  of  Huntingdon,  by  whose  loss  my  then  disappointed  tutor 
must  necessarily  be  left  to  the  wide  world  unprovided  for.  Upon 
notice  thereof  I  presently  repaired  to  the  master  of  the  college, 
Mr.  Dr.  Chaderton 9,  and  besought  him  to  tender  that  hard  con- 
dition to  which  my  good  tutor  must  needs  be  driven  if  the  election 
proceeded ;  to  stay  any  farther  progress  in  that  business  ;  and  to 
leave  me  to  my  own  good  hopes  wheresoever,  whose  youth  ex- 
posed me  both  to  less  needs,  and  more  opportunities  of  provision. 
Answer  was  made  me,  that  the  place  was  pronounced  void  how- 
ever, and  therefore  that  my  tutor  was  divested  of  all  possibility 
of  remedy ;  and  must  wait  upon  the  providence  of  God  for  his 
disposing  elsewhere,  and  the  election  must  necessarily  proceed 
the  day  following.  Then  was  1  with  a  cheerful  unanimity  chosen 
into  that  society,  which  if  it  had  any  equals,  I  dare  say  had  none 
beyond  it,  for  good  order,  studious  carriage,  strict  government, 
austere  piety ;  in  which  I  spent  six  or  seven  years  more  with 
such  contentment,  as  the  rest  of  my  life  hath  in  vain  striven  t«» 

8  Death.]   15Q5. 

9  Dr.  Chaderton.]   Laurence  Chaderton  was  the  first  master  of  Emannel 
College,  having  been  appointed  by  the  founder.  Sir  Walter  Mildmay.     lit 
was  one  of  the  four  divines  for  the  Conference  at  Hampton  Court,  and  one  of 
the  Translators  of  the  Bible,     lit-,  with  other  Cambridge  divines,  trans 
from  Chronicles  to  Canticles  inclusive.      lie  lived  till 


BISHOP  HALL.  275 

yield.  Now  was  I  called  to  public  disputations  often,  with  no  ill 
success ;  for  never  durst  I  appear  in  any  of  those  exercises  of 
scholarship,  till  I  had  from  my  knees  looked  up  to  heaven  for  a 
blessing,  and  renewed  my  actual  dependence  upon  that  divine 
hand.  In  this  while  two  years  together  was  I  chosen  to  the 
rhetoric  lecture  in  the  public  schools,  where  I  was  encouraged 
with  a  sufficient  frequence  of  auditors ;  but  finding  that  well  ap- 
plauded work  somewhat  out  of  my  way,  not  without  a  secret 
blame  of  myself  for  so  much  excursion,  I  fairly  gave  up  that 
task  in  the  midst  of  those  poor  acclamations  to  a  worthy  succes- 
sor Dr.  Dod,  and  betook  myself  to  those  serious  studies,  which 
might  fit  me  for  that  high  calling  whereunto  I  was  destined, 
wherein  after  I  had  carefully  bestowed  myself  for  a  time,  I  took 
the  boldness  to  enter  into  sacred  orders  ;  the  honour  whereof 
having  once  attained,  I  was  no  niggard  of  that  talent  which  my 
God  had  entrusted  to  me,  preaching  often  as  occasion  was  offered, 
both  in  country  villages  abroad,  and  at  home  in  the  most  awful 
auditory  of  the  university. 

And  now  I  did  but  wait  where  and  how  it  would  please  my 
God  to  employ  me.  There  was  at  that  time  a  famous  school 10 
erected  at  Tiverton  in  Devon,  and  endowed  with  a  very  large 
pension,  whose  goodly  fabric  was  answerable  to  the  reported 
maintenance ;  the  care  whereof,  was  by  the  rich  and  bountiful 
founder  Mr.  Blundel,  cast  principally  upon  the  then  lord  chief 
justice  Popham  *.  That  faithful  observer  having  great  interest  in 
the  master  of  our  house,  Dr.  Chaderton,  moved  him  earnestly 
to  commend  some  able,  learned,  and  discrete  governor  to  that 
weighty  charge,  whose  action  should  not  need  to  be  so  much  as 
his  oversight.  It  pleased  our  master  out  of  his  good  opinion  to 
tender  this  condition  unto  me,  assuring  me  of  no  small  advan- 
tages, and  no  great  toil,  since  it  was  intended  the  main  load  of 
the  work  should  lie  upon  other  shoulders.  I  apprehended  the 
motion  worth  the  entertaining.  In  that  severe  society  our  times 
were  stinted,  neither  was  it  wise  or  safe  to  refuse  good  offers. 
Doctor  Chaderton  carried  me  to  London,  and  there  presented  me 
to  the  lord  chief  justice  with  much  testimony  of  approbation. 

10  Famous  school.']  Founded  by  Peter  Blundell,  clothier,  a  native  of  the 
place,  in  1599.  An  account  of  the  school  was  privately  printed  by  Benjamin 
Incledon,  of  Pilton,  in  Devonshire,  which  was  reprinted  in  1804  by  order  of 
the  feoffees. 

1  Popham^]   Sir  John  Popham. 

T    2 


276  BISHOP  HALL. 

The  judge  seemed  well  apayed  with  the  choice.  I  promised 
acceptance,  he  the  strength  of  his  favour.  No  sooner  had  I 
parted  from  the  judge,  than  in  the  street  a  messenger  presented 
me  with  a  letter,  from  the  right  virtuous  and  worthy  lady  (of 
dear  and  happy  memory)  the  lady  Drury 3  of  Suffolk,  tendering 
the  rectory  of  her  Halsted 3  then  newly  void,  and  very  earnestly 
desiring  me  to  accept  of  it.  Dr.  Chaderton  observing  in  me  some 
change  of  countenance,  asked  me  what  the  matter  might  be.  I 
told  him  the  errand,  and  delivered  him  the  letter  beseeching  his 
advice;  which  when  he  had  read.  u  Sir,"  (quoth  I)  "methinks 
God  pulls  me  by  the  sleeve,  and  tells  me  it  is  his  will  I  should 
rather  go  to  the  east  than  to  the  west."  "  Nay  "  (he  answered) 
"  I  should  rather  think  that  God  would  have  you  go  westward, 
for  that  he  hath  contrived  your  engagement  before  the  tender  of 
this  letter,  which  therefore  coming  too  late  may  receive  a  fair 
and  easy  answer."  To  this  I  besought  him  to  pardon  my  dis- 
sent, adding,  that  I  well  knew  that  divinity  was  the  end  whereto 
1  was  destined  by  my  parents,  which  I  had  so  constantly  pro- 
posed to  myself,  that  I  never  meant  other,  than  to  pass  through 
this  western  school  to  it ;  but  I  saw  that  God  who  found  me 
ready  to  go  the  farther  way  about,  now  called  me  the  nearest  and 
directest  way  to  that  sacred  end.  The  good  man  could  no  fur- 
ther oppose,  but  only  pleaded  the  distaste  which  would  hereupon 
be  justly  taken  by  the  lord  chief  justice,  whom  I  undertook  fully 
to  satisfy ;  which  I  did  *  with  no  great  difficulty,  commending  to 
his  lordship  in  my  room,  my  old  friend  and  chamber-fellow  Mr. 
Cholmley,  who  finding  an  answerable  acceptance  disposed  himself 
to  the  place ;  so  as  we  two,  who  came  together  to  the  university, 
now  must  leave  it  at  once. 

Having  then  fixed  my  foot  at  Halsted,  I  found  there  a  dan- 
gerous opposite  to  the  success  of  my  ministry,  a  witty  and  bold 
atheist,  one  Mr.  Lilly,  who  by  reason  of  his  travails,  and  abili- 
ties of  discourse  and  behaviour,  had  so  deeply  insinuated  himself 
into  my  patron,  sir  Robert  Drury,  that  there  was  small  hopes 
(during  his  entireness)  for  me  to  work  any  good  upon  that  noble 

2  Lady  Drury.']  Anne,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  of  Red- 
grave, the  first  baronet  of  England. 

8  Halsted.]  Now  Hawsted  :  he  was  instituted  December  2,  1601. 

4  Which  I  did.]  He  resigned  on  the  same  day  on  which  he  had  accepted 
the  appointment.  Sir  John  Popham,  however,  did  not  appoint  Cholmley  in 
his  room,  but  Samuel  Butler. 


BISHOP  HALL.  277 

patron  of  mine  ;  who  by  the  suggestion  of  this  wicked  detractor 
was  set  off  from  me  before  he  knew  me.  Hereupon  (I  confess) 
finding  the  obduredness  and  hopeless  condition  of  that  man,  I 
bent  my  prayers  against  him,  beseeching  God  daily,  that  he  would 
be  pleased  to  remove  by  some  means  or  other,  that  apparent  hin- 
derance  of  my  faithful  labours ;  who  gave  me  an  answer  accord- 
ingly. For  this  malicious  man  going  hastily  up  to  London,  to 
exasperate  my  patron  against  me,  was  then  and  there  swept 
away  by  the  pestilence,  and  never  returned  to  do  any  farther 
mischief. 

Now  the  coast  was  clear  before  me,  and  I  gained  every  day  of 
the  good  opinion  and  favourable  respects  of  that  honourable  gen- 
tleman and  my  worthy  neighbours.  Being  now  therefore  settled 
in  that  sweet  and  civil  country  of  Suffolk,  near  to  St.  EdmundV 
Bury,  my  first  work  was  to  build  up  my  house  which  was  then 
extremely  ruinous ;  which  done,  the  uncouth  solitariness  of  my 
life,  and  the  extreme  incommodity  of  that  single  house-keeping, 
drew  my  thoughts  after  two  years  to  condescend  to  the  necessity 
of  a  married  estate,  which  God  no  less  strangely  provided  for  me. 
For  walking  from  the  church  on  Monday  in  the  Whitsun-week, 
with  a  grave  and  reverend  minister,  Mr.  Grandidge,  I  saw  a 
comely  modest  gentlewoman  standing  at  the  door  of  that  house, 
where  we  were  invited  to  a  wedding-dinner,  and  enquiring  of  that 
worthy  friend  whether  he  knew  her,  "  Yes,"  (quoth  he)  "  I  know 
her  well,  and  have  bespoken  her  for  your  wife."  When  I  fur- 
ther demanded  an  account  of  that  answer,  he  told  me,  she  was 
the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  whom  he  much  respected,  Mr. 
George  Winniff 5  of  Bretenham  ;  that  out  of  an  opinion  had  of  the 
fitness  of  that  match  for  me,  he  had  already  treated  with  her 
father  about  it,  whom  he  found  very  apt  to  entertain  it,  advising 
me  not  to  neglect  the  opportunity ;  and  not  concealing  the  just 
praises  of  the  modesty,  piety,  good  disposition,  and  other  virtues 
that  were  lodged  in  that  seemly  presence,  I  listened  to  the  mo- 
tion as  sent  from  God ;  and  at  last  upon  due  prosecution  happily 
prevailed,  enjoying  the  comfortable  society  of  that  meet  help  for 
the  space  of  forty-nine  years. 

I  had  not  passed  two  years  in  this  estate  when  my  noble  friend 
sir  Edmund  Bacon 6,  with  whom  I  had  much  intireness,  came  to 

6  Winniff.~]  Or  Wenyeve.  The  bishop's  eldest  son,  Robert,  was  christened  at 
Hawsted  on  December  26,  1605. 
6  Sir  Edmund  Bacon.']  Brother  to  lady  Drury. 


278  BISHOP  HALL. 

me,  and  earnestly  solicited  me  for  my  company  in  a  journey  by 
him  projected  to  the  Spa  in  Ardenna 7,  laying  before  me  the  safety, 
the  easiness,  the  pleasure,  and  the  benefit  of  that  small  extrava- 
gance, if  opportunity  were  taken  at  that  time,  when  the  earl  of 
Hertford 8  passed  in  embassy  to  the  arch-duke  Albert  of  Bruxells. 
I  soon  yielded,  as  for  the  reasons  by  him  urged,  so  especially  for 
the  great  desire  I  had  to  inform  myself  ocularly  of  the  state  and 
practice  of  the  Romish  church ;  the  knowledge  whereof  might 
be  of  no  small  use  to  me  in  my  holy  station.  Having  therefore 
taken  careful  order  for  the  supply  of  my  charge,  with  the  assent 
and  good  allowance  of  my  nearest  friends,  I  entered  into  this 
secret  voyage 9. 

7  In  Ardenna.']  In  the  forest  of  Ardennes. 

8  Earl  of  HertfcrdJ]   Edward   Seymour,  earl  of    Hertford,  son  of  the 
Protector  duke  of  Somerset,  and   celebrated  for  his  marriage  with  lady 
Katharine  Grey.   The  embassy  in  1 605  was  special,  to  confirm  a  peace ;  and  the 
earl,  who  was  generally  thought  to  be  master  of  more  ready  money  than  any 
nobleman  in  England,  resolved  to  make  a  splendid  appearance,  and  to  spend 
10,000/.  besides  his  allowance. 

9  This  secret  voyage.]   See  Bishop  Hall's  Epistles,  Decad.  i.  epist.  5.     A 
report  of  some  observations  in  my  TYavel. 

I  give  an  extract  or  two  from  this  letter  of  matters  not  comprehended  in 
the  text. 

"  All  civil  occurrences ;  as  what  fair  cities,  what  strange  fashions,  enter- 
tainments, dangers,  delights  we  found, — are  fit  for  other  ears,  and  winter 
evenings  :  what  I  noted  as  a  divine,  within  the  sphere  of  my  profession,  my 
paper  shall  not  spare,  in  some  part,  to  report. 

"  Along  our  way,  how  many  churches  saw  we  demolished  !  Nothing  left, 
but  rude  heaps,  to  tell  the  passenger,  there  had  been  both  devotion  and  hos- 
tility. O  !  the  miserable  footsteps  of  war,  besides  bloodshed,  ruin,  and  deso- 
lation !  Fury  hath  done  that  there,  which  covetousness  would  do  with  us : — 
would  do,  but  shall  not :  the  truth  within  shall  save  the  walls  without.  And, 
to  speak  truly,  whatever  the  vulgar  exclaim,  idolatry  pulled  down  those  walls ; 
not  rage.  If  there  had  been  no  Hollander  to  raze  them,  they  should  have 
fallen  alone ;  rather  than  hide  so  much  impiety  under  their  guilty  roof. — 
These  are  spectacles,  not  so  much  of  cruelty,  as  justice :  cruelty  of  man,  justice 
of  God. 

"  But, — which  I  wondered  at,  churches  fall,  and  Jesuits'  colleges  rise  every 
where :  there  is  no  city,  where  these  are  not  either  rearing,  or  built.  Whence 
cometh  this  ?  Is  it,  for  that  devotion  is  not  so  necessary,  as  policy  ?  Those 
men,  as  we  say  of  the  fox,  fare  best,  when  they  are  most  cursed.  None,  so 
much  spited  of  their  own ;  none,  so  hated  of  all ;  none,  so  opposed  by  ours  : 
and  yet,  these  ill  weeds  grow.  Whosoever  lives  long,  shall  see  them  feared 
of  their  own,  which  now  hate  them  :  shall  see  these  seven  lean  kine  devour 
all  the  fat  beasts,  that  feed  on  the  meadows  of  Tiber.  I  prophesy,  as  Pharaoh 
dreamed  :  the  event  shall  justify  my  confidence.  ["  At 


BISHOP  HALL.  279 

We  waited  some  days  at  Harwich  for  a  wind,  which  we  hoped 
might  waft  us  over  to  Dunkirk,  where  our  ambassador  had  lately 
landed ;  but  at  last  having  spent  a  day,  and  half  a  night  at  sea, 
we  were  forced  for  want  of  favour  from  the  wind,  to  put  in  at 
Queenborough,  from  whence  coasting  over  the  rich  and  pleasant 
county  of  Kent,  we  renewed  our  shipping  at  Dover,  and  soon 
landing  at  Calais,  we  passed  after  two  days  by  waggon  to  the 
strong  towns  of  Graveling,  and  Dunkirk,  where  I  could  not  but 
find  much  horror  in  myself  to  pass  under  those  dark  and  dreadful 
prisons,  where  so  many  brave  Englishmen  had  breathed  out  their 
souls  in  a  miserable  captivity.  From  thence  we  passed  through 
Winnoxburgh,  Ipre,  Gaunt,  Courtray,  to  Bruxells,  where  the 

"  At  Brussells  I  saw  some  English  women  profess  themselves  vestals  ;  with 
a  thousand  rites,  I  know  not  whether  more  ridiculous,  or  magical.  Poor 
souls  !  they  could  not  be  fools  enough  at  home.  It  would  have  made  you  to 
pity,  laugh,  disdain,  I  know  not  which  most,  to  see  by  what  cunning  slights 
and  fair  pretences,  that  weak  sex  was  fetched  into  a  wilful  bondage  :  and,  if 
those  two  can  agree,  willingly  constrained  to  serve  a  master,  whom  they  must 
and  cannot  obey :  whom  they  may  neither  forsake  for  their  vow,  nor  can 
please  for  their  frailty. — What  follows  hence  ?  Late  sorrow,  secret  mischief, 
misery  irremediable.  Their  forwardness  for  will-worship  shall  condemn  our 
coldness  for  truth 

f '  At  Ghent,  a  city  that  commands  reverence  for  age,  and  wonder  for  great- 
ness, we  fell  upon  a  Capuchin  novice,  which  wept  bitterly,  because  he  was 
not  allowed  to  be  miserable.  His  head  had  now  felt  the  razor ;  his  back,  the 
rod  :  all  that  laconical  discipline  pleased  him  well ;  which  another,  being 
condemned  to,  would  justly  account  a  torment. — What  hindered,  then  ? — 
Piety  to  his  mother  would  not  permit  this,  which  he  thought  piety  to  God  : 
He  could  not  be  a  willing  beggar,  unless  his  mother  must  beg  unwillingly. 
He  was  the  only  heir  of  his  father ;  the  only  stay  of  his  mother.  The  com- 
fort of  her  widowhood  depended  on  this  her  orphan  ;  who  now,  naked,  must 
enter  into  the  world  of  the  Capuchins,  as  he  came  first  into  this  ;  leaving  his 
goods  to  the  division  of  the  fraternity  :  the  least  part  whereof  should  have 
been  hers,  whose  he  wished  all.  Hence  those  tears,  that  repulse.  I  pitied 
his  ill-bestowed  zeal;  and  rather  wished,  than  durst  teach  him,  more  wisdom. 
These  men  for  devout,  the  Jesuits  for  learned  and  pragmatical,  have  engrossed 
all  opinions  from  other  orders. — O  hypocrisy !  No  Capuchin  may  take,  or 
touch  silver  :  for  these  are,  you  know,  the  quintessence  of  Franciscan  spirits. 
This  metal  is  as  very  an  anathema  to  these,  as  the  wedge  of  gold  to  Achan  : 
at  the  offer  whereof,  he  starts  back,  as  Moses  from  the  serpent :  yet  he  car- 
ries a  boy  with  him,  that  takes  and  carries  it ;  and  never  complains  of  either 
metal  or  measure.  I  saw,  and  laughed  at  it ;  and,  by  this  open  trick  of 
hypocrisy,  suspected  more,  more  close.  How  could  I  choose  ?  while,  com- 
monly, the  least  appears  of  that  which  is  loathsome  in  appearance,  much  more 
in  nature. — At  Namur,  on  a  pleasant  and  steep  hill-top,  we  found  one,  that 
was  termed  a  married  hermit ;  approving  his  wisdom  above  his  fellows,  that 
could  make  choice  of  so  cheerful  and  sociable  a  solitariness." 


280  BISHOP  HALL. 

ambassador  had  newly  sate  down  before  us.  That  noble  gentle- 
man in  whose  company  I  travelled,  was  welcomed  with  many  kind 
visitations.  Amongst  the  rest  there  came  to  him  an  English  gen- 
tleman, who  having  run  himself  out  of  breath  in  the  inns  of  court, 
had  forsaken  his  country,  and  therewith  his  religion,  and  \\a-> 
turned  both  bigot  and  physician,  residing  now  in  Bruxells.  This 
man,  after  few  interchanges  of  compliment  with  sir  Edmund  Bacon, 
fell  into  an  hyperbolical  predication  of  the  wonderful  miracles 
done  newly *  by  our  lady  at  Zichem,  or  Sherpen  heavell,  that  is 
Sharp  hill ;  by  Lipsius  called  Aspricollis ;  the  credit  whereof  whun 
that  worthy  knight  wittily  questioned,  he  avowed  a  particular 
miracle  of  cure  wrought  by  her  upon  himself.  I  coming  into  the 
room  in  the  midst  of  this  discourse  (habited  not  like  a  divine, 
but  in  such  colour  and  fashion  as  might  best  secure  my  travel) 
and  hearing  my  countryman's  zealous  and  confident  relations,  at 
last  asked  him  this  question,  "  Sir,"  (quoth  I)  "  Put  case  this 
report  of  yours  be  granted  for  true,  I  beseech  you  teach  me  what 
difference  there  is  betwixt  these  miracles  which  you  say  are 
wrought  by  this  lady,  and  those  which  were  wrought  by  Vespasian, 
by  some  vestals,  by  charms  and  spells ;  the  rather  for  that  I  have 
noted,  in  the  late  published  report  of  these  miracles,  some  patients 
prescribed  to  come  upon  a  Friday,  and  some  to  wash  in  such  a 
well  before  their  approach;  and  divers  other  such  charm-like 
observations."  The  gentleman  not  expecting  such  a  question 
from  me,  answered,  "  Sir,  I  do  not  profess  this  kind  of  scholarship, 
but  we  have  in  the  city  many  famous  divines,  with  whom  if  it 
would  please  you  to  confer,  you  might  sooner  receive  satisfaction." 
I  asked  whom  he  took  for  the  most  eminent  divine  of  that 
place :  he  named  to  me  father  Costerus 8,  undertaking  that  he 

1  Wonderful  miracles  done  newly. ~]  At  Sichem,  a  small  town  in  Brabant, 
between  Aerschot  and  Diest,  and  seated  on  the  Demer,  was  an  old  church, 
repaired  by  the  archdukes  Albert  and  Isabella,  called  by  .the  natives  "  Scherpen- 
heuwel,"  by  the  French  Notre  Dame  de  Mont-aigu,  and  in  Latin  Sacellum  Diva 
Virginis  Aspricollis.  In  1G05,  the  year  before  his  death,  Justus  Lipsius  gave 
a  long  account  of  the  nova  beneficia  et  admiranda  operated  by  the  miracle- 
working  image  there  preserved,  and  he  dedicated  his  book  to  the  archduchess 
Isabella.  At  his  death  he  bequeathed  to  the  image  his  silver  pen  and  his 
furred  robe,  whereupon  some  one  wrote : 

"  Sensit  homo  frigere  suae  miracula  Divae, 

Crassaque  pro  calido  stragula  thure  dedit." 

2  Costerus."]  Franciscus  Costerus,  Provincial  in  the  Netherlands,  afterward^ 
general  of  the  order  at  Rome.  He  was  at  this  time  in  his  75th  year.  He 
died  in  1619. 


BISHOP  HALL.  281 

would  be  very  glad  to  give  me  conference,  if  I  would  be  pleased  to 
come  up  to  the  Jesuits  college.  I  willingly  yielded.  In  the 
afternoon  the  forward  gentleman  prevented  his  time  to  attend 
me  to  the  father,  (as  he  styled  him,)  who  (as  he  said)  was 
ready  to  entertain  me  with  a  meeting.  I  went  alone  up  with 
him ;  the  porter  shutting  the  door  after  me,  welcomed  me 
with  a  Deo  gratias.  I  had  not  stayed  long  in  the  Jesuits  hall, 
before  Costerus  came  in  to  me,  who  after  a  friendly  salutation, 
fell  into  a  formal  speech  of  the  unity  of  that  church,  out  of  which 
is  no  salvation,  and  had  proceeded  to  lose  his  breath,  and  labour, 
had  not  I  (as  civilly  as  I  might)  interrupted  him  with  this  short 
answer ;  "  Sir,  I  beseech  you  mistake  me  not.  My  nation  tells 
you  of  what  religion  I  am.  I  come  not  hither  out  of  any  doubt 
of  my  professed  belief,  or  any  purpose  to  change  it,  but  moving  a 
question  to  this  gentleman,  concerning  the  pretended  miracles  of 
the  time,  he  pleased  to  refer  me  to  yourself  for  my  answer,  which 
motion  of  his  I  was  the  more  willing  to  embrace,  for  the  fame 
that  I  have  heard  of  your  learning  and  worth ;  and  if  you  can 
give  me  satisfaction  herein,  I  am  ready  to  receive  it."  Hereupon 
we  settled  to  our  places,  at  a  table  in  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  buckled  to  a  farther  discourse.  He  fell  into  a  poor  and 
unperfect  account  of  the  difference  of  divine  miracles  and  dia- 
bolical ;  which  I  modestly  refuted :  from  thence  he  slipped  into 
a  cholerick  invective  against  our  church,  which  (as  he  said) 
could  not  yield  one  miracle;  and  when  I  answered,  that  in 
our  church,  we  had  manifest  proofs  of  the  ejection  of  devils  by 
fasting  and  prayer,  he  answered  that  if  it  could  be  proved,  that 
ever  any  devil  was  dispossessed  in  our  church,  he  would  quit  his 
religion. — Many  questions  were  incidentally  traversed  by  me; 
wherein  I  found  no  satisfaction  given  me.  The  conference  was 
long  and  vehement ;  in  the  heat  whereof,  who  should  come  in 
but  father  Baldwin 3,  an  English  Jesuit,  known  to  me,  as  by  face 
(after  I  came  to  Brussels)  so  much  more  by  fame.  He  sate  down 
upon  a  bench  at  the  further  end  of  the  table,  and  heard  no  small 
part  of  our  dissertation,  seeming  not  too  well  apaid,  that  a  gentle- 
man of  his  nation,  (for  still  I  was  spoken  to  in  that  habit,  by  the 
stile  of  dominatio  vestra)  should  depart  from  the  Jesuits  college 

3  Father  Baldwin.]  William  Baldwin,  a  native  of  Cornwall,  at  first  professor 
of  theology  at  Louvain,  and  vice-prefect  of  the  English  Jesuit  mission  in  the 
Netherlands ;  afterwards  rector  of  the  English  seminary  at  St.  Omer.  He 
died  September  28,  1632,  aged  69. 


282  BISHOP  HALL. 

no  better  satisfied.  On  the  next  morning  therefore  he  sends  the 
same  English  physician  to  my  lodging  with  a  courteous  compel- 
lation,  professing  to  take  it  unkindly,  that  his  countryman  should 
make  choice  of  any  other,  to  confer  with,  than  himself,  who 
desired  both  mine  acquaintance  and  full  satisfaction.  Sir  Ed- 
mund Bacon,  in  whose  hearing  the  message  was  delivered,  gave 
me  secret  signs  of  his  utter  unwillingness  to  give  way  to  my  fur- 
ther conferences,  the  issue  whereof  (since  we  were  to  pass  further, 
and  beyond  the  bounds  of  that  protection)  might  prove  dangerous. 
I  returned  a  mannerly  answer  of  thanks  to  father  Baldwin  ;  but 
for  any  further  conference,  that  it  were  bootless.  I  could  not 
hope  to  convert  him,  and  was  resolved  he  should  not  alter  HK>, 
and  therefore  both  of  us  should  rest  where  we  were. 

Departing  from  Brussels  we  were  for  Namur,  and  Liege.  In 
the  way  we  found  the  good  hand  of  God,  in  delivering  us  from 
the  danger  of  free-booters,  and  of  a  nightly  entrance  (amidst  a 
suspicious  convoy)  into  that  bloody  city.  Thence  we  came  to  the 
Spadane  waters,  where  I  had  good  leisure  to  add  a  second  cen- 
tury of  meditations4  to  those  1  had  published  before  my  journey. 
After  we  had  spent  a  just  time  at  those  medicinal  wells,  we 
returned  to  Liege,  and  in  our  passage  up  the  river  Mosa5,  I  had 
a  dangerous  conflict  with  a  Sorbonist,  a  prior  of  the  Carmelites, 
who  took  occasion  by  our  kneeling  at  the  receipt  of  the  eucha- 
rist,  to  persuade  all  the  company  of  our  acknowledgment  of  a 
transubstantiation.  I  satisfied  the  cavil,  shewing  upon  what 
ground  *  this  meet  posture  obtained  with  us.  The  man  grew 
furious  upon  his  conviction,  and  his  vehement  associates  began  to 
join  with  him,  in  a  right  down  railing  upon  our  church,  and  ivli- 
gion.  I  told  them  they  knew  where  they  were :  for  me,  I  had 
taken  notice  of  the  security  of  their  laws,  inhibiting  any  argu- 
ment held  against  their  religion  established,  and  therefore  stood 
only  upon  my  defence,  not  casting  any  aspersion  upon  theirs,  but 
ready  to  maintain  our  own  ;  which  though  I  performed  in  as  fair 
terms  as  I  might,  yet  the  choler  of  those  zealots  was  so  moved 
that  the  paleness  of  their  changed  countenances  began  to  threaten 

4  Century  of  Meditations. ,]  See  "  Meditations  and  Vows,"  century  the  third, 
dedicated  to  sir  Edmund  Bacon.  Bp.  Hall's  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  37,  8.  edit. 
1634.  fol. 

*  Mosa.']  The  Maas. 

6  Upon  what  yround.~]  Stc  the  Rubrics  subjoined  to  the  order  for  Adminis- 
tration of  the  Holy  C'oiiiimiinoii,  in  the  Book  of  Common  Pra 


BISHOP  HALL.  283 

some  perilous  issue,  had  not  sir  Edmund  Bacon,  both  by  his  eye, 
and  by  his  tongue,  wisely  taken  me  off.  I  subduced  myself 
speedily  from  their  presence,  to  avoid  further  provocation  :  the 
prior  began  to  bewray  some  suspicions  of  my  borrowed  habit,  and 
told  them,  that  himself  had  a  green  satin  suit  once  prepared  for 
his  travels  into  England,  so  as  I  found  it  needful  for  me  to  lie 
close  at  Namur ;  from  whence  travelling  the  next  day  towards 
Brussels  in  the  company  of  two  Italian  captains,  seignior  Ascanio 
Negro  and  another  whose  name  I  have  forgotten  :  they  enquiring 
into  our  nation  and  religion,  wondered  to  hear  that  we  had  any 
baptism  or  churches 7  in  England.  The  congruity  of  my  Latin, 
(in  respect  of  their  perfect  barbarism)  drew  me  and  the  rest  into 
their  suspicion,  so  as  I  might  overhear  them  muttering  to  each 
other,  that  we  were  not  the  men  we  appeared.  Straight  the  one 
of  them  boldly  exprest  his  conceit,  and  together  with  this  charge, 
began  to  enquire  of  our  condition.  I  told  them  that  the  gentle- 
man he  saw  before  us,  was  the  grandchild  of  that  renowned  Bacon, 
the  great  chancellor  of  England,  a  man  of  great  birth  and  quality, 
and  that  myself,  and  my  other  companions,  travelled  in  his  attend- 
ance to  the  Spa,  from  the  train,  and  under  the  privilege  of  our 
late  ambassador ;  with  which  just  answer  I  stopped  their  mouths. 
Returning  through  Brussels  we  came  down  to  Antwerp,  the 
paragon  of  cities ;  where  my  curiosity  to  see  a  solemn  procession 
on  St.  John  Baptist's  day  might  have  drawn  me  into  danger 
(through  my  willing  unreverence 8)  had  not  the  hulk  of  a  tall 
Brabanter,  behind  whom  1  stood  in  a  corner  of  a  street,  shadowed 

7  Baptism  or  churches.']  Compare  above,  Life  of  Whitgift,  vol.  iii.  pp.  618- 
621,  and  note. 

8  Willing  unreverence^]   When   Dr.  Edward   Pocock,  the  great  oriental 
scholar,  was  on  his  return  from  Constantinople,  in  the  year  1640,  during 
some  stay  which  he  made  at  Genoa,  there  was  (as  he  would  often  tell  his 
friends)  "  on  a  certain  day,  a  religious  procession,  which  went  through  the 
streets  with  all  the  ceremonial  pomp,  that  is  usual  on  such  occasions.     And 
as  he  stood  in  a  convenient  place,  to  take  a  view  of  it,  he  was  surprised 
with  the  discourse  of  some  persons,  at  a  little  distance,  who  talked  in  Arabic. 
They  were  a  couple  of  slaves  in  chains,  who  being  confident  that  nobody 
could  understand  the  language  they  spake  in,  expressed  their  opinions  of 
what  they  saw  with  all  manner  of  freedom.   And  as  they  rallied  the  pageantry 
they  beheld,  with  a  great  deal  of  wit,  so  from  it  they  took  occasion  to  ridicule 
Christianity  itself,  and  to  load  it  with  contempt.    So  unhappy  has  the  church 
of  Rome  been  in  her  practices  on  the  Christian  religion  :  for  whilst  to  serve 
some  worldly  designs,  she  hath  laboured  to  engage  the  minds  of  the  vulgar 
sort  by  empty  shows  and  superstitious  solemnities,  she  hath  by  those  corrupt 


284  BISHOP  HALL. 

me  from  notice.  Thence  down  the  fair  river  of  Scheld,  we  came 
to  Flushing,  where  upon  the  resolution  of  our  company  to  stay 
some  hours,  I  hasted  to  Middleburgh  to  see  an  ancient  college. 
That  visit  lost  me  my  passage  ;  ere  I  could  return,  I  might  see 
our  ship  under  sail  for  England.  The  master  had  with  the  wind 
altered  his  purpose,  and  called  aboard  with  such  eagerness,  that 
my  company  must  either  away,  or  undergo  the  hazard  of  too 
much  loss.  I  looked  long  after  them  in  vain,  and  sadly  returning 
to  Middleburgh  waited  long,  for  an  inconvenient  and  tempestuous 
passage. 

After  some  year  and  half,  it  pleased  God  unexpectedly  to  con- 
trive the  change  of  my  station9.  My  means  were  but  short  at 
Halsted  ;  yet  such  as  I  often  professed,  if  my  then  patron  would 
have  added  but  one  ten  pounds  by  year,  (which  I  held  to  be  the 
value  of  my  detained  due)  I  should  never  have  removed.  One 
morning  as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  a  strong  motion  was  suddenly 
glanced  into  my  thoughts  of  going  to  London.  I  rose  and 
betook  me  to  the  way.  The  ground  that  appeared  of  that  pur- 
pose, was  to  speak  with  my  patron  sir  Robert  Drury,  if  by 
occasion  of  the  public  preachership  of  St.  Edmunds  Bury,  then 
offered  me  upon  good  conditions,  I  might  draw  him  to  a  willing 
yieldance  of  that  parcel  of  my  due  maintenance ',  which  was  kept 
back  from  my  not  over-deserving  predecessor.  Who  hearing  my 
errand  dissuaded  me  from  so  ungainful  a  change,  which  had  it 

additions,  exposed  what  is  infinitely  rational,  wise  and  good,  to  the  laughter 
and  reproach  of  infidels."  Twell's  Life  ofPocock,  p.  18,  prefixed  to  Pocock's 
Theological  Works,  vol.  i.  Compare  also  above,Lt/e  ofBilney,  vol.  ii.  p.  I7,note. 

9  The  change  of  my  station.']  See  Epistles,  Decad.  1.  Epist.  9.  "  I  conjecture 
he  did  not  much  reside  here  (at  Hawsted) ;  for  during  his  time  there  are  not 
above  two  years  in  the  register  of  the  same  hand.  While  he  did  reside,  he 
preached  three  times  a  week.  Till  within  a  few  years,  there  was  (as  I  am  in- 
formed by  a  gentleman  who  has  seen  it)  in  the  parsonage-house,  a  plate  of 
lead  with  his  motto,  Imum  nolo ;  Summum  nequeo ;  Quiesco.  Adopted,  I 
suppose,  when  he  first  settled  here,  and  expressive  of  a  mind,  not  totally 
unambitious,  yet  content :  and  it  is  probable,  if  his  situation  here  had  been 
comfortable,  he  would  have  lived  and  died  in  the  same  obscurity  with  his 
predecessors  and  successors  in  this  rectory."  Cullum's  History  of  Hawsted, 
1784,  p.  65. 

1  My  due  maintenance.]  "  Upon  his  return,  he  found  not  that  satisfaction 
which  he  expected  in  this  place ;  his  patron,  sir  Robert  Drury,  refusing  to 
restore  to  the  rectory  about  ten  pounds  a  year,  and  insisting,  as  tradition 
reports,  upon  his  acceptance  of  a  modus  for  the  herbage  of  the  park."  Cul- 
lum's  History  of  Hawsted,  p.  65. 


BISHOP  HALL.  285 

been  to  my  sensible  advantage,  he  should  have  readily  given  way 
unto,  but  not  offering  me  the  expected  encouragement  of  my  con- 
tinuance ;  with  him  I  stayed  and  preached  on  the  Sunday  fol- 
lowing. That  day  sir  Robert  Drury,  meeting  with  the  lord 
Denny 2,  fell  belike  into  the  commendation  of  my  sermon.  That 
religious  and  noble  lord  had  long  harboured  good  thoughts  con- 
cerning me,  upon  the  reading  of  those  poor  pamphlets  which  I 
had  formerly  published:  and  long  wished  the  opportunity  to 
know  me.  To  please  him  in  this  desire,  sir  Robert  willed  me 
to  go  and  tender  my  service  to  his  lordship,  which  I  modestly 
and  seriously  deprecated ;  yet  upon  his  earnest  charge  went  to 
his  lordship's  gate,  where  I  was  not  sorry  to  hear  of  his  absence. 
Being  now  full  of  cold  and  distemper  in  Drury-lane 3,  I  was 
found  out  by  a  friend,  in  whom  I  had  formerly  no  great  interest, 
one  Mr.  Gurrey 4,  tutor  to  the  earl  of  Essex.  He  told  me  how 
well  my  Meditations  were  accepted  at  the  prince's  court  (p. 
Henry)  ;  and  earnestly  advised  me  to  step  over  to  Richmond,  and 
preach  to  his  highness.  I  strongly  pleaded  my  indisposition 
of  body,  and  my  inpreparation  for  any  such  work,  together  with 
my  bashful  fears,  and  utter  unfitness  for  such  a  presence.  My 
averseness  doubled  his  importunity  ;  in  fine,  he  left  me  not  till 
he  had  my  engagement  to  preach  the  Sunday  following  at 
Richmond.  He  made  way  for  me  to  that  awful  pulpit,  and 
encouraged  me  by  the  favour  of  his  noble  lord  the  earl  of  Essex. 
I  preached :  through  the  favour  of  my  God,  that  sermon  was  not 
so  well  given  as  taken  ;  in  so  much  as  that  sweet  prince  signified 
his  desire  to  hear  me  again  the  Tuesday  following ;  which  done, 
that  labour  gave  more  contentment  than  the  former ;  so  as  that 
gracious  prince,  both  gave  me  his  hand  and  commanded  me  to 
his  service.  My  patron  seeing  me  (upon  my  return  to  London) 
looked  after  by  some  great  persons,  began  to  wish  me  at  home, 
and  told  me  that  some  or  other  would  be  snatching  me  up.  I 
answered  it  was  in  his  power  to  prevent.  Would  he  be  pleased 
to  make  my  maintenance  but  so  competent  as  in  right  it  should 
be,  I  would  never  stir  from  him.  Instead  of  condescending,  it 

"  Lord  Denny. .]  Sir  Edward  Denny  of  Waltham,  created  lord  Denny,  27th 
October,  1604,  and  earl  of  Norwich,  24th  October,  1626.  He  died  without 
issue,  in  1630. 

3  Drury-lane']  Where  was  the  town  house  of  the  Drury  family,  which  gave 
its  name  to  that  locality. 

1  Mr.  Gurrey.']  Thomas  Gurrey,  M.A.,  one  of  the  prebendaries  of  Wolver- 
hampton. 


286  BISHOP  HALL. 

pleased  him  to  fall  into  an  expostulation  of  the  rate  of  com- 
petencies, affirming  the  variableness  thereof  according  to  our  own 
estimation,  and  our  either  raising  or  moderating  the  causes  of 
our  expences.  I  showed  him  the  insufficiency  of  my  means : 
that  I  was  forced  to  write  books  to  buy  books :  shortly,  some 
harsh  and  unpleasing  answer  so  disheartened  me  that  I  resolved 
to  embrace  the  first  opportunity  of  my  remove. 

Now  whilst  I  was  taken  up  with  these  anxious  thoughts,  a 
messenger  (it  was  sir  Robert  Wingfield  of  Northampton's  son) 
came  to  me  from  the  lord  Denny,  (now  earl  of  Norwich)  my 
after  most  honourable  patron,  entreating  me  from  his  lordship  to 
speak  with  him.  No  sooner  came  I  thither,  than  after  a  glad 
and  noble  welcome,  I  was  entertained  with  the  earnest  offer  of 
Waltham.  The  conditions  were  like  the  mover  of  them,  free 
and  bountiful.  I  received  them,  as  from  the  munificent  hand  of 
my  God ;  and  returned  full  of  the  cheerful  acknowledgments  of 
a  gracious  providence  over  me.  Too  late  now  did  my  former 
noble  patron  relent,  and  offer  me  those  terms  which  had  before 
fastened  me  for  ever.  I  returned  home  happy  in  a  new  master, 
and  in  a  new  patron ;  betwixt  whom  I  divided  myself  and  my 
labours,  with  much  comfort  and  no  less  acceptation. 

In  the  second  year  of  mine  attendance  on  his  highness,  when 
I  came  for  my  dismission  from  that  monthly  service,  it  pleased 
the  prince  to  command  me  a  longer  stay:  and  at  last  mi  no 
allowed  departure,  by  the  mouth  of  sir  Thomas  Challonner,  his 
governor,  to  tender  unto  me  a  motion  of  more  honour  and  favour 
than  I  was  worthy  of;  which  was,  that  it  was  his  highness1  plea- 
sure and  purpose,  to  have  me  continually  resident  at  the  court  as 
a  constant  attendant,  whilst  the  rest  held  on  their  wonted  vicissi- 
tudes ;  for  which  purpose  his  highness  would  obtain  for  me  such 
preferments  as  should  yield  me  full  contentment.  I  returned  my 
humblest  thanks,  and  my  readiness  to  sacrifice  myself  to  the  ser- 
vice of  so  gracious  a  master 5,  but  being  conscious  to  myself  of  my 
unanswerableness  to  so  great  expectation,  and  loth  to  forsake  so 
dear  and  noble  a  patron,  who  had  placed  much  of  his  heart  upon 
me,  I  did  modestly  put  it  off,  and  held  close  to  my  \Valtham  ; 
where  in  a  constant  course  I  preached  a  long  time,  (as  I  had  done 
also  at  Halstead  before)  thrice  in  the  week  ;  yet  never  durst  I 
climb  into  the  pulpit,  to  preach  any  sermon,  whereof  I  had  not 
before  in  my  poor  and  plain  fashion,  pen n- d  <  very  word  in  tin- 
5  So  yracious  a  master.]  Prince  Henry  died  (*«th  November,  1612. 


BISHOP  HALL.  287 

same  order  wherein  I  hoped  to  deliver  it,  although  in  the  expres- 
sion I  listed  not  to  be  a  slave  to  syllables. 

In  this  while  my  worthy  kinsman,  Mr.  Samuel  Burton,  arch- 
deacon of  Glocester,  knowing  in  how  good  terms  I  stood  at  court, 
and  pitying  the  miserable  condition  of  his  native  church  of  Wol- 
verhampton,  was  very  desirous  to  engage  me  in  so  difficult  and 
noble  a  service  as  the  redemption  of  that  captivated  church.  For 
which  cause  he  importuned  me  to  move  some  of  my  friends,  to 
solicit  the  dean  of  Windsor 6,  (who  by  an  ancient  annexation 7  is 
patron  thereof,)  for  the  grant  of  a  particular  prebend,  when  it 
should  fall  vacant  in  that  church.  Answer  was  returned  me, 
that  it  was  fore  promised  to  one  of  my  fellow  chaplains.  I  sate 
down  without  further  expectation.  Some  year  or  two  after, 
hearing  that  it  was  become  void,  and  meeting  with  that  fellow 
chaplain  of  mine ;  I  wished  him  much  joy  of  the  prebend.  He 
asked  me  if  it  were  void  :  I  assured  him  so ;  and  telling  him  of 
the  former  answer  delivered  to  me  in  my  ignorance  of  his  engage- 
ment, wished  him  to  hasten  his  possession  of  it.  He  delayed  not. 
When  he  came  to  the  dean  of  Windsor,  for  his  promised  dis- 

(i  Dean  of  Windsor]  Most  probably  Anthony  Maxey,  who  was  dean  from 
1612  to  1618.  His  predecessor  was  Giles  Thompson,  who  had  been  appointed 
in  1602. 

7  An  ancient  annexation.]  The  deanery  of  Wolverhampton  is  one  of  the  most 
ancient  ecclesiastical  foundations  in  England,  dating  from  996.  It  was  con- 
firmed by  successive  sovereigns.  Edward  II.  granted  to  many  of  his  free 
chapels,  amongst  which  this  of  Wolverhampton  is  named,  exemption  from 
all  ordinary  jurisdiction,  with  many  other  privileges.  In  1479,  Edward  IV. 
annexed  the  college,  or  free  chapel,  of  Wolverhampton  to  the  chapel  of  Wind- 
sor, so  that  the  dean  of  St.  George's,  at  Windsor,  should  be  dean  of  the  free 
chapel  of  Wolverhampton  and  prebendary  of  the  first  prebend.  This  grant 
was  confirmed  by  act  of  parliament. 

When,  in  the  first  year  of  Edward  VI.,  collegiate  churches,  free  chapels,  &c., 
were  dissolved,  the  chapel  of  St.  George,  at  Windsor,  was  excepted,  but  that 
of  Wolverhampton  was  seized  by  the  crown.  On  the  2nd  of  March,  1553, 
shortly  before  his  death,  Edward  VI.  granted  it  to  John  Dudley,  duke  of 
Northumberland,  who  was  attainted  in  the  same  year,  and  by  queen  Mary  it 
was  again  annexed  to  St.  George's  chapel,  at  Windsor.  This  annexation  was 
confirmed  by  Elizabeth,  and  also  by  James  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his 
reign,  when  De  Dominis  was  dean.  In  the  eighth  of  Henry  VIII.,  the 
manor  and  lordship  of  Wolverhampton  were  leased  by  the  then  dean,  John 
Harman  (or  Vessey),  to  Richard  Wrottesley,  Esq.,  and  James  Leveson,  gent., 
at  the  rent  of  38/.,  and  it  has  ever  since  been  leased  at  the  same  rate.  In 
1801,  sir  William  Pulteney  was  the  lessee,  and  the  lease  now  belongs  to  his 
heirs.  Until  the  late  act  for  abolishing  peculiars,  the  collegiate  church  was 
subject  to  no  power  but  that  of  the  sovereign,  and,  under  it,  to  the  perpetual 
visitation  of  the  keeper  of  the  great  seal. 


288  BISHOP  HALL. 

patch,  the  dean  brought  him  forth  a  letter  from  the  prince, 
wherein  he  was  desired,  and  charged  to  reverse  his  former  engage- 
ment (since  that  other  chaplain  was  otherwise  provided  for)  and 
to  cast  that  favour  upon  me.  I  was  sent  for,  (who  least  thought 
of  it)  and  received  the  free  collation  of  that  poor  dignity.  It  was 
not  the  value  of  the  place,  (which  was  but  nineteen  nobles  per 
annum)  that  we  aimed  at,  but  the  freedom  of  a  goodly  church, 
(consisting  of  a  dean  and  eight  prebendaries  competently  endowed) 
and  many  thousand  souls  lamentably  swallowed  up  by  wilful 
recusants,  in  a  pretended  fee-farm8  for  ever, — O  God,  what  an 
hand  hadst  thou  in  the  carriage  of  this  work  !  when  we  set  foot 
in  this  suit  (for  another  of  the  prebendaries  joined  with  me)  we 
knew  not  wherein  to  insist,  nor  where  to  ground  a  complaint, 
only  we  knew  that  a  goodly  patrimony  was  by  sacrilegious  con- 
veyance detained  from  the  church.  But  in  the  pursuit  of  it  such 
marvellous  light  opened  itself  unexpectedly  to  us,  in  revealing  of 
a  counterfeit  zeal,  found  in  the  ashes  of  that  burned  house  of  a 
false  register ;  in  the  manifestation  of  rasures,  and  interpolations, 
and  misdates  of  unjustifiable  evidences,  that  after  many  years  suit, 
the  wise  and  honourable  lord  chancellor  Ellesmere 9  upon  a  full 
hearing,  adjudged  these  two  sued-for  prebends,  clearly  to  be 
returned  to  the  church,  untill  by  common  law,  they  could  (if  pos- 
sibly) be  revicted.  Our  great  adversary  sir  Walter  Leveson 10, 

8  A  pretended  fee-farm."]  "  The  farming  of  benefices  was  the  ordinary  prac- 
tice in  those  days,"  (Henry  VIII.)    ("  see  Fox,  Acts,  &c.  vol.  iii.  p.  167,)  and 
must  not  be  confounded  with  fee-farming,  which  seems  to  have  crept  in 
shortly  afterwards.     The  latter  system  is  explained  to  have  been  a  permanent 
arrangement,  or  commutation,  and  was  bitterly  inveighed  against  by  Latimer. 
This  plain-spoken  preacher  did  not  scruple  to  ascribe  it  to  the  machinations 
of  Satan,  '  What  an  unreasonable  devil  is  this  ?     He  provides  a  great  while 
beforehand  for  the  time  that  is  to  come.     He  hath  brought  up  now  of  late 
the  most  monstrous  kind  of  covetousness  that  ever  was  heard  of.     He  hath 
in  vented  fee-farming  of  benefices;  and  all  to  decay  this  office  of  preaching  ; 
insomuch  that  when  any  man  hereafter  shall  have  a  benefice,  he  may  go 
where  he  will  for  any  house  he  shall  have  to  dwell  upon,  or  any  glebe  land  to 
keep  hospitality  withal ;  but  he  must  take  up  a  chamber  in  an  ale-house,  and 
there  sit  to  play  at  tables  all  the  day. — A  goodly  curate  ! "      Sixth  Sermon 
before  king  Edward  VI.  1549.     Cranmer's  Rtmaina,  ed.  Jenkyns,  i.  57,  note. 

9  Lord  chancellor  Ellesmere.]  It  may  be  remarked  here,  that  this  judge's 
family  is  now  merged  in  that  of  the  defendant,  against  whom  bishop  Hall 
makes  such  strong  charges  :  Lord  Ellesmere's  very  title  is  now  revived  in  the 
person  of  a  lineal  descendant  of  sir  Walter  Leveson. 

10  Sir  Walter  Leveson.']  In  the  twelfth  year  of  his  reign,  James  I.  granted 
the  fee  of  the  hundred  of  Seiston,  in  Staffordshire,  to  sir  Walter  Leveson,  knt. 


BISHOP  HALL.  289 

finding  it  but  loss  and  trouble  to  struggle  for  litigious  sheaves, 
came  off  to  a  peaceable  composition  with  me  of  40£.  per  annum 
for  my  part,  whereof  ten  should  be  to  the  discharge  of  my  stall 
in  that  church,  till  the  suit  should  by  course  of  common  law  be 
determined.  We  agreed  upon  fair  wars.  The  cause  was  heard 
at  the  king's  bench  barr :  when  a  special  verdict  was  given  for 
us.  Upon  the  death  of  my  partner  in  the  suit,  (in  whose  name 
it  had  now  been  brought)  it  was  renewed  ;  a  jury  empannelled 
in  the  county ;  the  foreman  (who  had  vowed  he  would  carry  it 
for  sir  Walter  Leveson  howsoever)  was  before  the  day,  stricken 
mad,  and  so  continued  ;  we  proceeded  with  the  same  success  we 
formerly  had  ;  whilst  we  were  thus  striving,  a  word  fell  from  my 
adversary,  that  gave  me  intimation,  that  a  third  dog  would  per- 
haps come  in,  and  take  the  bone  from  us  both ;  which  I  finding 
to  drive  at  a  supposed  concealment  *,  happily  prevented,  for  I 

The  family  of  Leveson  had  acquired,  at  Wolverhampton,  great  riches  by  the 
wool  trade,  then  called  the  staple,  and  the  dealers  in  it  merchants.  At  the 
Reformation  church  lands  were  sold  at  a  small  price,  and  the  title  being  then 
precarious,  few  persons  were  willing  to  become  purchasers ;  but  the  family  of 
Leveson,  having  money  and  wishing  well  to  the  Reformation,  bought  many 
of  these  lands,  as  Trentham,  Lillishul,  &c.  In  queen  Anne's  time,  a  part  of 
the  estates  was  sold  by  another  Walter  Leveson,  to  Newport,  earl  of  Bradford, 
which  part  afterwards  passed  to  the  Pulteney  family.  One  of  the  Gowers  of 
Stittenham,  in  Yorkshire,  married  the  heiress  of  the  elder  branch  of  the 
Levesons,  took  the  name,  and  seated  himself  at  Trentham ;  from  him  the 
property  has  passed  to  his  descendant,  the  present  duke  of  Sutherland. 

1  A  supposed  concealment^]  "When  monasteries  were  dissolved,  and  the 
lands  thereof,  and  afterwards  colleges,  chaunteries  and  fraternities  were  all 
given  to  the  crown,  some  demesnes  here  and  there  pertaining  thereunto, 
were  still  privily  retained,  and  possessed  by  certain  private  persons,  or  corpo- 
rations, or  churches.  This  caused  the  queen  (Elizabeth]  when  she  under- 
stood it,  to  grant  commissions  to  some  persons  to  search  after  these  conceal- 
ments, and  to  retrieve  them  to  the  crown.  But  it  was  a  world  to  consider, 
what  unjust  oppressions  of  the  people,  and  the  poor,  this  occasioned  by 
some  griping  men  that  were  concerned  therein.  For  under  the  pretence  of 
executing  commissions  for  inquiry  to  be  made  for  these  lands  concealed,  they, 
by  colour  thereof,  and  without  colour  of  commission,  contrary  to  all  right, 
and  to  the  queen's  meaning  and  intent,  did  intermeddle  and  challenge  lands 
of  long  time  possessed  by  church  wardens,  and  such-like,  upon  the  cha- 
ritable gifts  of  predecessors,  to  the  common  benefit  of  the  parishes  .... 
Further  they  attempted  to  make  titles  to  lands,  possessions,  plate,  and  goods, 
belonging  to  hospitals,  and  such-like  places,  used  for  maintenance  of  poor 
people  ;  with  many  such  other  unlawful  attempts  and  extortions."  Strype's 
Annals  of  the  Reformation,  vol.  ii.  p.  209.  See  also  Strype's  Life  of  Parker, 
p.  368,  69.  405.  489. 

VOL. IV.  U 


290  BISHOP  HALL. 

presently  addressed  myself  to  his  majesty,  with  a  petition  for  the 
renewing  the  charter  of  that  church  ;  and  the  full  establishment 
of  the  lands,  rights,  liberties,  thereto  belonging :  which  I  easily 
obtained  from  those  gracious  hands.  Now  sir  Walter  Leveson, 
seeing  the  patrimony  of  the  church  so  fast  and  safely  settled :  and 
misdoubting  what  issue  those  his  crazy  evidences  would  find  at 
the  common  law,  began  to  incline  to  offers  of  peace,  and  at  last 
drew  him  so  far,  as  that  he  yielded  to  those  too  many  conditions, 
not  particularly  for  myself,  but  for  the  whole  body  of  all  those 
prebends  which  pertained  to  the  church ;  first  that  he  would  be 
content  to  cast  up  that  fee-farm,  which  he  had  of  all  the  patri- 
mony of  that  church,  and  disclaiming  it,  receive  that  which  he 
held  of  the  said  church  by  lease,  from  us  the  several  prebendaries, 
for  term,  whether  of  years,  or  (which  he  rather  desired)  of  lives. 
Secondly,  that  he  would  raise  the  maintenance  of  every  prebend, 
(whereof  some  were  but  forty  shillings,  others  three  pounds, 
others  four,  &c.)  to  the  yearly  value  of  thirty  pounds  to  each 
man,  during  the  said  term  of  his  lease :  only  for  a  monument  of 
my  labour  and  success  herein,  I  required  that  my  prebend  might 
have  the  addition  of  ten  pounds  per  annum,  above  the  fellows. 
We  were  busily  treating  this  happy  match  for  that  poor  church ; 
sir  Walter  Leveson  was  not  only  willing  but  forward ;  the  then 
dean  Mr.  Antonius  de  Dominis2,  archbishop  of  Spalata,  gave  both 
way  and  furtherance  to  the  dispatch ;  all  had  been  most  happily 
ended,  had  not  the  scrupulousness  of  one  or  two  of  the  number, 
deferred  so  advantageous  a  conclusion.  In  the  mean  while  sir 
Walter  Leveson  dies,  leaves  his  young  orphan  ward  to  the  king ; 
all  our  hopes  were  now  blown  up  :  an  office  was  found  of  all  those 
lands ;  the  very  wonted  payments  were  denied,  and  I  called  into 
the  court  of  wards,  in  fair  likelihood  to  forego  my  former  hold, 
and  yielded  possession  :  but  there,  it  was  justly  awarded  by  the 
lord  treasurer,  then  master  of  the  wards,  that  the  orphan  could 
have  no  more,  no  other  right  than  the  father.  I  was  therefore 
left  in  my  former  state,  only  upon  public  complaint  of  the  hard 
condition  wherein  the  orphan  was  left,  I  suffered  myself  to  be 
over-intreated,  to  abate  somewhat  of  that  evicted  composition  ; 
which  work  having  once  firmly  settled,  in  a  just  pity  of  the  mean 
provision,  if  not  the  destitution  of  so  many  thousand  souls,  and  a 

2  De  Dominis.]  See  p.  93,  ante.     He  was  dean  of  Windsor  from  1618  to 
1G22. 


BISHOP  HALL.  291 

desire,  and  care,  to  have  them  comfortably  provided  for  in  the 
future,  I  resigned  up  the  said  prebend  to  a  worthy  preacher, 
Mr.  Lee,  who  should  constantly  reside  there,  and  painfully 
instruct  that  great  and  long  neglected  people ;  which  he  hath 
hitherto  performed  with  great  mutual  contentment  and  happy 
success. 

Now  during  this  22  years  which  I  spent 3  at  Waltham  ;  thrice 

3  Which  I  spent.]  To  this  period  we  may  apply  an  interesting  account 
given  of  his  manner  of  spending  his  time,  in  a  letter  to  his  patron,  lord 
Denny. 

"Every  day  is  a  little  life;  and  our  whole  life  is  but  a  day  repeated: 
whence  it  is,  that  old  Jacob  numbers  his  life  by  days  ;  and  Moses  desires  to 
be  taught  this  point  of  holy  arithmetic,  '  to  number '  not  his  years,  but 
'  his  days.'  Those  therefore  that  dare  lose  a  day,  are  dangerously  prodigal ; 
those  that  dare  mispend  it,  desperate.  We  can  teach  others  by  ourselves  : 
let  me  tell  your  lordship  how  I  would  pass  my  days,  whether  common  or 
sacred;  and  that  you,  or  whosoever  others,  overhearing  me,  may  either 
approve  my  thriftiness,  or  correct  my  errors. 

"  When  sleep  is  rather  driven  away  than  leaves  me,  I  would  ever  awake 
with  God.  My  first  thoughts  are  for  him  :  if  my  heart  be  early  seasoned 
with  his  presence,  it  will  savour  of  him  all  day  after.  While  my  body  is 
dressing,  not  with  an  effeminate  curiosity,  nor  yet  with  rude  neglect,  my 
mind  addresses  itself  to  her  ensuing  task,  bethinking  what  is  to  be  done,  and 
in  what  order  ;  and  marshalling,  as  it  may,  my  hours  with  my  work.  That 
done,  after  some  meditation,  I  walk  up  to  my  masters  and  companions, — my 
books  ;  and  sitting  down  amongst  them,  with  the  best  contentment,  I  dare 
not  reach  forth  my  hand  to  salute  any  of  them  till  I  have  first  looked  up  to 
heaven,  and  craved  favour  of  him,  to  whom  all  my  studies  are  duly  referred ; 
without  whom,  I  can  neither  profit  nor  labour.  After  this,  out  of  no  over 
great  variety,  I  cull  forth  those,  which  may  best  fit  my  occasions :  wherein 
I  am  not  too  scrupulous  of  age.  Sometimes  I  put  myself  to  school  to  one 
of  those  ancients,  whom  the  church  hath  honoured  with  the  name  of  Fathers; 
whose  volumes,  I  confess  not  to  open,  without  a  secret  reverence  of  their 
holiness  and  sanctity :  sometimes,  to  those  later  doctors,  which  want  nothing 
but  age  to  make  them  classical :  always,  to  God's  Book.  That  day  is  lost, 
whereof  some  hours  are  not  improved  in  those  divine  monuments.  Others  I 
turn  over,  out  of  choice  ;  these  out  of  duty.  Ere  I  can  have  sat  unto  weari- 
ness, my  family,  having  now  overcome  all  household  distractions,  invites 
me  to  our  common  devotions ;  not  without  some  short  preparation.  These 
heartily  performed,  send  me  up  with  a  more  strong  and  cheerful  appetite 
to  my  former  work,  which  I  find  made  easy  to  me  by  intermission  and 
variety.  One  while  mine  eyes  are  busy;  another  while  my  hand;  and  some- 
times my  mind  takes  the  burthen  from  them  both.  One  hour  is  spent 
in  textual  divinity;  another  in  controversy;  histories  relieve  them  both. 
When  the  mind  is  weary  of  others'  labours,  it  begins  to  undertake  her  own. 

u  2 


292  BISHOP  HALL. 

was  I  commanded  and  employed  abroad  by  his  majesty  in  public 
service. 

First  in  the  attendance  of  the  right  honourable  earl  of  Carlile4, 
(then  lord  viscount  Doncaster)  who  was  sent  upon  a  noble 
embassy 5,  with  a  gallant  retinue  into  France  ;  whose  entertain- 
ment there,  the  annals  of  that  nation  will  tell  to  posterity.  In  the 
midst  of  that  service  was  I  surprized  with  a  miserable  distemper 
of  body ;  which  ended  in  a  diarrhoea  biliosa,  not  without  some 
beginnings  and  further  threats  of  a  dissentery  :  wherewith  I  was 
brought  so  low,  that  there  seemed  small  hope  of  my  recovery. 

Sometimes  it  meditates  and  winds  up  for  future  use ;  sometimes  it  lays  forth 
her  conceits  into  present  discourse:  sometimes  for  itself,  often  for  others. 
Neither  know  I  whether  it  works  or  plays  in  these  thoughts.  I  am  sure 
no  sport  hath  more  pleasure  ;  no  work  more  use  :  only  the  decay  of  a  weak 
body  makes  me  think  these  delights  insensibly  laborious.  Before  my  meals 
and  after,  I  let  myself  loose  from  all  thoughts,  and  would  forget  that  I  ever 
studied.  Company,  discourse,  recreations,  are  now  seasonable  and  welcome. 
I  rise  not  immediately  from  my  trencher  to  my  book,  but  after  some  inter- 
mission. After  my  later  meal,  my  thoughts  are  slight ;  only  my  memory 
may  be  charged  with  the  task  of  recalling  what  was  committed  to  her 
custody  in  the  day ;  and  my  heart  is  busy  in  examining  my  hands  and  mouth, 
and  all  other  senses,  of  that  day's  behaviour.  The  evening  is  come  :  no 
tradesman  doth  more  carefully  take  in  his  wares,  clear  his  shop-board,  and 
shut  his  windows,  than  I  would  shut  up  my  thoughts,  and  clear  my  mind. 
That  student  shall  live  miserably,  which,  like  a  camel,  lies  down  under  his 
burthen.  All  this  done,  calling  together  my  family,  we  end  the  day  with 
God. — Such  are  only  common  days. 

"  But  God's  day  calls  for  another  respect.  The  same  sun  arises  on  this  day, 
and  enlightens  it :  yet  because  that  Sun  of  Righteousness  arose  upon  it,  and 
gave  a  new  life  unto  the  world  in  it,  and  drew  the  strength  of  God's  moral 
precept  into  it ;  therefore,  justly  do  we  sing  with  the  psalmist,  This  is  the  day 
which  the  Lord  hath  made.  Now,  I  forget  the  world,  and  in  a  sort,  myself: 
and  deal,  with  my  wonted  thoughts,  as  great  men  use,  who,  at  some  times  of 
their  privacy,  forbid  the  access  of  all  suitors.  Prayer,  meditation,  reading, 
hearing,  preaching,  singing,  good  conference,  are  the  businesses  of  this  day ; 
which  I  dare  not  bestow  on  any  work  or  pleasure,  but  heavenly;  I  hate 
superstition  on  the  one  side,  and  looseness  on  the  other :  but  I  find  it  hard  to 
offend  in  too  much  devotion :  easy,  in  profaneness.  The  whole  week  is 
sanctified  by  this  day :  and  according  to  my  care  of  this,  is  my  blessing  on 
the  rest."  Works,  vol.  vii.  p.  254—6. 

4  Earl  of  Carlile.']  James  Hay.  He  was  grandson  of  Hall's  patron,  the 
earl  of  Norwich,  to  whose  barony  of  Denny  he  succeeded  in  1630.  This 
relationship  accounts  for  Lord  Carlisle's  patronage  of  Hall. 

'  A  noble  embassy.']  To  congratulate  Louis  XIII.  on  his  marriage  with 
Anne  of  Austria. 


BISHOP  HALL.  293 

Mr.  Peter  Moulin 6  (to  whom  I  was  beholden  for  his  frequent  visi- 
tations) being  sent  by  my  lord  ambassador,  to  inform  him  of  my 
estate,  brought  him  so  sad  news  thereof,  as  that  he  was  much 
afflicted  therewith,  well  supposing  his  welcome  to  Waltham  could 
not  but  want  much  of  the  heart  without  me.  Now  the  time  of 
his  return  drew  on,  Dr.  Moulin  kindly  offered  to  remove  me, 
upon  his  lordship's  departure,  to  his  own  house,  promising  me  all 
careful  attendance.  I  thanked  him,  but  resolved,  if  I  could  but 
creep  homewards  to  put  myself  upon  the  journey.  A  litter  was 
provided,  but  of  so  little  ease,  that  Simeon's  penitential  lodging, 
or  a  malefactor's  stocks,  had  been  less  penal.  I  crawled  down 
from  my  close  chamber  into  that  carriage,  In  qua  mdebaris  mi/ii 
efferri,  tanquam  in  sandapila,  as  Mr.  Moulin  wrote  to  me  after- 
ward ;  that  misery  had  I  endured  in  all  the  long  passage  from 
Paris  to  Dieppe,  being  left  alone  to  the  surly  muleteers,  had  not 
the  providence  of  my  good  God  brought  me  to  St.  Germains, 
upon  the  very  setting  out  of  those  coaches,  which  had  stayed 
there  upon  that  morning's  entertainment  of  my  lord  ambassador. 
How  glad  was  I  that  I  might  change  my  seat,  and  my  company. 
In  the  way,  beyond  all  expectation,  I  began  to  gather  some 
strength ;  whether  the  fresh  air,  or  the  desires  of  my  home 
revived  me,  so  much,  and  so  sudden  reparation  ensued,  as  was 
sensible  to  myself,  and  seemed  strange  to  others.  Being  shipped 
at  Dieppe  the  sea  used  us  hardly,  and  after  a  night,  and  a  great 
part  of  the  day  following,  sent  us  back  well  wind-beaten,  to  that 
bleak  haven  whence  we  set  forth,  forcing  us  to  a  more  pleasing 
land  passage,  through  the  coasts  of  Normandy  and  Picardy; 
towards  the  end  whereof,  my  former  complaint  returned  upon  me, 
and  landing  with  me,  accompanied  me  to,  and  at  my  long  desired 
home.  In  this  my  absence  it  pleased  his  majesty,  graciously,  to 
confer  upon  me  the  deanry  of  Worcester 7,  which  being  promised 
to  me  before  my  departure,  was  deeply  hazarded  whilst  I  was  out 
of  sight,  by  the  importunity  and  underhand  working  of  some 
great  ones.  Dr.  Field8,  the  learned  and  worthy  dean  of  Glocester, 
was  by  his  potent  friends  put  into  such  assurances  of  it,  that  I 

6  Peter  Moulin.']  Pierre  du  Moulin,  the  elder. 

7  Deanry  of  Worcester.']  In  the  year  16 16.     Le  Neve's  Fasti,  p.  310. 

8  Dr.  Field.']  Richard  Field,  appointed  dean  of  Gloucester  in  1609.     He 
died  21st  November,  1616.     It  is  sufficient  to  name  his  celebrated  work  "  Of 
the  Church,  four  books."  Fuller  calls  him  "  that  learned  divine,  whose  memory 
smelleth  like  a  Field  the  Lord  hath  blessed."     See  p.  101,  ante. 


294  BISHOP  HALL. 

heard  where  he  took  care  for  the  furnishing  that  ample  house. 
But  God  fetched  it  about  for  me,  in  that  absence  and  nescience 
of  mine  ;  and  that  reverend,  and  better  deserving  divine,  was  well 
satisfied  with  greater  hopes ;  and  soon  after  exchanged  this 
mortal  estate,  for  an  immortal  and  glorious. 

Before  I  could  go  down  through  my  continuing  weakness,  to 
take  possession  of  that  dignity,  his  majesty  pleased  to  design  me 
to  his  attendance  into  Scotland 9 ;  where  the  great  love,  and  re- 
spect that  I  found,  both  from  the  ministers  and  people,  wrought 
me  no  small  envy,  from  some  of  our  own.  Upon  a  commonly 
received  supposition,  that  his  majesty  would  have  no  further  use 
of  his  chaplains,  after  his  remove  from  Edinborough,  (for  as 
much  as  the  divines  of  the  country,  whereof  there  is  great  store 
and  worthy  choice,  were  allotted  to  every  station)  I  easily  ob- 
tained, through  the  solicitation  of  my  ever  honoured  lord  of  Car- 
lile,  to  return  with  him  before  my  fellows.  No  sooner  was  I  gone, 
than  suggestions  were  made  to  his  majesty  of  my  over  plausible 
demeanour  and  doctrine  to  that  already  prejudicate  people,  for 
which  his  majesty,  after  a  gracious  acknowledgment  of  my  good 
service  there  done,  called  me  upon  his  return  to  a  favourable  and 
mild  account ;  not  more  freely  professing  what  informations  had 
been  given  against  me,  than  his  own  full  satisfaction,  with  my 
sincere  and  just  answer;  as  whose  excellent  wisdom  well  saw 
that  such  winning  carriage  of  mine  could  be  no  hinderance  to 
those  his  great  designs.  At  the  same  time  his  majesty  having 
secret  notice,  that  a  letter  was  coming  to  me  from  Mr.  W. 
Struther,  a  reverend  and  learned  divine  of  Edinborough,  con- 
cerning the  five  points  *,  then  proposed,  and  urged  to  the  church 
of  Scotland,  was  pleased  to  impose  upon  me  an  earnest  charge, 
to  give  him  a  full  answer  in  satisfaction  to  those  his  modest 
doubts  ;  and  at  large  to  declare  my  judgment  concerning  those 
required  observations,  which  I  speedily  performed  with  so  great 

9  Into  Scotland.]  See  Heylin's  Life  of  Archbishop  Laud,  p.  73—5,  78—9. 

1  The  Jive  points.']  "  Afterwards  called  the  five  Articles  of  Perth.  The 
articles  at  large  are  to  be  found  in  the  histories  of  those  times :  but  in 
short  they  contained  (I)  the  kneeling  at  the  communion;  (2)  private  com- 
munion at  sick  people's  request;  (3)  private  Baptism;  (4)  confirmation  of 
children;  (5)  observation  of  festivals."  Memoirs  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
p.  162,  A.D.  1717.  See  also  Spotswood's  Hist,  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
fol.  539.  Heylin's  Life  of  Laud,  p.  78.  The  king's  design  in  these  mea- 
sures was  to  bring  the  church  of  Scotland  to  a  nearer  conformity  with  that  of 
England. 


BISHOP  HALL.  295 

approbation  of  his  majesty,  that  it  pleased  him  to  command  a 
transcript  thereof,  as  I  was  informed,  publicly  to  be  read  in  their 
most  famous  university :  the  effect  whereof  his  majesty  vouch- 
safed to  signifie  afterwards  unto  some  of  my  best  friends,  with 
allowance  beyond  my  hopes. 

It  was  not  long  after,  that  his  majesty  finding  the  exigence  of 
the  affairs  of  the  Netherlandish  churches  to  require  it,  both 
advised  them  to  a  synodical  decision,  and  by  his  incomparable 
wisdom  promoted  the  work.  My  unworthiness  was  named  for 
one  of  the  assistants  of  that  honourable  grave  and  reverend 
meeting,  where  I  failed  not  of  my  best  service  to  that  woefully 
distracted  church.  By  that  time  I  had  stayed  some  two  months 
there,  the  unquietness  of  the  nights,  in  those  garrison  towns, 
working  upon  the  tender  disposition  of  my  body,  brought  me  to 
such  weakness  through  want  of  rest,  that  it  began  to  disable  me 
from  attending  the  synod,  which  yet  as  I  might,  I  forced  myself 
unto  as  wishing  that  my  zeal  could  have  discountenanced  my 
infirmity  ;  wherein  the  mean  time,  it  is  well  worthy  of  my  thank- 
ful remembrance,  that  being  in  an  afflicted  and  languishing  con- 
dition, for  a  fortnight  together  with  that  sleepless  distemper,  yet 
it  pleased  God,  the  very  night  before  I  was  to  preach  the  Latin 
sermon 2  to  the  synod  to  bestow  upon  me  such  a  comfortable 
refreshing  of  sufficient  sleep,  as  whereby  my  spirits  were  revived, 
and  I  was  enabled  with  much  vigour  and  vivacity  to  perform  that 
service ;  which  was  no  sooner  done  than  my  former  complaint 
renewed  upon  me,  and  prevailed  against  all  the  remedies  that  the 
counsel  of  physicians  could  advise  me  unto ;  so  as  after  long 
strife,  I  was  compelled  to  yield  unto  a  retirement  (for  the  time) 
to  the  Hague,  to  see  if  change  of  place  and  more  careful  attend- 
ance, which  I  had  in  the  house  of  our  right  honourable  ambassa- 

2  The  Latin  sermon.']  See  Kale's  Golden  Remains,  p.  381,  &c.  The  best 
account  of  the  proceedings  of  this  far-famed  synod  of  Dort  may  be  found 
in  the  letters  of  the  ever-memorable  John  Hales  of  Eton  College,  printed  in 
his  Golden  Remains.  See  particularly  the  Latin  edition  of  those  letters, 
published  by  Mosheim  at  Hamburgh,  A.D.  1724.  The  Canons  of  this  synod 
are  inserted  in  the  Corpus  et  Syntagma  Confessionum ;  and  the  Acta  were 
printed  at  Leyden  1620  in  fol. :  see  also  Limborch's  Life  of  Episcopius, 
Fuller's  Church  Hist,  book  10,  p.  77—86.  Heylin's  Life  of  Laud,  p.  79,  &c. 
Heylin's  Hist,  of  the  Presbyterians,  p.  401,  &c.  Hickman's  Animadversions 
on  Dr.  Heylin,  p.  405 — 22.  The  magnificent  copy  of  the  Acta  Synodi  Dor- 
drechtensis  which  belonged  to  James  I.,  bound  in  crimson  velvet,  embroidered 
in  gold,  is  now  preserved  in  the  old  Royal  Library  in  the  British  Museum. 


296  BISHOP  HALL. 

dor,  the  lord  Carleton 3  (now  viscount  Dorchester)  might  recover 
me.  But  when  notwithstanding  all  means,  my  weakness  increased 
so  far,  as  that  there  was  small  likelihood  left  of  so  much  strength 
remaining,  as  might  bring  me  back  into  England,  it  pleased  his 
gracious  majesty  by  our  noble  ambassador's  solicitation,  to  call 
me  off,  and  to  substitute  a  worthy  divine  Mr.  Dr.  Goade  *  in  my 
unwillingly  forsaken  room.  Returning  by  Dort,  I  sent  in  my  sad 
farewel  to  that  grave  assembly,  who  by  common  vote  sent  to  me 
the  president  of  the  synod,  and  the  assistants,  with  a  respective 
and  gracious  valediction ;  neither  did  the  deputies  of  my  lords 
the  states  neglect  (after  a  very  respectful  compliment  sent  from 
them  to  me  by  Daniel  Heinsius)  to  visit  me ;  and  after  a  noble 
acknowledgment  of  more  good  service  from  me  than  I  durst  own, 
dismissed  me  with  an  honourable  retribution,  and  sent  after  me  a 
rich  medal  of  gold,  the  portraiture  of  the  synod,  for  a  precious 
monument  of  their  respects  to  my  poor  endeavours,  who  failed 
not  whilest  I  was  at  the  Hague,  to  impart  unto  them  my  poor 
advice  concerning  the  proceeding  of  that  synodical  meeting. 
The  difficulties  of  my  return  in  such  weakness  were  many  and 
great;  wherein,  if  ever,  God  manifested  his  special  providence 
to  me,  in  over-ruling  the  cross  accidents  of  that  passage,  and  after 
many  dangers  and  despairs,  contriving  my  safe  arrival. 

After  not  many  years  settling  at  home,  it  grieved  my  soul,  to 
see  our  own  church  begin  to  sicken  *  of  the  same  disease  which 
we  had  endeavoured  to  cure  in  our  neighbours.  Mr.  Montague's  * 
tart  and  vehement  assertions  of  some  positions,  near  of  kin  to 
the  Remonstrants  of  Netherland,  gave  occasion  of  raising  no 
small  broil  in  the  church.  Sides  were  taken,  pulpits  every  where 
rang  of  these  opinions ;  but  parliament  took  notice  of  the  divi- 
sion, and  questioned  the  occasioner.  Now  as  one  that  desired  to 

8  Lord  Carleton.']  Sir  Dudley  Carlton,  created  lord  Carlton  in  1628;  vis- 
count Dorchester,  25th  July,  1628.  He  died  in  1631. 

4  Mr.  Dr.  Goade.'}  Thomas  Goad,  S.T.P.,  chantor  of  St.  Paul's  in  London, 
prebendary  of  Hilton,  in  the  collegiate  church  of  Wolverhampton,  and  chap- 
lain to  archbishop  Abbot. 

*  Begin  to  sicken.']    See  Fuller's  Church  History,  book  10,  p.  119,  &c. 
Heylin's  Life  of  Laud,  p.  124 — 7.     Also  bishop  Hall's  Way  of  Peace  in  the 

five  busy  Articles  of  Arminius.     Parliamentary  Hist.  6,  7. 

*  Mr.  Montague's.]    Richard  Mountague,  or  Montagu,  who  was  not  con- 
nected with  the  noble  family  of  that  name,  was  the  son  of  Laurence  Mon- 
tague, minister  of  Dorney,  in  Buckinghamshire :  he  was  bishop  successively 
of  Chichester  in  1628,  and  of  Norwich  in  1638.     He  died  in  164 1. 


BISHOP  HALL.  297 

do  all  good  offices  to  our  dear  and  common  mother,  I  set  my 
thoughts  on  work,  how  so  dangerous  a  quarrel  might  be  happily 
composed ;  and  finding  that  mis-taking  was  more  guilty  of  this 
dissention  than  mis-believing ;  (since  it  plainly  appeared  to  me, 
that  Mr.  Montague  meant  to  express,  not  Arminius 7,  but  bishop 
Overall,  a  more  moderate  and  safe  author,  however  he  sped  in 
delivery  of  him ;)  I  wrote  a  little  project  of  pacification 8,  wherein 
I  desired  to  rectify  the  judgment  of  men,  concerning  this  misap- 
prehended controversy,  shewing  them  the  true  parties  in  this  un- 
seasonable plea;  and  because  bishop  Overall  went  a  midway, 

7  To  express,  not  Arminius^]  On  this  subject  Mountague  shall  best  speak  for 
himself.      It  would  be  well  if  his  wise  and  noble  sentiments  could  make 
their  due  impression  upon  many  shallow  controversialists  in  our  own  days. 

"  I  disavow  the  name  and  title  of  Arminian.  I  am  no  more  Arminian 
than  they  are  Gomarians ;  not  so  much  in  all  probability.  They  delight,  it 
seemeth,  to  be  called  after  men's  names ;  for  anon  they  stick  not  to  call 
themselves  Calvinists ;  which  title,  though  more  honourable  than  Gomarian 
or  Arminian,  I  am  not  so  fond  of,  or  doting  upon,  but  I  can  be  content  to 
leave  it  unto  those  that  affect  it,  and  hold  it  reputation  to  be  so  instiled.  I 
am  not,  nor  would  be  accounted  willingly  Arminian,  Calvinist,  or  Lutheran 
(names  of  division)  but  a  Christian.  For  my  faith  was  never  taught  by  the 
doctrine  of  men.  I  was  not  baptized  into  the  belief,  or  assumed  by  grace 
into  the  family  of  any  of  these,  or  of  the  pope.  I  will  not  pin  my  belief  unto 
any  man's  sleeve,  carry  he  his  head  ever  so  high ;  not  unto  St.  Augustin,  or 
any  ancient  father,  nedum  unto  men  of  lower  rank.  A  Christian  I  am,  and 
so  glory  to  be  j  only  denominated  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord  and  Master,  by 
whom  I  never  was  as  yet  so  wronged,  that  I  would  relinquish  willingly  that 
royal  title,  and  exchange  it  for  any  of  his  menial  servants.  And  further  yet 
I  do  profess,  that  I  see  no  reason  why  any  member  of  the  Church  of  England, 
a  church  every  way  so  transcendant  unto  that  of  Leyden  and  Geneva,  should 
lowt  so  low  as  to  denominate  himself  of  any  of  the  most  eminent  amongst 
them  .... 

"Again  for  Arminianism,  I  must  and  do  protest  before  God  and  his 
angels,  idque  in  verbo  sacerdotis,  the  time  is  yet  to  come  that  ever  I  read 
word  in  Arminius.  The  course  of  my  studies  was  never  addressed  to  modern 
epitomizers :  but  from  my  first  entrance  to  the  study  of  divinity,  I  balked 
the  ordinary  and  accustomed  by-paths  of  Bastingius's  Catechism,  Fenner's 
Divinity,  Bucanus'  Common  Places,  Trelcatius,  Polanus,  and  such-like ;  and 
betook  myself  to  Scripture  the  rule  of  faith,  interpreted  by  antiquity,  the 
best  expositor  of  faith,  and  applier  of  that  rule :  holding  it  a  point  of  dis- 
cretion, to  draw  water,  as  near  as  I  could  to  the  well-head,  and  to  spare 
labour  in  vain,  in  running  further  off,  to  cisterns  and  lakes.  I  went  to 
enquire,  when  doubt  was,  of  the  days  of  old,  as  God  himself  directed  me  :  and 
hitherto  I  have  not  repented  me  of  it."  Mountague's  Appello  Ctssarem,  p.  10. 

8  A  little  project  of  pacificationJ]  The  way  of  Peace  in  the  five  busy  articles 
commonly  known  by  the  name  of  Arminius. 


298  BISHOP  HALL. 

betwixt  the  two  opinions  which  he  held  extreme,  and  must  needs 
therefore  somewhat  differ  from  the  commonly-received  tenet  in 
these  points,  I  gathered  out  of  bishop  Overall  on  the  one  side, 
and  out  of  our  English  divines  at  Dort  on  the  other,  such  common 
propositions  concerning  these  five  busy  articles,  as  wherein  both 
of  them  are  fully  agreed ;  all  which  being  put  together,  seemed 
unto  me  to  make  up  so  sufficient  a  body  of  accorded  truth,  that 
all  other  questions  moved  hereabouts,  appeared  merely  super- 
fluous, and  every  moderate  Christian  might  find  where  to  rest 
himself,  without  hazard  of  contradiction.  These  I  made  bold  by 
the  hands  of  Dr.  Young9  the  worthy  dean  of  Winchester,  to 
present  to  his  excellent  majesty,  together  with  a  humble  motion  of 
a  peaceable  silence  to  be  enjoined  to  both  parts,  in  those  other 
collateral,  and  needless  disquisitions :  which  if  they  might  befit 
the  schools  of  academical  disputants,  could  not  certainly  sound 
well  from  the  pulpits  of  popular  auditories.  Those  reconciliatory 
papers  fell  under  the  eyes  of  some  grave  divines  on  both  parts. 
Mr.  Montague  professed  that  he  had  seen  them,  and  would 
subscribe  to  them  very  willingly;  others  that  were  contrarily 
minded,  both  English,  Scotish,  and  French  divines,  profered 
their  hands  to  a  no  less  ready  subscription ;  so  as  much  peace 
promised  to  result  out  of  that  weak  and  poor  enterprise,  had 
not  the  confused  noise  of  the  misconstructions  of  those  who 
never  saw  the  work,  (crying  it  down  for  the  very  name^s  sake) 
meeting  with  the  royal  edict  of  a  general  inhibition,  buried  it  in 
a  securfe  silence.  I  was  scorched  a  little  with  this  flame  which  I 
desired  to  quench;  yet  this  could  not  stay  my  hand  from 
thrusting  itself  into  an  hotter  fire. 

Some  insolent  Komanists  (Jesuits  especially)  in  their  bold  dis- 
putations (which  in  the  time  of  the  treaty  of  the  Spanish  match ', 
and  the  calm  of  that  relaxation  were  very  frequent,)  pressed 

•  Dr.  Young.]  John  Young,  installed  8th  July,  16 16. 

1  The  Spanish  match.]  "  We  have  little  news,  either  of  the  great  business, 
or  of  any  other,  though  messengers  come  weekly  out  of  Spain :  and  I  con- 
ceive that  matters  are  yet  very  doubtful.  The  new  chapel  for  the  Infanta 
goes  on  in  building,  and  our  London  papists  report  that  the  angels  descend 
every  niyht  and  build  part  of  it.  Here  hath  been  lately  a  conference  betwcn 
one  Fisher  a  jesuite  and  one  Sweete  on  the  one  side ;  and  Dr.  Whyte  and 
Dr.  Featly  on  the  other.  The  question  was  of  the  antiquity  and  succession  of 
the  Church.  It  is  said  we  shall  have  it  printed."  Sir  Henry  Bourgchier  to 
Abp.  Ussher,  then  bishop  of  Meath,  dated  July  U,  1623.  Ussher'sLi/e  and 
Letters,  p.  89.  See  also  Wren's  Parentalia,  p.  27. 


BISHOP  HALL.  299 

nothing  so  much,  as  a  catalogue  of  the  professors  of  our  religion 
to  be  deduced  from  the  primitive  times,  and  with  the  peremptory 
challenge  of  the  impossibility  of  this  pedigree  dazzled  the  eyes  of 
the  simple ;  whilst  some  of  our  learned  men 2,  undertaking  to 

2  Some  of  our  learned  men.']  The  question  which  the  priests  and  Jesuits 
continually  ingeminated  was,  "  Where  was  your  church  before  Luther  ? " 
Of  "  The  learned  men,"  of  whose  mode  of  reply  to  this  interrogatory  the 
bishop,  not  without  solid  reason,  expresses  his  disapprobation ;  two  I  appre- 
hend, were  persons  of  no  less  dignity  than  the  English  and  Irish  primates  of 
that  day  :  the  former,  Dr.  George  Abbot,  in  his  book  of  the  Visibility  of  the 
Church,  and  the  latter,  Dr.  James  Ussher,  in  his  De  Ecclesiarum  Christianarum 
successione  et  statu.  Abbot,  as  Dr.  Heylin  tells  us,  could  not  find  any  visi- 
bility of  the  Christian  church,  but  by  tracing  it,  as  well  as  he  could,  from  the 
Berengarians  to  the  Albigenses,  from  the  Albigenses  to  the  Wickliffists,  from 
the  Wickliffists  unto  the  Hussites,  and  from  the  Hussites  unto  Luther  and 
Calvin  (Life  of  Laud,  p.  53),  whereas  as  bishop  Hall  observes,  "Valdus, 
Wickliffe,  Luther,  did  never  go  about  to  frame  a  new  church,  which  was  not, 
but  to  cleanse,  restore,  reforme  that  church  which  was." 

"  Hence  may  be  answered  that  which  Rome  brings  as  her  Achilles, 
touching  the  succession  and  visibility  of  the  Protestants*  church  and  doc- 
trine in  all  ages  since  Christ :  for  if  theirs  (that  of  Rome)  have  had  such 
succession  and  visibility,  it  is  impossible  to  say  that  the  Protestants'  church 
has  not  had  them  also ;  the  former  (the  church  of  Rome)  only  adding  more 
articles  for  a  Christian  to  believe,  which  the  latter  will  not  embrace  as 
needful.  .  .  .  '  Protestants '  (says  Stapleton,  Fortress  of  Faith,  at  the  end  of 
Bede's  Hist.  fol.  47  b.)  'have  many  things  less  than  papists;  they  have 
taken  away  many  things  which  papists  had;  they  have  added  nothing.' 
And  here,  therefore,  to  my  understanding,  the  Romanists  require  of  us 
what  lies  on  their  part  to  prove.  For,  we,  denying,  in  the  succession  of 
bishops  from  Cranmer,  and  Warham,  even  to  Augustine,  and  so  of  the 
Britons,  ever  any  one  to  have  held  the  points  which  we  differ  in,  to  have 
been  points  of  faith,  in  that  degree  of  necessity  in  which  they  are  now 
required ;  and,  for  proof,  citing  not  only  the  Apostles',  Nicene,  and  Athana- 
sian  Creeds,  but  even  that  of  Peckham,  which  we  find  so  to  differ  from  that 
late  one,  set  out  by  Pius  IV. — as  we  cannot  but  say,  it  is  unjust  in  them  to 
press  us  to  a  profession  in  religion  further  than  our  ancestors  were  required ; 
so,  they  on  the  contrary,  affirming  all  those  holy  bishops  preceding,  not  only 
to  have  believed  those  articles  which  themselves  now  do,  but  also  that  they 
did  require  them  of  others  with  the  like  necessity  in  which  they  are  now 
required,  ought  certainly  to  prove  what  they  thus  boldly  affirm  :  which  when 
they  have  done,  truly  for  my  part  I  shall  think  fit  to  yield  ;  but  till  they  do 
it,  let  them  cease  from  proclaiming  us  heretics,  who  hold  no  other  than  the 
ancient  faith  at  first  delivered  unto  us. 

"  But  this,  as  a  point  rather  dogmatical  for  divines,  than  historical,  the 
subject  I  undertook,  I  shall  not  here  further  wade  into."  Twisden's  Histo- 
rical  Vindication,  p.  198. 


300  BISHOP  HALL. 

satisfy  so  needless  and  unjust  a  demand,  gave,  as  I  conceived, 
great  advantage  to  the  adversary.  In  a  just  indignation  to  see 
us  thus  wronged  by  mis-stating  the  question  betwixt  us,  as  if  we, 
yielding  ourselves  of  an  other  church,  originally  and  fundamentally 
different,  should  make  good  our  own  erection  upon  the  ruins, 
yea,  the  nullity  of  theirs,  and  well  considering  the  infinite  and 
great  inconveniences,  that  must  needs  follow  upon  this  defence 3, 
I  adventured  to  set  my  pen  on  work;  desiring  to  rectify  the 
opinions  of  those  men,  whom  an  ignorant  zeal  had  transported,  to 
the  prejudice  of  our  holy  cause,  laying  forth  the  damnable  cor- 
ruptions of  the  Roman  church,  yet  making  our  game  of  the  outward 
visibility  thereof,  and  by  this  means  putting  them  to  the  probation 
of  those  newly  obtruded  corruptions  which  are  truly  guilty  of  the 
breach  betwixt  us ;  the  drift  whereof,  being  not  well  conceived, 
by  some  spirits  *,  that  were  not  so  wise  as  fervent,  I  was  suddenly 
exposed  to  the  rash  censures  of  many  well  affected  and  zealous 
protestants,  as  if  I  had  in  a  remission  to  my  wonted  zeal  to  the 
truth  attributed  too  much  to  the  Roman  church,  and  strengthened 
the  adversaries  hands  and  weakened  our  own.  This  envy  I  was 

3  Upon  this  defence. ~\  The  bishop  here  alludes  to  the  practices  and  judg- 
ment of  Zanchius,  Perkins,  Whittaker,  &c.     See  The  Apologetical  Advertise- 
ment.    Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  49.  55.  part  2.  fol. 

4  By  some  spirits. .]  Sanderson,  afterwards  bishop  of  Lincoln,  in  that  part 
of  the  famous  Preface  to  his  Sermons,  bearing  date  July  13,  1657,  in  which 
he  shews  the  advantages  which  the  Puritan  writers  gave  to  the  Romish  party, 
by  the  unsoundness  of  their  reasonings,  and  their  extreme  intolerance ;  and 
the  much  greater  progress  which  popery  was  making  in  England  towards 
the  latter  end  of  the  commonwealth  through  their  incapacity,  than  it  had  ever 
done  before,  remarks  that  "They  promoted  the  interest  of  Rome  and  betrayed 
the  Protestant  Cause,  partly  by  mistaking  the  question  (a  very  common  fault 
among  them,)  but  especially  through  the  necessity  of  some  false  principle  or 
other,  which  having  once  imbibed,  they  think  themselves  bound  to  maintain. 
....  Among  those  false  principles^  it  shall  suffice  for  the  present  to  have 
named  but  this  one,  That  the  Church  with  Rome  is  no  true  Church.    The  dis- 
advantages of  which  assertion  to  our  cause  in  the  dispute  about  the  visibility 
of  the  church  (besides  the  falseness  and  uncharitableness  of  it)  their  zeal,  or 
prejudice  rather,  will  not  suffer  them  to  consider.    With  what  out-cries  was 
bishop  Hall,  good  man,  (who  little  dreamt  of  any  peace  with  Rome)  pursued 
by  Burton  and  other  hot-spurs,  for  yielding  it  a  church  !  who  had  made  the 
same  concession  over  and  over  again  before  he  was  bishop  (as  Junius,  Rey- 
nolds, and  our  best  controversy  writers  generally  do,)  and  no  notice  taken, 
no  noise  made  about  it."     P.  79,  edit.  1689.     Or,  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iv. 
p.  571. 


BISHOP  HALL.  301 

fain  to  take  off  by  my  speedy  "  Apologetical  Advertisement,"  and 
after  that  by  my  "  Reconciler 3,"  seconded  with  the  unanimous 
letters  of  such  reverend,  learned,  sound  divines 8,  both  bishops  and 
doctors,  as  whose  undoubtable  authority,  was  able  to  bear  down 
calumny  itself.  Which  done  I  did  by  a  seasonable  moderation 
provide  for  the  peace  of  the  church,  in  silencing  both  my  defendants 
and  challengers,  in  this  unkind  and  ill-raised  quarrel. 

Immediately  before  the  publishing  of  this  tractate,  (which  did 
not  a  little  aggravate  the  envy  and  suspicion)  I  was  by  his 
majesty  raised  to  the  bishopric  of  Exeter 7,  having  formerly  (with 
much  humble  deprecation)  refused  the  see  of  Gloucester  earnestly 
proffered  unto  me.  How  beyond  all  expectation  it  pleased  God 
to  place  me  in  that  western  charge ;  which  (if  the  duke  of 
Buckingham's  letters,  he  being  then  in  France 8,  had  arrived  but 
some  hours  sooner)  I  had  been  defeated  of ;  and  by  what  strange 
means  it  pleased  God  to  make  up  the  competency  of  that  pro- 
vision, by  the  unthought  of  addition  of  the  rectory  of  St.  Breok 
within  that  diocese,  if  I  should  fully  relate,  the  circumstances 
would  force  the  confession  of  an  extraordinary  hand  of  God  in 
the  disposing  of  those  events. 

I  entered  upon  that  place,  not  without  much  prejudice  and 
suspicion  on  some  hands ;  for  some  that  sate  at  the  stern  of  the 
church,  had  me  in  great  jealousy  for  too  much  favour9  of 
Puritanism.  I  soon  had  intelligence  who  were  set  over  me  for 
espials ;  my  ways  were  curiously  observed  and  scanned.  How- 
ever, I  took  the  resolution  to  follow  those  courses  which  might 
most  conduce  to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  my  new  and  weighty 
charge ;  finding  therefore  some  factious  spirits  very  busy  in  that 
diocese,  I  used  all  fair  and  gentle  means  to  win  them  to  good 
order ;  and  therein  so  happily  prevailed  that  (saving  two  of  that 
numerous  clergy,  who  continuing  in  their  refractoriness  fled  away 
from  censure,)  they  were  all  perfectly  reclaimed ;  so  as  I  had 
not  one  minister  professedly  opposite  to  the  anciently  received 
orders  (for  I  was  never  guilty  of  urging  any  new  impositions  *) 

6  My  "  Reconciler."]  See  Works,  vol.  ii.  part  2.  p.  57 — 99. 

6  Sound  divines.]  B.  Morton,  B.  Davenant,  Dr.  Prideaux,  Dr.  Primrose. 

7  The  bishopric   of  Exeter]    He  was   elected   Nov.  5,   and   consecrated 
Dec.  23,  1627. 

8  Then  in  France]  In  the  expedition  to  the  Isle  of  Rhe. 

9  Too  much  favour]    See  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  294.     Heylin's  Life  of  Laud, 
p.  54. 

1  Any  new  impositions]  Here  is  a  reflexion,  designed,  no  doubt,  to  point 


302  BISHOP  HALL. 

of  the  church  in  that  large  diocese.  Thus  we  went  on  com- 
fortably together,  till  some  persons  of  note  in  the  clergy,  being 
guilty  of  their  own  negligence  and  disorderly  courses,  began  to 
envy  our  success  ;  and  finding  me  ever  ready  to  encourage  those 
whom  I  found  conscionably  forward  and  painful  in  their  places, 
and  willingly  giving  way  to  orthodox  and  peaceable  lectures  in 
several  parts  of  my  diocese,  opened  their  mouths  against  me, 
both  obliquely  in  the  pulpit,  and  directly  at  the  court ;  complain- 
ing of  my  too  much  indulgence  to  persons  disaffected,  and  my 
too  much  liberty  of  frequent  lecturings  within  my  charge.  The 
billows  went  so  high  that  I  was  three  several  times  upon  my 
knee  to  his  majesty,  to  answer  these  great  criminations ;  and 
what  contestation  1  had  with  some  great  lords  concerning  these 
particulars,  it  would  be  too  long  to  report ;  only  this ;  under 
how  dark  a  cloud  I  was  hereupon,  I  was  so  sensible,  that  I 
plainly  told  the  lord  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  that  rather  than  I 
would  be  obnoxious  to  those  slanderous  tongues  of  his  misin- 
formers,  I  would  cast  up  my  rochet.  I  knew  I  went  right  ways, 
and  would  not  endure  to  live  under  undeserved  suspicions.  What 
messages  of  caution  I  had  from  some  of  my  wary  brethren,  and 
what  expostulatory  letters  I  had  from  above,  I  need  not  relate.  Sure 
I  am  I  had  peace,  and  comfort  at  home,  in  the  happy  sense  of  that 
general  unanimity,  and  loving  correspondence  of  my  clergy ;  till 
in  the  last  year  of  my  presiding  there,  after  the  synodical  oath  2 

against  archbishop  Laud.  It  may  be  but  fair  then,  to  see  what  the  arch- 
bishop had  to  say  for  himself  respecting  this  charge  of  imposition,  when  he 
had  the  opportunity  of  being  heard,  after  being  ^axed  for  it,  in  parliament, 
by  one  of  his  bitterest  adversaries. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  since  I  am  the  man  so  particularly  shot  at,  I  shall 
answer  for  myself  according  to  truth ; — and  with  truth  which  I  can  legally 
prove,  if  need  be.  I  have  not  commanded  or  enjoined  any  one  thing,  cere- 
monial, or  other,  upon  any  parochial  congregation  in  England,  much  less 
upon  all,  to  be  either  practised,  or  suffered,  but  that  which  is  directly  com- 
manded by  law.  And  if  any  inferior  ordinary  in  the  kingdom,  or  any  of  my 
own  officers  have  given  any  such  command,  it  is  either  without  my  know- 
ledge, or  against  my  direction.  And  it  is  well  known,  I  have  sharply  chid 
some  for  this  very  particular.  And  if  my  lord  "  (lord  Say)  "  would  have 
acquainted  me  with  any  such  troubled  thoughts  of  his,  I  would  have  given 
him,  so  far  as  had  been  in  my  power,  either  satisfaction  or  remedy."  Laud's 
Answer  to  Lord  Say's  Speech.  Troubles,  fyc.  p.  499. 

2  The  synodical  oath.']  The  oath  contained  in  the  sixth  canon  of  1640, 
called  also  the  etcetera  oath,  the  object  of  which  was  to  declare  an  approba- 
tion of  the  doctrine  and  discipline  of  the  church  of  England,  as  containing 


BISHOP  HALL.  303 

was  set  on  foot,  (which  yet  I  did  never  tender  to  any  one 
minister  of  my  diocese)  by  the  incitation  of  some  busy  inter- 
lopers of  the  neighbour  county,  some  of  them  began  to  enter 
into  an  unkind  contestation  with  me,  about  the  election  of  clerks 
of  the  convocation  ;  whom  they  secretly,  without  ever  acquainting 
me  with  their  desire  or  purpose  (as  driving  to  that  end  which  we 
see  now  accomplished)  would  needs  nominate  and  set  up  in  com- 
petition to  those,  whom  I  had  (after  the  usual  form)  recommended 
to  them.  That  they  had  a  right  to  free  voices  in  that  choice,  I 
denied  not ;  only  I  had  reason  to  take  it  unkindly,  that  they 
would  work  underhand  without  me,  and  against  me  ;  professing 
that  if  they  had  before  hand  made  their  desires  known  to  me,  I 
should  willingly  have  gone  along  with  them  in  their  election.  It 
came  to  the  poll.  Those  of  my  nomination  carried  it.  The 
parliament  began.  After  some  hard  tugging  there,  returning 
home  upon  a  recess  I  was  met  on  the  way,  and  cheerfully 
welcomed  with  some  hundreds.  In  no  worse  terms,  I  left  that 
my  once  dear  diocese  :  when  returning  to  Westminster,  I  was 
soon  called  by  his  majesty  (who  was  then  in  the  north)  to  a  remove 
to  Norwich 3 :  but  how  I  took  the  Tower  in  my  way ;  and  how 
I  have  been  dealt  with  since  my  repair  hither,  I  could  be  lavish 
in  the  sad  report,  ever  desiring  my  good  God  to  enlarge  my  heart 
in  thankfulness  to  him,  for  the  sensible  experience  I  have  had 
of  his  fatherly  hand  over  me,  in  the  deepest  of  all  my  afflictions, 
and  to  strengthen  me,  for  whatsoever  other  trials  he  shah1  be 
pleased  to  call  me  unto  ;  that  being  found  faithful  unto  the 
death,  I  may  obtain  that  crown  of  life,  which  he  hath  ordained 
for  all  those  that  overcome. 

all  things  necessary  to  salvation,  "  and  an  avowal  to  maintain  it  against  both 
papists  and  puritans.  But  nothing  raised  so  much  noise  and  clamour  as  the 
oath  required  by  the  sixth  canon ;  exclaimed  against  both  from  the  pulpit 
and  the  press ;  reproached  in  printed  pamphlets,  and  unprinted  scribbles ; 
and  glad  they  were  to  find  such  an  excellent  advantage,  as  the  discovering  of 
an  Sfc.  in  the  body  of  it  did  unhappily  give  them."  Heylin's  Life  of  Laud, 
p.  443.  The  clause  in  which  this  unhappy  oversight  occurred,  (for  it  was 
probably  nothing  more)  stood  thus  :  "  Nor  will  I  ever  give  my  consent  to 
alter  the  government  of  this  church  by  archbishops,  bishops,  deans  and 
archdeacons,  &c.  as  it  stands  now  established,  and  as  by  right  it  ought  to 
stand ;  nor  yet  ever  to  subject  it  to  the  usurpations  and  superstitions  of  the 
see  of  Rome."  Sparrow's  Canons,  &c.  p.  359,  A.D.  IC75. 

3  To  a  remove  to  Norwich.']  He  was  elected,  November  15,  1641. 


304  BISHOP  HALL. 


BISHOP  HALL'S  HARD  MEASURE. 

NOTHING  could  be  more  plain,  than  that  upon  the  call  of  this 
parliament l,  and  before,  there  was  a  general  plot  and  resolution 
of  the  faction  to  alter  the  government  of  the  church  especially. 
The  height  and  insolency  of  some  church-governors,  as  was  con- 
ceived, and  the  ungrounded  imposition  of  some  innovations  *  upon 
the  churches  both  of  Scotland  and  England,  gave  a  fit  hint  to 
the  project.  In  the  vacancy  therefore  before  the  summons,  and 
immediately  after  it,  there  was  great  working 3  secretly  for  the 
designation  and  election  as  of  knights  and  burgesses,  so  especially 
(beyond  all  former  use)  of  the  clerks  of  convocation  ;  when  now 
the  clergy  were  stirred  up  to  contest  with,  and  oppose  their  dio- 
cesans, for  the  choice  of  such  men  as  were  most  inclined  to  the 
favour  of  an  alteration.  The  parliament  was  no  sooner  set,  than 
many  vehement  speeches  were  made  against  established  church- 
government,  and  enforcement  of  extirpation  both  root  and  branch. 
And  because  it  was  not  fit  to  set  upon  all  at  once,  the  resolution 
was  to  begin  with  those  bishops  which  had  subscribed  to  the 
canons  *  then  lately  published  upon  the  shutting  up  of  the  former 
parliament ;  whom  they  would  first  have  had  accused  of  treason  ; 

1  This  parliament."]  The  Long  Parliament,  according  to  the  name  which  it 
afterwards  earned  to  itself.  It  began  Nov.  3,  16 10. 

3  Innovations.']  See  Heylin's  Life  of  Laud,  p.  443—5,  edit.  1671 ;  and  Hist, 
of  Nonconformity,  p.  345,  or  Baxter's  Life,  &c.  p.  369. 

3  There  was  great  working.]  "  I  was  indeed  sorry  to  hear,  with  what  par- 
tiality and  popular  heat  elections  were  carried  on  in  many  places ;  yet  hoping 
that  the  gravity  and  discretion  of  other  gentlemen  would  allay  and  fix  the 
commons  in  a  due  temperament,  guiding  some  men's  well-meaning  zeal  by 
such  rules  of  moderation  as  are  best  both  to  preserve  and  restore  the  health 
of  all  states  and  kingdoms, — no  man  was  better  pleased  with  the  convening 
of  this  parliament  than  myself;  who  knowing  best  the  largeness  of  my  own 
heart  towards  my  people's  good  and  just  contentment,  pleased  myself  most 
in  that  good  and  firm  understanding,  which  would  hence  grow  between  me 
and  my  people." — Jc6n  Easilike ;  the  Portraiture  of  his  sacred  Majesty  in  his 
Solitudes  and  Sufferings,  chap.  i. 

4  To  the  canons.']    Viz.  of  1640.     See  Sparrow's  Collection  of  Articles,  In- 
junctions, Canons,  &c.  p.  335—74. 


BISHOP  HALL.  305 

but  that  not  appearing  feasible,  they  thought  best  to  indite  them s 
of  very  high  crimes  and  offences  against  the  king,  the  parliament, 

5  To  indite  them.']  On  the  llth  March,  1640-1,  the  commons  resolved 
"  that  for  bishops  or  any  other  clergyman  whatsoever  to  be  in  the  commission 
of  the  peace,  or  to  have  any  judicial  power  in  the  star-chamber,  or  in  any 
civil  court,  is  a  hindrance  to  their  spiritual  function,  prejudicial  to  the  com- 
monwealth, and  fit  to  be  taken  away;"  and,  on  the  1st  of  May  following,  a 
bill  to  that  effect  passed  the  commons,  and  was  sent  up  to  the  lords,  where  it 
was  read  a  first  time.  On  that  day,  bishop  Hall  (Exeter)  delivered  the  fol- 
lowing admirable  speech,  which  is  preserved  in  his  Works,  vol.  x.  p.  70-2, 
and  in  the  Parliamentary  History. 

"  My  lords, 

"This  is  the  strangest  bill  that  I  ever  heard  of,  since  I  was  admitted  to 
sit  under  this  roof:  for  it  strikes  at  the  very  fabric  and  composition  of  this 
house ;  at  the  stile  of  all  laws  ;  and  therefore,  were  it  not  that  it  comes  from 
such  a  recommendation,  it  would  not,  I  suppose,  undergo  any  long  consider- 
ation :  but,  coming  to  us  from  such  hands,  it  cannot  but  be  worthy  of  your 
best  thoughts. 

"  And,  truly,  for  the  main  scope  of  the  bill,  I  shall  yield  it  most  willingly, 
that  ecclesiastical  and  sacred  persons  should  not  ordinarily  be  taken  up  with 
secular  affairs.  The  minister  is  called  vir  Dei,  a  man  of  God  :  he  may  not 
be  vir  seculi.  He  may  lend  himself  to  them,  upon  occasion :  he  may  not 
give  himself  over  purposely  to  them.  Shortly,  he  may  not  50  attend  worldly 
things,  as  that  he  do  neglect  divine  things.  This  we  gladly  yield.  Matters 
of  justice,  therefore,  are  not  proper,  as  an  ordinary  trade,  for  our  function  ; 
and,  by  my  consent,  shall  be,  as  in  a  generality,  waved  and  deserted  :  which, 
for  my  part,  I  never  have  meddled  with,  but  in  a  charitable  way ;  with  no 
profit,  but  some  charge  to  myself,  whereof  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  eased.  Trac- 
tentfabriliafabri  j  as  the  old  word  is. 

"  But  if  any  man  shall  hence  think  fit  to  infer  that  some  spiritual  person 
may  not  occasionally  be  in  a  special  service  of  his  king  or  country ;  and, 
when  he  is  so  required  by  his  prince,  give  his  advice  in  the  urgent  affairs  of 
the  kingdom,  which  I  suppose  is  the  main  point  driven  at;  it  is  such  an 
inconsequence,  as  I  dare  boldly  say  cannot  be  made  good,  either  by  divinity 
or  reason  ;  by  the  laws  either  of  God  or  man  :  whereas  the  contrary  may  be 
proved  and  enforced  by  both. 

"  As  for  the  grounds  of  this  bill,  that  the  minister's  duty  is  so  great,  that 
it  is  able  to  take  up  the  whole  man,  and  the  apostle  saith,  Tu;  iKavog ;  who  is 
sufficient  for  these  things  ?  and  that  he,  who  warfares  to  God  should  not  entangle 
himself  with  this  world ;  it  is  a  sufficient  and  just  conviction  of  those,  who 
would  divide  themselves  betwixt  God  and  the  world,  and  bestow  any  main 
part  of  their  time  upon  secular  affairs  :  but  it  hath  no  operation  at  all  upon 
this  tenet,  which  we  have  in  hand  •  that  a  man  dedicate  to  God,  may  not  so 
much  as,  when  he  is  required,  cast  a  glance  of  his  eye,  or  some  minutes  of 
time,  or  some  motives  of  his  tongue,  upon  the  public  business  of  his  king 
and  country.  Those  that  expect  this  from  us,  may  as  well,  and  upon  the 
same  reason,  hold  that  a  minister  must  have  no  family  at  all ;  or,  if  he  have 

VOL.   IV.  X 


306  BISHOP  HALL. 

and  kingdom,  which  was  prosecuted  with  great  earnestness  bysome 
prime  lawyers  in  the  house  of  commons,  and  entertained  with  like 

one,  must  not  care  for  it :  yea,  that  he  must  have  no  body  to  tend,  but  be  all 
tpirit. 

"  My  lords,  we  are  men  of  the  same  composition  with  others ;  and  our 
breeding  hath  been  accordingly.  We  cannot  have  lived  in  the  world,  without 
having  seen  it,  and  observed  it  too  :  and  our  long  experience  and  conversa- 
tion, both  in  men  and  in  books,  cannot  but  have  put  something  into  us  for 
the  good  of  others :  and  now,  having  a  double  capacity,  qua  cites,  qua  eccle- 
siastici,  as  members  of  the  commonwealth,  as  ministers  and  governors  of  the 
church ;  we  are  ready  to  do  our  best  service  in  both.  One  of  them  is  no  way 
incompatible  with  the  other :  yea,  the  subjects  of  them  both  are  so  united 
with  the  church  and  commonwealth,  that  they  cannot  be  severed :  yea  so,  as 
that,  not  the  one  is  in  the  other,  but  the  one  is  the  other,  is  both  :  so  as  the 
services  which  we  do  upon  these  occasions  to  the  commonwealth,  are  insepa- 
rable from  our  good  offices  to  the  church  :  so  that,  upon  this  ground,  there  is 
no  reason  of  our  exclusion 

"  But,  I  fear  it  is  not  on  some  hands,  the  tender  regard  of  the  full  scope 
of  our  calling,  that  is  so  much  here  stood  upon,  as  the  conceit  of  too  much 
honour,  that  is  done  us,  in  taking  up  the  room  of  peers,  and  voting  in  this 
high  court :  for  surely,  those  that  are  averse  from  our  votes,  yet  could  be 
content,  we  should  have  place  upon  the  woolsacks ;  and  could  allow  us  ears, 
but  not  tongues. 

"  If  this  be  the  matter,  I  beseech  your  lordships  to  consider  that  this 
honour  is  not  done  to  us,  but  to  our  profession  ;  which  whatever  we  be  in  our 
several  persons,  cannot  easily  be  capable  of  too  much  respect  from  your  lord- 
ships. Non  tibi,  sed  Isidi ;  as  he  said  of  old. 

"  Neither  is  this  any  new  grace,  that  is  put  upon  our  calling ;  which,  if  it 
were  now  to  begin,  might  perhaps  be  justly  grudged  to  our  unworthiness : 
but  it  is  an  ancient  right  and  inheritance,  inherent  in  our  station  :  no  less 
ancient  than  these  walls,  wherein  we  sit :  yea,  more  :  before  ever  there  were 
parliaments,  in  the  magna  concilia  of  the  kingdom  we  had  our  places.  And 
as  for  my  own  predecessors,  ever  since  the  Conqueror's  time  I  can  shew  your 
lordships  a  just  catalogue  of  them,  that  have  sat  before  me  here :  and,  truly, 
though  I  have  just  cause  to  be  mean  in  mine  own  eyes,  yet  why,  or  wherein, 
there  should  be  more  unworthiness  in  me  than  the  rest,  that  I  should  be 
stripped  of  that  privilege  which  they  so  long  enjoyed,  though  there  were  no 
law  to  hold  me  here,  I  cannot  see  or  confess. 

"  What  respects  of  honour  have  been  put  upon  the  prime  clergy  of  old, 
both  by  Pagans,  and  Jews,  and  Christians,  and  what  are  still  both  within 
Christendom  and  without,  I  shall  not  need  to  urge :  it  is  enough  to  say,  this 
of  ours  is  not  merely  arbitrary;  but  stands  so  firmly  established  by  law  and 
custom,  that  I  hope  it  neither  will  nor  can  be  removed,  except  you  will  shake 
those  foundations,  which  1  believe  you  desire  to  hold  firm  and  inviolable. 

-hortly,  then,  my  lords,  the  church  craves  no  new  honour  from  you: 
and  justly  hopes  you  will  not  be  guilty  of  pulling  down  the  old.  As  you  are 
the  eldest  sons,  and  next  under  his  majesty,  the  honourable  patrons  of  the 


BISHOP  HALL.  307 

fervency  by  some  zealous  lords  in  the  house  of  peers  ;  every  of 
those  particular  canons  being  pressed  to  the  most  envious  and 
dangerous  height  that  was  possible :  the  archbishop  of  York 6, 
aggravating  Mr.  Maynard's  criminations  to  the  utmost,  not  with- 
out some  interspersions  of  his  own.  The  counsel  of  the  accused 
bishops  gave  in  such  a  demurring  answer  as  stopped  the  mouth 
of  that  heinous  indictment. 

When  this  prevailed  not,  it  was  contrived  to  draw  petitions 
accusatory  from  many  parts  of  the  kingdom  against  episcopal 

church  ;  so  she  expects  and  beseeches  you  to  receive  her  into  your  tenderest 
care ;  so  to  order  her  affairs,  that  you  leave  her  to  posterity  in  no  worse  case 
than  you  found  her. 

"  It  is  a  true  word  of  Damasus,  Ubi  mlescit  nomen  episcopi,  omnis  status 
perturbatur  ecclesies.  If  this  be  suffered,  the  misery  will  be  the  church's  :  the 
dishonour  and  blur  of  the  act  in  future  ages  will  be  yours. 

"  To  shut  up,  therefore,  let  us  be  taken  off  from  all  ordinary  trade  of 
secular  employments :  and,  if  you  please,  abridge  us  of  intermeddling  with 
matters  of  common  justice  :  but  leave  us  possessed  of  those  places  and  pri- 
vileges in  parliament,  which  our  predecessors  have  so  long  and  peaceably 
enjoyed." 

On  the  14th  of  May  the  bill  was  read  a  second  time  in  the  lords,  and  the 
bishops  were  zealously  defended  by  Robert  Pierrepont,  viscount  Newark  (and 
earl  of  Kingston),  whose  speech  is  given  by  Fuller.  On  the  24th  the  bill 
was  in  committee,  when  the  bishop  of  Lincoln  (John  Williams)  spoke  at 
great  length  against  it,  lord  Say  and  Sele  in  its  favour,  and  lord  Newark 
again  spoke  on  behalf  of  the  bishops.  On  the  27th  the  lords  desired  a  con- 
ference with  the  commons,  and  on  the  same  day  sir  Edward  Dering  brought 
into  the  commons  a  bill  for  the  utter  abolishing  of  bishops,  deans,  pre- 
bendaries, &c.  &c.,  and  the  second  reading  was  carried  at  once  by  139  to  108. 
On  the  3rd  and  4th  of  June  further  conferences  took  place  between  the  two 
houses,  and  on  the  3rd  of  July  an  impeachment  was  ordered.  Accordingly, 
on  the  3rd  of  August,  sergeant  Wylde,  M.P.  for  Worcestershire,  presented 
articles  of  impeachment  against  the  following  bishops  : 

Walter  Curie,  Winchester.  Matthew  Wren,  Ely. 

Robert  Wright,  Coventry  and  Lick-        William  Roberts,  Bangor. 
field.  Robert  Skinner,  Bristol. 

Godfrey  Goodman,  Gloucester.  John  Warner,  Rochester. 

JOSEPH  HALL,  Exeter.  John  Towers,  Peterborough. 

John  Owen,  St.  Asaph.  Morgan  Owen,  Llandaff. 

William  Pierce,  Bath  and  Wells.  William  Laud,  Canterbury. 

George  Coke,  Hereford. 

On  the  26th  of  October  another  conference  took  place,  and  on  the  10th  of 
November  the  impeached  bishops  put  in  their  plea. 

6  Archbishop  of  York.~\  Meaning  John  Williams,  who,  however,  at  this 
time,  was  only  bishop  of  Lincoln :  he  was  not  translated  to  York  till  the  4th 
of  December  following. 

x  2 


308  BISHOP  HALL. 

government,  and  the  promoters  of  the  petitions  were  entertained 
with  great  respects ;  whereas  the  many  petitions  of  the  opposite 
part,  though  subscribed  with  many  thousand  hands,  were  slighted 
and  disregarded.  Withal,  the  rabble  of  London,  after  their  peti- 
tions cunningly  and  upon  other  pretences  procured,  were  stirred 
up  to  come  to  the  houses  personally  to  crave  justice  both  against 
the  earl  of  Strafford  first,  and  then  against  the  archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  lastly  against  the  whole  order  of  bishops ;  which 
coming  at  first  unarmed  were  checked  by  some  well-willers,  and 
easily  persuaded  to  gird  on  their  rusty  swords,  and  so  accoutered 
came  by  thousands 7  to  the  houses,  filling  all  the  outer  rooms, 
offering  foul  abuses  to  the  bishops  as  they  passed,  crying  out,  no 
bishops,  no  bishops;  and  at  last,  after  divers  days  assembling, 
grown  to  that  height  of  fury,  that  many  of  them,  whereof  sir 
Richard  Wiseman  professed  (though  to  his  cost 8)  to  be  captain, 
came  with  resolution  of  some  violent  courses,  insomuch  that  many 
swords  were  drawn  hereupon  at  Westminster,  and  the  rout  did 
not  stick  openly  to  profess  that  they  would  pull  the  bishops  in 
pieces.  Messages  were  sent  down  to  them  from  the  lords.  They 
still  held  firm  both  to  the  place  and  their  bloody  resolutions.  It  now 
grew  to  be  torch-light.  One  of  the  lords,  the  marquis  of  Hertford 9, 
came  up  to  the  bishops1  form,  told  us  that  we  were  in  great  danger, 
advised  us  to  take  some  course  for  our  own  safety,  and  being  desired 
to  tell  us  what  he  thought  was  the  best  way,  counselled  us  to  con- 
tinue in  the  parliament  house  all  that  night ;  "  for  "  (saith  he) 
"  these  people  vow  they  will  watch  you  at  your  going  out  and  will 
search  every  coach  for  you  with  torches,  so  as  you  cannot  escape." 
Hereupon  the  house  of  lords  was  moved  for  some  order  for  the 

7  Came  by  thousands.']  Compare  Ic6n  Basilike,  chap.  iv.    Upon  the  Insolency 
of  the  Tumults. 

8  To  his  co*/.]    It  was  on  the  28th  December,  1641,  that  this  disturbance 
took  place.     An  attempt  was  made  to  force  the  abbey,  where  the  regalia,  an 
object  of  plunder,  were  kept.     The  servants  of  the  archbishop  of  York,  who 
was  still  for  the  time  dean  of  Westminster,  drew  their  swords,  and  defended 
the  church  and  its  contents.     Some  mounted  the  roof,  and  threw  down  mis- 
siles on  the  assailants ;  the  following  statement  by  Baxter  is  very  remark- 
able : — "  Sir    Richard   Wiseman    leading  them  [the  apprentices  and  other 
rabble  assailants]  there  was  some  fray  about  Westminster  Abbey  between  the 
cavaliers  and  them,  and  sir  Richard  Wiseman  was  slain  by  a  stone  from  off  the 
abbey  walls." — Baxter's  Life  and  Times,  p.  27. 

9  Marquis  of  Hertford.]  William  Seymour,  created  marquis  of  Hertford  in 
1640  (afterwards,  in  1CCO,  restored  as  duke  of  Somerset);  who,  when  young, 
had  married  lady  Arabella  Stuart;  see  p.  15,  ante. 


BISHOP  HALL.  309 

preventing  their  mutinous  and  riotous  meetings.  Messages  were 
sent  down  to  the  house  of  commons  to  this  purpose  more  than 
once.  Nothing  was  effected  :  but  for  the  present  (for  so  much 
as  all  the  danger  was  at  the  rising  of  the  house)  it  was  earnestly 
desired  of  the  lords  that  some  care  might  be  taken  of  our  safety. 
The  motion  was  received  by  some  lords  with  a  smile.  Some  other 
lords,  as  the  earl  of  Manchester  *,  undertook  the  protection  of  the 
archbishop  of  York  and  his  company  (whose  shelter  I  went  under) 
to  their  lodgings ;  the  rest,  some  of  them  by  their  long  stay, 
others  by  secret  and  far-fetched  passages  escaped  home. 

It  was  not  for  us  to  venture  any  more  to  the  house  without 
some  better  assurance.  Upon  our  resolved  forbearance,  there- 
fore, the  archbishop  of  York  sent  for  us  to  his  lodging  at  West- 
minster ;  lays  before  us  the  perilous  condition  we  were  in :  ad- 
vises for  remedy  (except  we  meant  utterly  to  abandon  our  right, 
and  to  desert  our  station  in  parliament)  to  petition  both  his 
majesty  and  the  parliament,  that  since  we  were  legally  called  by 
his  majesty's  writ  to  give  our  attendance  in  parliament,  we  might 
be  secured  in  the  performance  of  our  duty  and  service  against 
those  dangers  that  threatened  us ;  and  withal  to  protest  against 3 
any  such  acts  as  should  be  made  during  the  time  of  our  forced 
absence ;  for  which  he  assured  us  there  were  many  precedents  in 

1  Earl  of  Manchester.']    Henry  Montagu,  first  earl  of  Manchester,  Lord 
Privy  Seal.     He  died  November  7,  1642.     His  son  was  the  well-known  par- 
liamentarian general, 

2  To  protest  against.']  The  protest  was  presented  on  the  30th  of  December, 
1641.     It  was  signed  by 

John     Williams,     Archbishop     of        William  Pierce,  Bath  and  Wells. 

York.  John  Coke,  Hereford. 

Thomas  Morton,  Durham.  Matthew  Wren,  Ely. 

Joseph  Hall,  Norwich.  Robert  Skinner,  Oxford. 

Robert  Wright,  Coventry  and  Lich-        George  Goodwin,  Gloucester, 
field.  John  Warner,  Peterborough. 

John  Owen,  St.  Asaph.  Morgan  Owen,  Llandaff. 

At  this  time  five  sees  were  vacant,  viz. — 

Worcester,  by  the  death  of  John  Thornborough. 
Lincoln,  by  the  translation  of  Williams  to  York. 
Exeter,  „  „  Hall  to  Norwich. 

Bristol,        „  „  Skinner  to  Oxford. 

Chichester,  „  „  Duppa  to  Sarum. 

And  on  the  day  of  the  protest  a  motion  was  made  that  they  should  not  be 
filled  up. 


310  BISHOP  HALL. 

former  parliaments,  and  which  if  we  did  not,  we  should  betray  the 
trust  committed  to  us  by  his  majesty,  and  shamefully  betray  and 
abdicate  the  due  right 3  both  of  ourselves  and  successors.  To  this 
purpose  in  our  presence  he  drew  up  the  said  petition  and  protes- 
tation, avowing  it  to  be  legal,  just  and  agreeable  to  all  former 
proceedings  ;  and  being  fair  written  sent  it  to  our  several  lodgings 
for  our  hands ;  which  we  accordingly  subscribed,  intending  yet  to 
have  had  some  further  consultation  concerning  the  delivering  and 
whole  carriage  of  it.  But  ere  we  could  suppose  it  to  be  in  any 
hand  but  his  own,  the  first  news  we  heard  was,  that  there  were 
messengers  addressed  to  fetch  us  into  the  parliament  upon  an 
accusation  of  high  treason.  For  whereas  this  paper  was  to  have 
been  delivered,  first  to  his  majesty's  secretary,  and  after  perusal 

3  The  due  right.']  "  This  is  on  the  hypothesis,  that  there  are  three  estates, 
lords  spiritual  and  temporal,  and  commons.  Two  of  them  sit  in  one 
house,  and  (together]  compose  one  body;  the  third  sit  in  one  house,  and 
compose  another  body.  The  lords  spiritual  are  excluded :  they  remonstrate, 
and  say  a  force  being  put  upon  a  part  of  the  body,  the  acts  of  the  other  part 
are  void.  This  is  good  reasoning,  on  the  hypothesis :  but  the  hypothesis  is 
false.  The  bishops  do  not  make  a  third  estate,  but  are  part  of  the  general 
baronage  which  composes  the  house  of  lords." — Warburton's  Remarks  on 
Neal's  Hist,  of  the  Puritans;  Works,  vol.  xii.  p.  393,  4. 

This,  no  doubt,  is  correct,  according  to  the  views  and  language  of  one 
class  of  constitutional  writers  :  but  the  authorities  are  quite  as  numerous, 
and  perhaps  (to  say  the  least)  quite  of  as  much  value,  which  speak  of  the 
king  as  the  head,  and  of  three  other  distinct  estates  in  parliament,  (viz.  lords 
spiritual,  lords  temporal,  and  commons),  as  constituting  the  body  of  the 
realm. 

Thus  Lord  Coke,  Institutes,  vol.  iv.  cap.  1.  "The  court  of  parliament  con- 
sisteth  of  the  king's  majesty,  sitting  there  as  in  his  royal  politic  capacity,  and 
of  the  three  estates  of  the  realm  :  one  of  which,"  he  adds,  "  represents  all  the 
commons  of  the  whole  realm."  Secondly,  we  may  take  the  title  of  the  form 
of  prayer  in  the  liturgy,  "  to  be  used  yearly  upon  the  fifth  day  of  November ; 
for  the  happy  deliverance  of  King  James  I  and  the  three  estates  of  England." 
Thirdly,  the  conjoint  authority  in  one,  of  the  lord  keeper  Pickering,  and  the 
lord  treasurer  Burghley  (A.D.  1 593).  "  Therefore,"  says  the  latter,  addressing 
the  house  of  peers,  "  as  was  delivered  by  the  lord  keeper,  her  majesty  hath 
summarily  imparted  the  same  to  this  assembly,  referring  the  consideration 
thereof  to  the  whole  three  estates,  whereof  two  are  in  this  place." — Cobbett'a 
Parl.  Hist.,  vol.  i.  p.  806.  These  may  suffice  as  a  specimen.  It  would  be 
easy  to  cite  a  great  many  more.  I  will  not  however  omit  to  mention  that  the 
whole  question  has  been  admirably  discussed  on  all  its  grounds  of  authority 
and  reason  by  bishop  Stillingfleet,  in  his  Ecclesiastical  Cases,  vol.  ii.  pp.  373 
—410. 


BISHOP  HALL.  311 

by  him  to  his  majesty,  and  after  from  his  majesty  to  the  parlia- 
ment, and  for  that  purpose  to  the  lord  keeper,  the  lord  Littleton  *, 
who  was  the  speaker  of  the  house  of  peers  ;  all  these  professed 
not  to  have  perused  it  at  all,  but  the  said  lord  keeper,  willing  enough 
to  take  this  advantage  of  ingratiating  himself  with  the  house  of 
commons  and  the  faction,  to  which  he  knew  himself  sufficiently 
obnoxious,  finding  what  use  might  be  made  of  it  by  prejudicate 
minds,  reads  the  same  openly  in  the  house  of  the  lords  :  and  when 
he  found  some  of  the  faction  apprehensive  enough  of  misconstruc- 
tion, aggravates  the  matter  as  highly  offensive,  and  of  dangerous 
consequence  ;  and  thereupon  not  without  much  heat  and  vehe- 
mence, and  with  an  ill  preface,  it  is  sent  down  to  the  house  of 
commons ;  where  it  was  entertained  hainously,  Glynne  with  a  full 
mouth  crying  it  up  for  no  less  than  an  high  treason  ;  and  some 
comparing,  yea  preferring  it  to  the  powder  plot. 

We  poor  souls  (who  little  thought  that  we  had  done  any  thing 
that  might  deserve  a  chiding)  are  now  called  to  our  knees  at  the 
bar  and  charged  severally  with  high  treason,  being  not  a  little 
astonished  at  the  suddenness  of  this  crimination,  compared  with 
the  perfect  innocence  of  our  own  intentions,  which  were  only  to 
bring  us  to  our  due  places  in  parliament  with  safety  and  speed 
without  the  least  purpose  of  any  man's  offence.  But  now  traitors 
we  are  in  all  the  haste,  and  must  be  dealt  with  accordingly.  For 
on  January 5  30,  in  all  the  extremity  of  frost,  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  dark  evening,  are  we  voted  to  the  Tower  ;  only  two  of  our 
number 6  had  the  favour  of  the  Black  Rod  by  reason  of  their  age ; 
which  though  desired  by  a  noble  lord  on  my  behalf,  would  not  be 
yielded,  wherein  I  acknowledge,  and  bless  the  gracious  providence 
of  God ;  for  had  I  been  gratified,  I  had  been  undone  both  in 
body  and  purse ;  the  rooms  being  strait,  and  the  expence  beyond 
the  reach  of  my  estate.  The  news  of  this  our  crime  and  impri- 

4  Lord  Littleton.']  Sir  Edward  Lyttleton,  descended  from  Thomas  Lyttleton, 
the  youngest  son  of  Sir  Thomas  Lyttleton,  the  celebrated  judge,  and  author  of 
the  "Tenures."     He  was  created  Lord  Lyttleton  of  Mounslow,  February  18, 
1640.     His  title  became  extinct  at  his  death  in  1645.     The  present  lord 
Lyttleton  (or  Lyttelton)  is  descended  from  sir  William  Lyttleton,  the  eldest 
son  of  the  judge. 

5  January  ]  An  error,  probably  of  a  transcriber,  for  December :  it  will  have 
been  seen  that  the  committal  took  place  on  December  30,  and  that  bishop 
Hall's  letter  from  the  Tower  is  dated  January  24. 

6  Two  of  our  number.']  Morton,  of  Durham,  and  Wright,  of  Coventry  and 
Lichfield. 


312  BISHOP  HALL. 

sonment  soon  flew  over  the  city,  and  was  entertained  by  our  well- 
willers  with  ringing  of  bells  and  bonfires ;  who  now  gave  us  up 
(not  without  great  triumph)  for  lost  men,  railing  on  our  perfi- 
diousness,  and  adjudging  us  to  what  foul  deaths  they  pleased. 
And  what  scurrile  and  malicious  pamphlets  were  scattered  abroad 
throughout  the  kingdom,  and  in  foreign  parts,  blazoning  our  in- 
famy and  exaggerating  our  treasonable  practices  !  what  insulta- 
tions  of  our  adversaries  was  here  ! 


[A    LETTER7    SENT    FROM    THE    TOWER    TO    A    PRIVATE    FRIEND; 
AND    BY    HIM    THOUGHT    FIT    TO    BE    PUBLISHED. 

"  To  my  much  respected  good  friend,  Mr.  H.  S. 

"  Worthy  Sir, 

"  You  think  it  strange,  that  I  should  salute  you  from  hence ; 
how  can  you  choose,  when  I  do  yet  still  wonder  to  see  myself 
here  ?  My  intentions,  and  this  place  are  such  strangers  that  I 
cannot  enough  marvel  how  they  met.  But,  howsoever,  I  do  in 
all  humility  kiss  the  rod  wherewith  I  smart,  as  well  knowing 
whose  hand  it  is  that  wields  it.  To  that  infinite  justice  who  can 
be  innocent?  but  to  my  king  and  country  never  heart  was  or 
can  be  more  clear ;  and  I  shall  beshrew  my  hand  if  it  shall  have 
(against  my  thoughts)  justly  offended  either ;  and  if  either  say 
so,  I  reply  not ;  as  having  learned  not  to  contest  with  those  that 
can  command  legions. 

u  In  the  mean  time  it  is  a  kind,  but  cold  compliment,  that 
you  pity  me ;  an  affection  well  placed  where  a  man  deserves  to 
be  miserable ;  for  me  I  am  not  conscious  of  such  merit.  You 
tell  me  in  what  fair  terms  I  stood  not  long  since  with  the  world ; 
how  large  room  I  had  in  the  hearts  of  the  best  men :  but  can 
you  tell  me  how  I  lost  it  ?  Truly  I  have  in  the  presence  of  God 
narrowly  searched  my  own  bosom ;  I  have  unpartially  ransacked 
this  fag-end  of  my  life,  and  curiously  examined  every  step  of  my 
ways,  and  I  cannot  by  the  most  exact  scrutiny  of  my  saddest 
thoughts,  find  what  it  is  that  I  have  done  to  forfeit  that  good 
estimation  wherewith  you  say  I  was  once  blessed. 

"  I  can  secretly  arraign  and  condemn  myself  of  infinite  trans- 

1  A  letter.']  This  letter  is  now  inserted  according  to  its  date.  In 
Mr.  Pratt's  edition  of  Bishop  Hall  it  is  prefixed  to  the  Hard  Measure. 


BISHOP  HALL.  313 

gressions  before  the  tribunal  of  heaven.  Who  that  dwells  in  a 
house  of  clay  can  be  pure  in  his  sight,  who  charged  his  angels 
with  folly  ?  0  !  God,  when  I  look  upon  the  reckonings  betwixt 
thee  and  my  soul,  and  find  my  shameful  arrears,  I  can  be  most 
vile  in  my  own  sight,  because  I  have  deserved  to  be  so  in  thine ; 
yet  even  then,  in  thy  most  pure  eyes,  give  me  leave  the  whiles, 
not  to  abdicate  my  sincerity.  Thou  knowest  my  heart  desires  to 
be  right  with  thee,  whatever  my  failings  may  have  been  ;  and  I 
know  what  value  thou  puttest  upon  those  sincere  desires,  not- 
withstanding all  the  intermixtures  of  our  miserable  infirmities. 
These  I  can  penitently  bewail  to  thee ;  but  in  the  mean  time, 
what  have  I  done  to  men  ?  Let  them  not  spare  to  shame  me 
with  the  late  sinful  declinations  of  my  age ;  and  fetch  blushes 
(if  they  can)  from  a  wrinkled  face. 

"  Let  mine  enemies  (for  such  I  perceive  I  have,  and  those  are 
the  surest  monitors)  say  what  I  have  offended.  For  their  better 
irritation,  my  conscience  bids  me  boldly  to  take  up  the  challenge 
of  good  Samuel,  '  Behold  here  I  am,  witness  against  me  before  the 
Lord,  and  before  his  anointed :  Whose  oxe  have  I  taken  ?  or  whose 
ass  have  I  taken  ?  or  whom  have  I  defrauded  ?  whom  have  I 
oppressed?  or  of  whose  hand  have  I  received  any  bribe  to  blind 
mine  eyes  therewith  ?  and  I  will  restore  it  to  you.'' 

"  Can  they  say,  that  I  bore  up  the  reins  of  government  too 
hard,  and  exercised  my  jurisdiction  in  a  rigorous  and  tyrannical 
way,  insolently  lording  it  over  my  charge  ? — Malice  itself,  perhaps, 
would,  but  dare  not  speak  it ;  or  if  it  should,  the  attestation  of 
so  numerous  and  grave  a  clergy  would  choak  such  impudence. 
Let  them  witness,  whether  they  were  not  still  entertained,  with  an 
equal  return  of  reverence,  as  if  they  had  been  all  bishops  with 
me,  or  I  only  a  presbyter  with  them ;  according  to  the  old  rule 
of  Egbert  archbishop  of  York,  Infra  domum,  episcopus  collegam 
se  presbyterorum  esse  cognoscat.  Let  them  say  whether  aught  here 
looked  like  despotical ;  or  sounded  rather  of  imperious  command, 
than  of  brotherly  complying ;  whether  I  have  not  rather  from 
some  beholders  undergone  the  censure  of  a  too  humble  remissness, 
as,  perhaps,  stooping  too  low  beneath  the  eminence  of  episcopal 
dignity ;  whether  I  have  not  suffered  as  much  in  some  opinions, 
for  the  winning  mildness  of  my  administration,  as  some  others  for 
a  rough  severity  ? 

"  Can  they  say  (for  this  aspersion  is  likewise  common)  that  I 
barred  the  free  course  of  religious  exercises,  by  the  suppression  of 


314  BISHOP  HALL. 

painful  and  peaceable  preachers  ? — If  shame  will  suffer  any  man 
to  object  it,  let  me  challenge  him  to  instance  but  in  one  name. 
Nay  the  contrary  is  so  famously  known  in  the  western  parts,  that 
every  mouth  will  herein  justify  me.  What  free  admission  and 
encouragement,  have  I  always  given  to  all  the  sons  of  peace,  that 
came  with  God's  message  in  their  mouths?  What  mis-sug- 
gestions have  I  waved !  What  blows  have  I  borne  off  in  the 
behalf  of  some  of  them,  from  some  gain-sayers  ?  How  have  I 
often  and  publicly  professed,  that  as  well  might  we  complain  of 
too  many  stars  in  the  sky,  as  too  many  orthodox  preachers  in  the 
church  ? 

"  Can  they  complain,  that  I  fretted  the  necks  of  my  clergy, 
with  the  uneasy  yoke  of  new  and  illegal  impositions  ? — Let  them 
whom  I  have  thus  hurt  blazon  my  unjust  severity,  and  write  their 
wrongs  in  marble ;  but  if,  disliking  all  novel  devices,  I  have  held 
close  to  those  ancient  rules  which  limited  the  audience  of  our 
godly  predecessors ;  if  I  have  grated  upon  no  man's  conscience 
by  the  pressure  (no  not  by  the  tender)  of  the  late  oath 8,  or  any 
unprescribed  ceremony ;  if  I  have  freely  in  the  committee,  ap- 
pointed by  the  honourable  house  of  peers,  declared  my  open 
dislike  in  all  innovations,  both  in  doctrine  and  rites ; — why  doth 
my  innocence  suffer  ? 

"  Can  they  challenge  me  as  a  close  and  backstair  friend  to 
Popery  or  Arminianism,  who  have  in  so  many  pulpits,  and  so 
many  presses,  cried  down  both. — Surely  the  very  paper  that  I 
have  spent  in  the  refutation  of  both  these,  is  enough  to  stop  more 
mouths  than  can  be  guilty  of  this  calumny. 

u  Can  they  check  me  with  a  lazy  silence  in  my  place,  with  in- 
frequence  of  preaching  ? — Let  all  the  populous  auditories  where  I 
have  lived  witness,  whether  having  furnished  all  the  churches  near 
me  with  able  preachers,  I  took  not  all  opportunities  of  supplying 
such  courses  as  I  could  get  in  my  cathedral,  and  when  my  tongue 
was  silent,  let  the  world  say  whether  my  hand  were  idle. 

"  Lastly,  since  no  man  can  offer  to  upbraid  me  with  too  much 
pomp,  which  is  wont  to  be  the  common  eye-sore  of  our  envinl 
profession  ;  can  any  man  pretend  to  a  ground  of  taxing  me  (as  I 
perceive  one  of  late  hath  most  unjustly  done)  of  too  much  world- 
lint  .>3  ? 

"  Surely  of  all  the  vices  forbidden  in  the  decalogue,  there  is  no 
8  The  tale  oathJ]  The  etcetera  oath.    See  note  above,  p.  302. 


BISHOP  HALL.  315 

one  which  my  heart  upon  due  examination  can  less  fasten  upon 
me  than  this.  He  that  made  it,  knows,  that  he  hath  put  into  it 
a  true  disregard  (save  only  for  necessary  use)  of  the  world,  and  all 
that  it  can  boast  of,  whether  for  profit,  pleasure,  or  glory.  No, 
no ;  I  know  the  world  too  well  to  doat  upon  it.  Whilst  I  am  in 
it,  how  can  I  but  use  it  ?  but  I  never  care,  never  yield  to  enjoy  it. 
It  were  too  great  a  shame  for  a  philosopher,  a  Christian,  a  divine, 
a  bishop,  to  have  his  thoughts  groveling  here  upon  earth ;  for 
mine,  they  scorn  the  employment,  and  look  upon  all  these  sublu- 
nary distractions  (as  upon  this  man's  false  censure)  with  no  other 
eyes  than  contempt. 

"  And  now,  sir,  since  I  cannot  (how  secretly  faulty  soever) 
guess  at  my  own  public  exorbitances,  I  beseech  you,  where  you 
hear  my  name  traduced,  learn  of  my  accusers  (whose  lyncean  eyes 
would  seem  to  see  farther  into  me  than  my  own)  what  singular 
offence  I  have  committed. 

"  If,  perhaps,  my  calling  be  my  crime  ;  it  is  no  other  than  the 
most  holy  fathers  of  the  church  in  the  primitive  and  succeeding 
ages,  ever  since  the  apostles,  (many  of  them  also  blessed  martyrs) 
have  been  guilty  of:  it  is  no  other  than  all  the  holy  doctors  of  the 
church  in  all  generations  ever  since  have  celebrated,  as  most 
reverend,  sacred,  inviolable  :  it  is  no  other  than  all  the  whole 
Christian  world,  excepting  one  small  handful  of  our  neighbours 
(whose  condition  denied  them 9  the  opportunity  of  this  govern- 
ment) is  known  to  enjoy  without  contradiction. — How  safe  is  it 
erring  in  such  company  ! 

"  If  my  offence  be  in  my  pen,  which  hath  (as  it  could)  under- 
taken the  defence l  of  that  apostolical  institution  (though  with  all 
modesty  and  fair  respects  to  the  churches  differing  from  us)  I 
cannot  deprecate  a  truth  :  and  such  I  know  this  to  be  :  which  is 
since  so  cleared  by  better  hands 2,  that  I  well  hope  the  better 
informed  world  cannot  but  sit  down  convinced ;  neither  doubt  I 
but  that  as  metals  receive  the  more  lustre  with  often  rubbing,  this 
truth,  the  more  agitation  it  undergoes,  shall  appear  every  day 
more  glorious.  Only,  may  the  good  Spirit  of  the  Almighty  speedily 

9  Condition  denied  them.']  See  Hooker's  Preface,  chap.  ii.  §  4,  or  Christian 
Institutes,  vol.  iv.  p.  369. 

1  Undertaken  the  defence.]  viz.  in  his  Episcopacy  by  divine  right,  asserted  ; 
the  Humble  Remonstrance  ;  Defence  of  the  Humble  Remonstrance  ;  Answer  to 
Smectymnus,  &c.  Works,  vol.  ix.  8vo. 

2  By  better  hands]  Dr.  Hammond,  archbishop  Ussher,  &c. 


316  BISHOP  HALL. 

dispel  all  those  dusky  prejudices  from  the  minds  of  men,  which 
may  hinder  them  from  discerning  so  clear  a  light ! 

"  Shortly  then,  knowing  nothing  by  myself,  whereby  I  have 
deserved  to  alienate  any  good  heart  from  me,  I  shall  resolve  to 
rest  securely  upon  the  acquitting  testimony  of  a  good  conscience, 
and  the  secret  approbation  of  my  gracious  God  ;  who  shall  one  day 
cause  mine  innocence  to  break  forth  as  the  morning  light,  and  shall 
give  me  beauty  for  bonds ;  and  for  a  light  and  momentaiy  afflic- 
tion, an  eternal  weight  of  glory. — To  shut  up  all,  and  to  surcease 
your  trouble ;  I  write  not  this,  as  one  that  would  pump  for  favour 
and  reputation  from  the  disaffected  multitude  (for  I  charge  you, 
that  what  passes  privately  betwixt  us,  may  not  fall  under  common 
eyes)  but  only  with  this  desire  and  intention,  to  give  you  true 
grounds,  where  you  shall  hear  my  name  mentioned  with  a  cause- 
less offence,  to  yield  me  a  just  and  charitable  vindication.  Go 
you  on  still  to  do  the  office  of  a  true  friend,  yea,  the  duty  of  a 
just  man ;  in  speaking  in  the  cause  of  the  dumb,  in  righting  the 
innocent,  in  rectifying  the  misguided ;  and  lastly,  the  service  of  a 
faithful  and  Christian  patriot,  in  helping  the  times  with  the  best 
of  your  prayers ;  which  is  the  daily  task  of  your  much  devoted 
and  thankful  friend, 

"  Jos.  NORVIC." 

From  the  Tower, 
Jan.  24,  1641'.] 


Being  caged  *  sure  enough  in  the  Tower,  the  faction  had  now 
fair  opportunities  to  work  their  own  designs.  They  therefore 
taking  the  advantage  of  our  restraint,  renew  the  bill  of  theirs, 
(which  had  been  twice  before  rejected  since  the  beginning  of 
this  session)  for  taking  away  the  votes  of  bishops 5  in  parliament, 

»  1641.]  That  is,  1641-2. 

4  Being  caged.']  On  January  17,  1641-2,  the  twelve  bishops  had  sent  in 
their  answer  to  the  charges  against  them. 

6  The  votes  of  bishops.']  "  How  oft  was  the  business  of  the  bishops'  enjoying 
their  ancient  places  and  undoubted  privileges  in  the  house  of  peers  carried 
for  them  by  far  the  major  part  of  the  lords !  Yet,  after  five  repulses,  con- 
trary to  all  order  and  custom,  it  was  by  tumultuary  instigations  obtruded 
again,  and  by  a  few  carried  when  most  of  the  peers  were  forced  to  absent 
themselves."— Icdn  Basilike,  chap.  ix.  Upon  the  listing  and  raising  armies 
against  the  king. 


BISHOP  HALL.  317 

and  in  a  very  thin  house  easily  passed  it :  which  once  conde- 
scended unto,  Iknownot  by  what  strong  importunity 6,  his  majesty's 
assent 7  was  drawn  from  him  thereunto.  We  now,  instead  of 
looking  after  our  wonted  honour  must  bend  our  thoughts  upon 
the  guarding  of  our  lives,  which  were  with  no  small  eagerness, 
pursued  by  the  violent  agents  of  the  faction.  Their  sharpest  wits 
and  greatest  lawyers  were  employed  to  advance  our  impeachment 
to  the  height ;  but  the  more  they  looked  into  the  business,  the 
less  crime  could  they  find  to  fasten  upon  us :  insomuch  as  one  of 
their  oracles,  being  demanded  his  judgment  concerning  the  fact, 
professed  to  them,  they  might  with  as  good  reason  accuse  us  of 
adultery.  Yet  still  there  are  we  fast,  only  upon  petition  to  the 
lords  obtaining  this  favour,  that  we  might  have  counsel  assigned 
us ;  which  after  much  reluctation,  many  menaces  from  the  com- 
mons, against  any  man  of  all  the  commoners  of  England  that 
should  dare  to  be  seen  to  plead  in  this  case  against  the  represen- 
tative body  of  the  commons,  was  granted  us.  The  lords  assigned 
us  five  very  worthy  lawyers,  which  were  nominated  to  them  by  us. 
What  trouble  and  charge  it  was  to  procure  those  eminent  and 
much  employed  counsellors  to  come  to  the  Tower  to  us,  and  to 
observe  the  strict  laws  of  the  place,  for  the  time  of  their  ingress, 
regress,  and  stay,  it  is  not  hard  to  judge.  After  we  had  lien 
some  weeks  there,  however,  the  house  of  commons,  upon  the  first 
tender  of  our  impeachment  had  desired  we  might  be  brought  to 
a  speedy  trial,  yet  now  finding  belike  how  little  ground  they  had 
for  so  high  an  accusation,  they  began  to  slack  their  pace,  and 
suffered  us  rather  to  languish  under  the  fear  of  so  dreadful 
arraignment.  In  so  much  as  now  we  are  fain  to  petition  the 
lords  that  we  might  be  brought  to  our  trial.  The  day  was  set ; 
several  summons  were  sent  unto  us  :  the  lieutenant  had  his  war- 
rant to  bring  us  to  the  bar;  our  impeachment  was  severally 
read  ;  we  pleaded  not  guilty,  modo  et  forma,  and  desired  speedy 
proceedings,  which  were  accordingly  promised,  but  not  too  hastily 
performed.  After  long  expectation,  another  day  was  appointed 
for  the  prosecution  of  this  high  charge.  The  lieutenant  brought 
us  again  to  the  bar  ;  but  with  what  shoutings  and  exclamations 

6  Strong  importunity^]  This  proceeded  from  the  ill-advised  judgment  of 
some  of  the  king's  most  confidential  friends,  and   from  the  queen. — See 
Clarendon's  History  of  the  Rebellion,  b.  iv. 

7  Assent.']  The  king  gave  his  assent  to  the  bill  on  February  14,  1641-2. 


318  BISHOP  HALL. 

and  furious  expressions  of  the  enraged  multitudes,  it  is  not  easy 
to  apprehend.  Being  thither  brought  and  severally  charged 
upon  our  knees,  and  having  given  our  negative  answers  to  every 
particular,  two  bishops,  London  and  Winchester8,  were  called  in 
as  witnesses  against  us,  as  in  that  point,  whether  they  appre- 
hended any  such  case  of  fears  in  the  tumults  assembled,  as  that  we 
were  in  any  danger  of  our  lives  in  coming  to  the  parliament ; 
who  seemed  to  incline  to  a  favourable  report  of  the  perils  threat- 
ened, though  one  of  them  was  convinced  out  of  his  own  mouth, 
from  the  relations  himself  had  made  at  the  archbishop  of  York's 
lodging.  After  this  Wild  and  Glyn  made  fearful  declamations  at 
the  bar  against  us,  aggravating  all  the  circumstances  of  our  pre- 
tended treason  to  the  highest  pitch.  Our  counsel  were  all  ready 
at  the  bar  to  plead  for  us  in  answer  of  their  clamorous  and 
envious  suggestions  ;  but  it  was  answered,  that  it  was  now  too 
late,  we  should  have  another  day,  which  day  to  this  day  never 
came  9. 

The  circumstances  of  that  day's  hearing  were  more  grievous  to 
us  than  the  substance  ;  for  we  were  all  thronged  so  miserably  in 
that  strait  room  before  the  bar,  by  reason  that  the  whole  house 
of  commons  would  be  there  to  see  the  prizes  of  their  champions 
played,  that  we  stood  the  whole  afternoon  in  no  small  torture  ; 
sweating  and  struggling  with  a  merciless  multitude,  till  being 
dismissed  we  were  exposed  to  a  new  and  greater  danger.  For 
now  in  the  dark  we  must  to  the  Tower,  by  barge  as  we  came, 
and  must  shoot  the  bridge  l  with  no  small  peril.  That  God, 
under  whose  merciful  protection  we  are,  returned  us  to  our 
safe  custody. 

There  now  we  lay  some  weeks  longer,  expecting  the  summons 
for  our  counsel's  answer ;  but  instead  thereof  our  merciful  adver- 
saries, well  finding  how  sure  they  would  be  foiled  in  that  unjust 
charge  of  treason,  now  under  pretences  of  remitting  the  height  of 
rigour,  waive  their  former  impeachment  of  treason  against  us,  and 
fall  upon  an  accusation  of  high  misdemeanors  in  that  our  protes- 

8  London  and  Winchester.]  William  Juxon,  and  Walter  Curll. 

9  Never  came.']   The    time  began  on  February  19,   1641-2.     See  "Pro- 
ceedings against  the  twelve  bishops  upon  an  accusation  of  high  treason," 
vol.  iv.  State  Trials,  p.  63—82. 

1  Shoot  the  bridgeJ]  i.  e.,  pass  under  London-bridge,  with  the  ebbing  tide, 
when  the  fall  of  water  was  great.  See  Life  of  Wolsey,  in  vol.  i.  p.  492. 


BISHOP  HALL.  319 

tation,  and  will  have  us  prosecuted  as  guilty  of  a  premunire : 
although  as  we  conceive  the  law  hath  ever  been  in  the  parliamen- 
tary proceedings,  that  if  a  man  were  impeached,  as  of  treason 
being  the  highest  crime,  the  accusant  must  hold  him  to  the  proof 
of  the  charge,  and  may  not  fall  to  any  meaner  impeachment  upon 
failing  of  the  higher.  But  in  this  case  of  ours  it  fell  out  other- 
wise; for  although  the  lords  had  openly  promised  us,  that 
nothing  should  be  done  against  us,  till  we  and  our  counsel 
were  heard  in  our  defence,  yet  the  next  news  we  heard  was,  the 
house  of  commons  had  drawn  up  a  bill  against  us,  wherein  they 
declared  us  to  be  delinquents  of  a  very  high  nature,  and  had 
thereupon  desired  to  have  it  enacted  that  all  our  spiritual  means 
should  be  taken  away :  only  there  should  be  a  yearly  allowance 
to  every  bishop  for  his  maintenance,  according  to  a  proportion 
by  them  set  down  ;  wherein  they  were  pleased  that  my  share 
should  come  to  400£.  per  annum.  This  bill  was  sent  up  to 
the  lords  and  by  them  also  passed,  and  there  hath  ever  since 
lain. 

This  being  done,  after  some  weeks  more,  finding  the  Tower 
besides  the  restraint,  chargeable,  we  petitioned  the  lords  that 
we  might  be  admitted  to  bail ;  and  have  liberty  to  return  to 
our  homes.  The  earl  of  Essex  moved,  the  lords  assented,  took 
our  bail,  sent  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  for  our  discharge. 
How  glad  were  we  to  fly  out  of  our  cage  !  No  sooner  was  I  got 
to  my  lodging,  than  I  thought  to  take  a  little  fresh  air,  in  St. 
James's  park ;  and  in  my  return  to  my  lodging  in  the  Dean's 
yard,  passing  through  Westminster-hall,  was  saluted  by  divers 
of  my  parliament  acquaintance,  and  welcomed  to  my  liberty. 
Whereupon  some  that  looked  upon  me  with  an  evil  eye  ran  into 
the  house,  and  complained  that  the  bishops  were  let  loose ; 
which  it  seems  was  not  well  taken  by  the  house  of  commons, 
who  presently  sent  a  kind  of  expostulation  to  the  lords,  that  they 
had  dismissed  so  heinous  offenders  without  their  knowledge  and 
consent.  Scarce  had  I  rested  me  in  my  lodging  when  there 
comes  a  messenger  to  me  with  the  sad  news  of  sending  me  and 
the  rest  of  my  brethren  the  bishops  back  to  the  Tower  again  ; 
from  whence  we  came,  thither  we  must  go  ;  and  thither  I  went 
with  an  heavy  (but  I  thank  God  not  impatient)  heart.  After  we 
had  continued  there  some  six  weeks  longer,  and  earnestly  peti- 
tioned to  return  to  our  several  charges,  we  were  upon  5000£. 
bond  dismissed,  with  a  clause  of  revocation  at  a  short  warning, 


320  BISHOP  HALL. 

if  occasion  should  require.  Thus  having  spent  the  time  betwixt 
new-year's  eve  and  Whitsuntide  in  those  safe  walls,  where  we 
by  turns  preached  every  Lord's  day  to  a  large  auditory  of 
citizens,  we  disposed  of  ourselves  to  the  places  of  our  several 
abode. 

For  myself,  addressing  myself  to  Norwich,  whither  it  was  his 
majesty's  pleasure  to  remove  me,  I  was  at  the  first  received  with 
more  respect,  than  in  such  times  I  could  have  expected.  There 
I  preached  the  day  after  my  arrival  to  a  numerous  and  attentive 
people ;  neither  was  sparing  of  my  pains  in  this  kind  ever  since, 
till  the  times  growing  every  day  more  impatient  of  a  bishop, 
threatened  my  silencing.  There,  though  with  some  secret  mur- 
murs of  disaffected  persons,  I  enjoyed  peace  till  the  ordinance  of 
sequestration  came  forth,  which  was  in  the  latter  end  of  March 
following.  Then,  when  I  was  in  hope  of  receiving  the  profits  of 
the  foregoing  half  year,  for  the  maintenance  of  my  family,  were 
all  my  rents  stopped  and  diverted,  and  in  the  April  following  came 
the  sequestrators,  viz.  Mr.  Sotherton,  Mr.  Tooly,  Mr.  Rawley, 
Mr.  Greenewood,  &c.  to  the  palace,  and  told  me  that  by  virtue  of 
an  ordinance  of  parliament  they  must  seize  upon  the  palace,  and 
all  the  estate  I  had,  both  real  and  personal ;  and  accordingly  sent 
certain  men  appointed  by  them  (whereof  one  had  been  burned  in 
the  hand  for  the  mark  of  his  truth,)  to  apprize  all  the  goods 
that  were  in  the  house,  which  they  accordingly  executed  with  all 
diligent  severity,  not  leaving  so  much  as  a  dozen  of  trenchers,  or 
my  children's  pictures  out  of  their  curious  inventory.  Yea  they 
would  have  apprized  our  very  wearing  clothes,  had  not  alderman 
Tooly  and  sheriff  Rawley  (to  whom  I  sent  to  require  their  judg- 
ment concerning  the  ordinance  in  this  point)  declared  their 
opinion  to  the  contrary. 

These  goods,  both  library  and  houshold  stuff  of  all  kinds,  were 
appointed  to  be  exposed  to  public  sale.  Much  inquiry  there  was 
when  the  goods  should  be  brought  to  the  market ;  but  in  the  mean 
time  Mrs.  Goodwin,  a  religious  good  gentlewoman,  whom  yet  we 
had  never  known  or  seen,  being  moved  with  compassion,  very 
kindly  offered  to  lay  down  to  the  sequestrators  that  whole  sum 
which  the  goods  were  valued  at ;  and  was  pleased  to  leave  thorn 
in  our  hands  for  our  use,  till  we  might  be  able  to  repurchase 
them ;  which  she  did  accordingly,  and  had  the  goods  formally 
delivered  to  her  by  Mr.  Smith,  and  Mr.  Greenewood,  two  seques- 
trators. As  for  the  books,  several  stationers  looked  on  them, 


BISHOP  HALL.  321 

but  were  not  forward  to  buy  them ;  at  last  Mr.  Cook,  a  worthy 
divine  of  this  diocese,  gave  bond  to  the  sequestrators,  to  pay  to 
them  the  whole  sum  whereat  they  were  set,  which  was  afterwards 
satisfied  out  of  that  poor  pittance  that  was  allowed  me  for  my 
maintenance.  As  for  my  evidences  they  required  them  from  me. 
I  denied  them,  as  not  holding  myself  bound  to  deliver  them. 
They  nailed,  and  sealed  up  the  door,  and  took  such  as  they  found 
with  me. 

But  before  this,  the  first  noise  that  I  heard  of  my  trouble  was, 
that  one  morning,  before  my  servants  were  up,  there  came  to  my 
gates  one  Wright,  a  London  trooper,  attended  with  others, 
requiring  entrance,  threatening  if  they  were  not  admitted,  to 
break  open  the  gates  ;  whom  I  found  at  my  first  sight  struggling 
with  one  of  my  servants  for  a  pistol,  which  he  had  in  his  hand. 
I  demanded  his  business  at  that  unseasonable  time ;  he  told  me, 
he  came  to  search  for  arms  and  ammunition,  of  which  I  must  be 
disarmed.  I  told  him  I  had  only  two  muskets  in  the  house,  and 
no  other  military  provision.  He  not  resting  upon  my  word 
searched  round  about  the  house,  looked  into  the  chests  and 
trunks,  examined  the  vessels  in  the  cellar  ;  finding  no  other  war- 
like furniture,  he  asked  me  what  horses  I  had,  for  his  commission 
was  to  take  them  also.  I  told  him  how  poorly  I  was  stored,  and 
that  my  age  would  not  allow  me  to  travel  on  foot.  In  conclusion 
he  took  one  horse  for  the  present,  and  such  account  of  another, 
that  he  did  highly  expostulate  with  me  afterwards,  that  I  had 
otherwise  disposed  of  him. 

Now  not  only  my  rents  present,  but  the  arrearages  of  the 
former  years,  which  I  had  in  favour  forborne  to  some  tenants, 
being  treacherously  confessed  to  the  sequestrators,  were  by  them 
called  for,  and  taken  from  me ;  neither  was  there  any  course  at 
all  taken  for  my  maintenance.  I  therefore  addressed  myself  to 
the  committee  sitting  here  at  Norwich,  and  desired  them  to  give 
order  for  some  means,  out  of  that  large  patrimony  of  the  church, 
to  be  allowed  me.  They  all  thought  it  very  just,  and  there  being 
present  sir  Thomas  Woodhouse 2,  and  sir  John  Potts3,  parliament 
men,  it  was  moved  and  held  fit  by  them  and  the  rest,  that  the 

2  Sir  Thomas  Woodhouse.]  Of  Kemberley,  M.P.  for  Thetford.  He  was 
the  second  baronet  of  the  name.  The  present  lord  Wodehouse  is  his  lineal 
descendant. 

8  Sir  John  Potts.']  Of  Mannington,  M.P.  for  Norfolk.  He  was  the  first 
baronet  of  his  family. 

VOL.   IV.  Y 


322  BISHOP  HALL. 

proportion  which  the  votes  of  the  parliament  had  pitched  upon, 
viz.  4:001.  per  annum,  should  be  allowed  to  me.  My  lord  of  Man- 
chester, who  was  then  conceived  to  have  great  power  in  matter  of 
these  sequestrations,  was  moved  herewith.  He  apprehended  it 
very  just  and  reasonable,  and  wrote  to  the  committee  here  to  set 
out  so  many  of  the  manors  belonging  to  this  bishopric  as  should 
amount  to  the  said  sum  of  400£.  annually ;  which  was  answerably 
done  under  the  hands  of  the  whole  table.  And  now  I  well  hoped, 
I  should  yet  have  a  good  competency  of  maintenance  out  of  that 
plentiful  estate  which  I  might  have  had :  but  those  hopes  were 
no  sooner  conceived  than  dashed ;  for  before  I  could  gather  up 
one  quarterns  rent,  there  comes  down  an  order  from  the  commit- 
tee for  sequestrations  above,  under  the  hand  of  serjeant  Wild4  the 
chairman,  procured  by  Mr.  Miles  Corbet 5,  to  inhibit  any  such 
allowance ;  and  telling  our  committee  here,  that  neither  they, 
nor  any  other  had  power  to  allow  me  any  thing  at  all :  but  if  my 
wife  found  herself  to  need  a  maintenance,  upon  her  suit  to  the 
committee  of  lords  and  commons,  it  might  be  granted  that  she 
should  have  a  fifth  part  according  to  the  ordinance,  allowed  for 
the  sustentation  of  herself,  and  her  family.  Hereupon  she  sends 
a  petition  up  to  that  committee,  which  after  a  long  delay  was 
admitted  to  be  read,  and  an  order  granted  for  the  fifth  part.  But 
still  the  rents  and  revenues  both  of  my  spiritual  and  temporal 
lands  were  taken  up  by  the  sequestrators  both  in  Norfolk,  and 
Suffolk,  and  Essex,  and  we  kept  off  from  either  allowance  or 
account.  At  last  upon  much  pressing,  Beadle  the  solicitor,  and 
Rust  the  collector,  brought  in  an  account  to  the  committee,  such 
as  it  was  ;  but  so  confused  and  perplexed,  and  so  utterly  imper- 
fect, that  we  could  never  come  to  know  what  a  fifth  part  meant : 
but  they  were  content  that  I  should  eat  my  books  by  setting  off 
the  sum  engaged  for  them  out  of  the  fifth  part.  Mean  time  the 
synodals  both  in  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  and  all  the  spiritual  profits 
of  the  diocese  were  also  kept  back,  only  ordinations  and  institu- 
tions continued  a  while.  But  after  the  covenant 6  was  appointed 
to  be  taken,  and  was  generally  swallowed  of  both  clergy  and  laity, 
my  power  of  ordination  was  with  some  strange  violence  restrained. 
For  when  I  was  going  on  in  my  wonted  course  (which  no  law  or 

*  Serjeant  Wild.']  John  Wild,  or  Wylde,  M.P.  for  Worcestershire. 
6  Miles  Corbet.']  M.P.  for  Yarmouth. 

c  After  the  covenant.']    See  lord  Clarendon's  Hist,  nf  the  Rebellion,  b.  vii. 
Fuller,  Church  History,  book  x.  p.  201—7. 


BTSHOP  HALL.  323 

ordinance  had  inhibited)  certain  forward  volunteers  in  the  city, 
banding  together,  stir  up  the  mayor  and  aldermen  and  sheriffs  to 
call  me  to  an  account  for  an  open  violation  of  their  Covenant. 
To  this  purpose  divers  of  them  came  to  my  gates  at  a  very  unsea- 
sonable time,  and  knocking  very  vehemently,  required  to  speak 
with  the  bishop  !  Messages  were  sent  to  them  to  know  their 
business.  Nothing  would  satisfy  them  but  the  bishop's  presence ; 
at  last  I  came  down  to  them,  and  demanded  what  the  matter 
was ;  they  would  have  the  gate  opened,  and  then  they  would  tell 
me ;  I  answered  that  I  would  know  them  better  first :  if  they 
had  any  thing  to  say  to  me  I  was  ready  to  hear  them.  They 
told  me  they  had  a  writing  to  me  from  Mr.  Mayor,  and  some 
other  of  their  magistrates.  The  paper  contained  both  a  challenge 
of  me  for  breaking  the  Covenant,  in  ordaining  ministers  ;  and 
withal  required  me  to  give  in  the  names  of  those  which  were 
ordained  by  me  both  then  and  formerly  since  the  Covenant.  My 
answer  was  that  Mr.  Mayor  was  much  abused  by  those  who  had 
misinformed  him,  and  drawn  that  paper  from  him ;  that  I  would 
the  next  day  give  a  full  answer  to  the  writing.  They  moved  that 
my  answer  might  be  by  my  personal  appearance  at  the  Guildhall. 
I  asked  them  when  they  ever  heard  of  a  bishop  of  Norwich  ap- 
pearing before  a  mayor.  I  knew  mine  own  place,  and  would  take 
that  way  of  answer  which  I  thought  fit ;  and  so  dismissed  them, 
who  had  given  out  that  day,  that  had  they  known  before  of  mine 
ordaining,  they  would  have  pulled  me  and  those  whom  I  ordained 
out  of  the  chapel  by  the  ears. 

Whiles  I  received  nothing,  yet  something  was  required  of  me. 
They  were  not  ashamed  after  they  had  taken  away,  and  sold  all 
my  goods  and  personal  estate,  to  come  to  me  for  assessments, 
and  monthly  payments  for  that  estate  which  they  had  taken,  and 
took  distresses  from  me  upon  my  most  just  denial,  and  vehe- 
mently required  me  to  find  the  wonted  arms  of  my  predecessors, 
when  they  had  left  me  nothing.  Many  insolences  and  affronts 
were  in  all  this  time  put  upon  us.  One  while  a  whole  rabble  of 
volunteers  come  to  my  gates  late,  when  they  were  locked  up,  and 
called  for  the  porter  to  give  them  entrance,  which  being  not 
yielded,  they  threatened  to  make  by  force,  and  had  not  the  said 
gates  been  very  strong  they  had  done  it.  Others  of  them 
clambered  over  the  walls,  and  would  come  into  mine  house  ; 
their  errand  (they  said)  was  to  search  for  delinquents.  What 
they  would  have  done  I  know  not,  had  not  we  by  a  secret  way 

Y  2 


324  BISHOP  HALL. 

sent  to  raise  the  officers  for  our  rescue.  Another  while  the  sheriff 
Toftes,  and  alderman  Linsey,  attended  with  many  zealous  fol- 
lowers, came  into  my  chapel  to  look  for  superstitious  pictures, 
and  relics  of  idolatry,  and  sent  for  me,  to  let  me  know  they  found 
those  windows  full  of  images,  which  were  very  offensive,  and  must 
be  demolished !  I  told  them  they  were  the  pictures  of  some 
antient  and  worthy  bishops,  as  St.  Ambrose,  Austin,  &c.  It 
was  answered  me,  that  they  were  so  many  popes;  and  one 
younger  man  amongst  the  rest  (Townsend  as  I  perceived  after- 
wards) would  take  upon  him  to  defend  that  every  diocesan  bishop 
was  pope.  I  answered  him  with  some  scorn,  and  obtained  leave 
that  I  might  with  the  least  loss  and  defacing  of  the  windows,  give 
order  for  taking  off  that  offence,  which  I  did  by  causing  the 
heads  of  those  pictures  to  be  taken  off,  since  I  knew  the  bodies 
could  not  offend. 

There  was  not  that  care  and  moderation  used  in  reforming 
the  cathedral  church  bordering  upon  my  palace.  It  is  no  other 
than  tragical  to  relate  the  carriage  of  that  furious  sacrilege, 
whereof  our  eyes  and  ears  were  the  sad  witnesses,  under  the 
authority  and  presence  of  Linsey,  Toftes  the  sheriff,  and  Greene- 
wood.  Lord,  what  work  was  here,  what  clattering  of  glasses, 
what  beating  down  of  walls,  what  tearing  up  of  monuments,  what 
pulling  down  of  seats,  what  wresting  out  of  irons  and  brass  from 
the  windows  and  graves !  what  defacing  of  arms,  what  demo- 
lishing of  curious  stone- work,  that  had  not  any  representation  in 
the  world,  but  only  of  the  cost  of  the  founder,  and  skill  of  the 
mason ;  what  tooting  and  piping  upon  the  destroyed  organ  pipes, 
and  what  a  hideous  triumph  on  the  market  day  before  all  the 
country,  when  in  a  kind  of  sacrilegious  and  profane  procession, 
all  the  organ  pipes,  vestments,  both  copes  and  surplices,  together 
with  the  leaden  cross 7,  which  had  been  newly  sawn  down  from 

7  Leaden  cross.']    In  the  church-warden's  accounts  of  the  parish  of  Lam- 
beth, fol.  288,  A.D.  1642,  is  the  following  entry  : 

"  Paid  for  taking  downe  the  crosse  off  the  steeple       ...016" 
And  in  fol.  293,  is  a  further  payment  of  2*.     In  a  subsequent  year  we  find 
how  the  cross  was  disposed  of;  fol.  296,  A.D.  1644  : 

"  Rec.  for  the  crosse  that  was  upon  the  steeple,  and  other 

ouldeiron 136" 

The  following  extracts  are  also  given  from  the  same  book,  as  further  illus- 
trative of  the  proceedings  of  those  times  :  fol.  293,  A.D.  1643  : 
"  Paide  to  John  Pickerskill  for  taking  downe  the  railes  that 

were  about  the  communion  table 010" 

[Fol. 


BISHOP  HALL.  325 

over  the  green-yard  pulpit,  and  the  service  books  and  singing 
books  that  could  be  had,  were  carried  to  the  fire  in  the  public 
market  place :  a  lewd  wretch  walking  before  the  train,  in  his 
cope  trailing  in  the  dirt,  with  a  service  book  in  his  hand,  imitating 
in  an  impious  scorn  the  tune,  and  usurping  the  words  of  the 
litany  used  formerly  in  the  church  !  Near  the  public  cross,  all 
these  monuments  of  idolatry  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  fire,  not 
without  much  ostentation  of  a  zealous  joy  in  discharging  ordnance 
to  the  cost  of  some  who  professed  how  much  they  had  longed  to 
see  that  day.  Neither  was  it  any  news  upon  this  guild-day  to  have 
the  cathedral  now  open  on  all  sides  to  be  filled  with  musketeers, 
waiting  for  the  mayor's  return,  drinking  and  tobacconing  as  freely 
as  if  it  had  turned  alehouse. 

Still  yet  I  remained  in  my  palace  though  with  but  a  poor 
retinue  and  means ;  but  the  house  was  held  too  good  for  me : 
many  messages  were  sent  by  Mr.  Corbet  to  remove  me  thence. 
The  first  pretence  was,  that  the  committee,  who  now  was  at 
charge  for  an  house  to  sit  in,  might  make  their  daily  session  there, 
being  a  place  both  more  public,  roomy,  and  chargeless.  The 
committee  after  many  consultations  resolved  it  convenient  to 
remove  thither,  though  many  overtures  and  offers  were  made  to 
the  contrary.  Mr.  Corbet  was  impatient  of  my  stay  there,  and 
procures  and  sends  peremptory  messages  for  my  present  dis- 
lodging. We  desired  to  have  some  time  allowed  for  providing 
some  other  mansion,  if  we  must  needs  be  cast  out  of  this,  which 
my  wife  was  so  willing  to  hold,  that  she  offered,  (if  the  charge  of 
the  present  committee  house  were  the  things  stood  upon)  she 
would  be  content  to  defray  the  sum  of  the  rent  of  that  house 
of  her  fifth  part ;  but  that  might  not  be  yielded :  out  we  must, 
and  that  in  three  weeks  warning,  by  midsummer-day  then 
approaching,  so  as  we  might  have  lain  in  the  street  for  ought  I 
know,  had  not  the  providence  of  God  so  ordered  it  that  a 
neighbour  in  the  close,  one  Mr.  Gostlin,  a  widower,  was  content 
to  void  his  house  for  us. 


Fol.  296,  A.D.  1644: 

"Paid  to  the  carpenters  for  worke  in  taking  downe  the 

skreenes  betweene  the  church  and  the  chancel    ....     0  13     0 
"  Paid  to  Ed.  Marshall  for  two  dayes  worke  in  levelling  the 

chancell 040 

Fol.  300,  A.D.  1645: 
"  Paid  for  a  basen  to  baptize  in,  and  for  the  frame     ...     0    5     0 


326  BISHOP  HALL. 

This  hath  been  my  measure ;  wherefore,  I  know  not ;  Lord,  thou 
knowest,  who  only  canst  remedy,  and  end,  and  forgive  or  avenge 
this  horribU  oppression. 

Jos.  NORVIC. 

Scripsi,  May  29,  1647. 


SHORTLY  after 8,  this  excellent  bishop  retired  to  a  little  estate, 
which  he  rented  at  Higham  near  Norwich ;  where,  notwith- 
standing the  narrowness  of  his  circumstances,  he  distributed  a 
weekly  charity  to  a  certain  number  of  poor  widows.  In  this 
retirement  he  ended  his  life,  September  8,  1656,  aged  82  years; 
and  was  buried  in  the  church-yard  of  that  parish,  without  any 
memorial ;  observing  in  his  will,  "  I  do  not  hold  God's  house  a 
meet  repository  for  the  dead  bodies  of  the  greatest  saints." 

He  is  universally  allowed  to  have  been  a  man  of  incomparable 
piety,  meekness,  and  modesty,  having  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  world,  and  of  great  wit  and  learning. 

A  writer"  observes  of  him  that  "  he  may  be  said  to  have  died 
with  the  pen  in  his  hand.  He  was  commonly  called  our  English 
Seneca,  for  his  pure,  plain  and  full  stile.  Not  ill  at  contro- 
versies, more  happy  at  comments,  very  good  in  his  characters, 
better  in  his  sermons,  best  of  all  in  his  meditations" 

8  Shortly  after.~\  This  conclusion  is  transcribed  from  the  notes  to  an 
edition  of  this  life,  &c.  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  bishop  Hall's  Contemplations, 
published  AD.  1759,  by  the  Rev.  Wra.  Dodd. 

c  England's  Worthies,  p.  441. 


DR.  HENRY  HAMMOND. 


In  these  things  we  also  have  been  but  too  like  the  sons  of  Israel ;  for  when 
we  sinned  as  greatly,  we  also  have  groaned  under  as  great  and  sad  a  calamity. 
For  we  have  not  only  felt  the  evils  of  an  intestine  war,  but  God  hath  smitten 
us  in  our  spirit,  and  laid  the  scene  of  his  judgments  especially  in  religion. — 
But  I  delight  not  to  observe  the  correspondencies  of  such  sad  accidents  : 
they  do  but  help  to  vex  the  offending  part,  and  relieve  the  afflicted  but  with 
a  fantastic  and  groundless  comfort.  I  will  therefore  deny  leave  to  my  own 
affections  to  ease  themselves  by  complaining  of  others.  I  shall  only  crave 
leave,  that  I  may  remember  Jerusalem,  and  call  to  mind  the  pleasures  of  the 
temple,  the  order  of  her  services,  the  beauty  of  her  buildings,  the  sweetness 
of  her  songs,  the  decency  of  her  ministrations,  the  assiduity  and  oeconomy  of 
her  priests  and  levites,  the  daily  sacrifice,  and  that  eternal  fire  of  devotion, 
that  went  not  out  by  day  nor  by  night.  These  were  the  pleasures  of  our 
peace  :  and  there  is  a  remanent  felicity  in  the  very  memory  of  those  spiritual 
delights,  which  we  then  enjoyed  as  antepasts  of  heaven,  and  consignations  to 
an  immortality  of  joys.  And  it  may  be  so  again,  when  it  shall  please  God,  who 
hath  the  hearts  of  all  princes  in  his  hand,  and  turneth  them  as  the  rivers  of 
waters ;  and  when  men  will  consider  the  invaluable  loss  that  is  consequent, 
and  the  danger  of  sin  that  is  append  ant  to  the  destroying  of  such  forms  of 
discipline  and  devotion,  in  which  God  was  purely  worshipped,  and  the  church 
was  edified,  and  the  people  instructed  to  great  degrees  of  piety,  knowledge, 
and  devotion. 

BISHOP  TAYLOR. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  following  account  of  Dr.  Henry  Hammond  is  a  republication 
of  The  Life  of  the  most  learned,  reverend  and  pious  Dr.  II.  Ham- 
mond, written  by  John  Fell,  D.D.  Dean  of  Christ  Church  in 
Oxford;  the  second  edition;  London,  1662;  of  which  the  first 
edition  came  out  in  the  year  preceding. 


DR.  HENRY  HAMMOND. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND,  whose  life  is  now  attempted  to  be 
written,  was  born  upon  the  eighteenth  of  August  in  the  year 
1 605,  at  Chertsey  in  Surrey,  a  place  formerly  of  remark  for  Julius 
Caesar's  supposed  passing  his  army  there  over  the  Thames,  in  his 
enterprise  upon  this  island;  as  also  for  the  entertainment  of 
devotion  in  its  earliest  reception  by  our  Saxon  ancestors ;  and  of 
later  years,  for  the  charity  of  having  given  burial  to  the  equally 
pious  and  unfortunate  prince  king  Henry  VI. 

He  was  the  youngest  son  of  Dr.  John  Hammond  physician  to 
prince  Henry ;  and  from  that  great  favourer  of  meriting  servants 
and  their  relations,  had  the  honour  at  the  font  to  receive  his 
Christian  name. 

Nor  had  he  an  hereditary  interest  in  learning  only  from  his 
father ;  by  his  mother's  side  he  was  allied  both  unto  it  and  the 
profession  of  theology,  being  descended1  from  Dr.  Alexander 
Nowel,  the  reverend  dean  of  St.  Paul's,  that  great  and  happy 
instrument  of  the  reformation,  and  eminent  light  of  the  English 
church. 

Being  yet  in  his  long  coats,  (which  heretofore  were  usually 
worn  beyond  the  years  of  infancy 2,)  he  was  sent  to  Eton  school ; 
where  his  pregnancy,  having  been  advantaged  by  the  more  than 

1  Being  descended.]  But  see  Churton's  Life  of  Nowell,  pp.  362,  3. 

2  The  years  of  infancy. ~]  "  When  about  seven  years  old"  (it  is  related  of 
Williams,  afterward  archbishop  of  York,  the  antagonist  and  rival  of  arch- 
bishop Laud,  that)  "  He  took  a  leap,  being  then  in  long  coats,  from  the  walls 
of  Conway  town  to  the  sea  shore,  looking  that  the  wind,  which  was  then  very 
strong,  would  fill  his  coats  like  a  sail,  and  bear  him  up,  as  it  did  with  his 

play  fellows :  but  he  found  it  otherwise ."     Hacket's  Life  of  Williams, 

p.  8.    This  was  about  the  year  1590. 


332  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

paternal  care  and  industry  of  his  father  (who  was  an  exact  critic 
in  the  learned  languages,  especially  the  Greek),  became  the  ob- 
servation of  those  that  knew  him :  for  in  that  tenderness  of  age 
he  was  not  only  a  proficient  in  Greek  and  Latin,  but  had  also 
some  knowledge  in  the  elements  of  Hebrew:  in  the  latter  of 
which  tongues,  it  being  then  rarely  heard  of  even  out  of  grammar 
schools,  he  grew  the  tutor  of  those  who  began  to  write  themselves 
men,  but  thought  it  no  shame  to  learn  of  one  whose  knowledge 
seemed  rather  infused  than  acquired ;  or  in  whom  the  learned 
languages  might  be  thought  to  be  the  mother  tongue.  His  skill 
in  the  Greek  was  particularly  advantaged  by  the  conversation  and 
kindness  of  Mr.  Allen,  one  of  the  fellows  of  the  college,  excel- 
lently seen  in  that  language,  and  a  great  assistance  of  sir  Henry 
Savile  in  his  magnificent  edition  of  St.  Chrysostom. 

His  sweetness  of  carriage  is  very  particularly  remembered  by 
his  contemporaries,  who  observed  that  he  was  never  engaged 
(upon  any  occasion)  into  fights  or  quarrels  ;  as  also  that  at  times 
allowed  for  play,  he  would  steal  from  his  fellows*  into  places 

3  Steal  from  his  fellows]  The  place,  and  the  engagements  of  this  school- 
boy remind  us  of  the  narrative  given  by  the  pious  and  amiable  Dr.  Henry 
More  of  his  own  early  years.  "  Being  bred  up,  to  the  almost  fourteenth 
year  of  my  age,  under  parents,  and  a  master,  that  were  great  Calvinists,  but 
withal,  very  pious  and  good  ones ;  at  that  time,  by  the  order  of  my  parents, 
persuaded  to  it  by  my  uncle,  I  immediately  went  to  Eton  school ;  not  to 
learn  any  new  precepts  or  institutes  of  religion,  but  for  the  perfecting  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  tongue.  But  neither  there,  not  yet  any  where  else,  could  I 
ever  swallow  down  that  hard  doctrine  concerning  Fate.  On  the  contrary,  I 
remember  that  upon  those  words  of  Epictetus,  "Aye  /x?  w  Zfi),  cat  <rr  >'/ 
7r£7rpa>/^»»7,  Lead  me,  O  Jupiter,  and  thou  Fate,  I  did,  with  my  eldest  brother, 
who  then,  as  it  happened,  had  accompanied  my  uncle  thither,  very  stoutly 
and  earnestly  for  my  years,  dispute  against  this  fate  or  Calvinistical  predesti- 
nation, as  it  is  usually  called  :  and  that  my  uncle,  when  he  came  to  know  it, 
chid  me  severely ;  adding  menaces  withal  of  correction,  and  a  rod  for  my 
immature  forwardness  in  philosophizing  concerning  such  matters.  Moreover, 
that  I  had  such  a  deep  aversion  in  my  temper  to  this  opinion,  and  so  firm  and 
unshaken  a  persuasion  of  the  divine  justice  and  goodness ;  that,  on  a  certain 
day,  in  a  ground  belonging  to  Eton  College,  where  the  boys  used  to  play  and 
exercise  themselves,  musing  concerning  these  things  with  myself,  and  recalling 
to  my  mind  the  doctrine  of  Calvin,  I  did  thus  seriously  and  deliberately  con- 
clude within  myself,  namely,  If  I  am  one  of  those  that  are  predestinated  unto 
hell,  where  all  things  are  full  of  nothing  but  cursing  and  blasphemy,  yet  will  I 
behave  myself  there  patiently  and  submissively  towards  God :  and  if  there  be 
any  one  thing  more  than  another,  that  is  acceptable  to  him,  that  will  I  set  myself 
to  do,  with  a  sincere  heart,  and  to  the  utmost  of  my  power.  .  .  .  which  medita- 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  333 

of  privacy,  there  to  say  his  prayers  :  omens  of  his  future  pacific 
temper  and  eminent  devotion. 

Which  softness  of  temper  his  schoolmaster  Mr.  Bush,  who 
upon  his  father's  account  had  a  tender  kindness  for  him,  looked 
upon  with  some  jealousy ;  for  he  building  upon  the  general  obser- 
vation, that  gravity  and  passiveness  in  children  is  not  from  dis- 
cretion but  phlegm,  suspected  that  his  scholar's  faculties  would 
desert  his  industry,  and  end  only  in  a  laborious  well-read  non- 
proficiency  :  but  the  event  gave  full  and  speedy  defeat  to  those 
well-meant  misgivings ;  for  he  so  improved,  that  at  thirteen  years 
old  he  was  thought,  and  (what  is  much  more  rare)  was  indeed 
ripe  for  the  university,  and  accordingly  sent  to  Magdalen  college 
in  Oxford,  where  not  long  after  he  was  chosen  demy;  and  though 
he  stood  low  upon  the  roll,  by  a  very  unusual  concurrence  of  pro- 
vidential events,  happened  to  be  sped :  and  though,  having  then 
lost  his  father,  he  became  destitute  of  the  advantage  which  potent 
recommendation  might  have  given,  yet  his  merit  voting  for  him, 
as  soon  as  capable  he  was  chosen  fellow. 

Being  to  proceed  master  of  arts,  he  was  made  reader  of  the 
natural  philosophy  lecture  in  the  college,  and  also  was  employed 
in  making  the  funeral  oration  on  the  highly  meriting  president 
Dr.  Langton. 

tion  of  mine  is  as  firmly  fixed  in  my  memory,  and  the  very  place  where  I 
stood,  as  if  the  thing  had  been  transacted  but  a  day  or  two  ago. 

"  And  as  to  what  concerns  the  existence  of  God,  though  in  that  ground 
mentioned,  walking,  as  my  manner  was,  slowly,  and  with  my  head  on  one  side, 
and  kicking  now  and  then  the  stones  with  my  feet,  I  was  wont  sometimes, 
with  a  sort  of  musical  and  melancholick  manner,  to  repeat,  or  rather  humm 
to  myself  those  verses  of  Claudian  : 

*  Ssepe  mihi  dubiam  traxit  sententia  mentem, 
Curarent  Superi  terras ;  an  nullus  inesset 
Rector,  et  incerto  fluerent  mortalia  casu :' 

'  Oft  hath  my  anxious  mind  divided  stood, 

Whether  the  gods  did  mind  this  lower  world  ; 
Or  whether  no  such  Ruler,  wise  and  good, 
We  had ;  and  all  things  here  by  chance  were  hurled  ;' 

yet  that  exceeding  hale  and  intire  sense  of  God,  which  nature  herself  had 
planted  deeply  in  me,  very  easily  silenced  all  such  slight  and  poetical  dubita- 
tions  as  these.  Yea,  even  in  my  just  childhood,  an  inward  sense  of  the 
divine  presence  was  so  strong  upon  my  mind,  that  I  did  then  believe,  there 
could  no  deed,  word  or  thought  be  hidden  from  him." — Life  of  the  learned 
and  pious  Dr.  Henry  More,  by  Richard  Ward,  A.M.  London,  1710.  8vo,  p.  5. 


334  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

Having  taken  his  degree,  he  presently  bought  a  system  of 
divinity,  with  a  design  to  apply  himself  straightway  to  that 
study :  but  upon  second  thoughts  he  returned  for  a  time  to 
human  learning,  and  afterwards  when  he  resumed  his  purpose 
for  theology,  took  a  quite  different  course  of  reading  from  the 
other  too  much  usual  *,  beginning  that  science  at  the  upper  end, 
as  conceiving  it  most  reasonable  to  search  for  primitive  truth  in 
the  primitive  writers,  and  not  to  suffer  his  understanding  to  be 
prepossest  by  the  contrived  and  interested  schemes  of  modern 
and  withal  obnoxious  authors. 

Anno  1 629,  being  twenty-four  years  of  age,  the  statutes  of  his 
house  directing,  and  the  canons  of  the  church  then  regularly  per- 
mitting it,  he  entered  into  holy  orders :  and  upon  the  same 
grounds  not  long  after  took  the  degree  of  bachelor  in  divinity, 
giving  as  happy  proof  of  his  proficiency  in  sacred,  as  before  he 
had  done  in  secular  knowledge. 

During  the  whole  time  of  his  abode  in  the  university  he  gene- 
rally spent  thirteen  hours  of  the  day  in  study ;  by  which  assiduity 
besides  an  exact  dispatch  of  the  whole  course  of  philosophy,  ho 

4  Too  much  usual.']  "  To  such  an  absolute  authority  were  the  names  and 
writings  of  some  men  advanced  by  their  diligent  followers,  that  not  to  yield 
obedience  to  their  ipse  dixits,  was  a  crime  unpardonable. 

"  It  is  true  king  James  observed  the  inconvenience,  and  prescribed  a 
remedy,  sending  Instructions  to  the  Universities,  bearing  date  Jan.  18,  anno 
1616,  wherein  it  was  directed  amongst  other  things,  that  young  students  in 
divinity  should  be  excited  to  study  such  books  as  were  most  agreeable  in  doctrine 
and  discipline  to  the  Church  of  England ;  and  to  bestow  their  time  in  the 
Fathers  and  Councils,  Schoolmen,  Histories,  and  Controversies;  and  not  to 
insist  too  long  upon  Compendiums  and  Abbreviators,  making  them  the  grounds 
of  their  study.  And  I  conceive  that  from  that  time  forwards  the  names  and 
reputations  of  some  leading  men  of  the  Foreign  Churches,  which  till  then 
carried  all  before  them,  did  begin  to  lessen;  divines  growing  daily  more 
willing  to  free  themselves  from  that  servitude  and  vassalage,  to  which  the 
authority  of  those  names  had  enslaved  their  judgments. — About  those  times 
it  was,  that  I  began  my  studies  in  divinity;  and  thought  no  course  so 
proper  and  expedient  for  me,  as  the  way  commended  by  king  James  .... 
For  though  I  had  a  good  respect  both  to  the  memory  of  Luther,  and  the  name 
of  Calvin  ;  as  those  whose  writings  had  awakened  all  these  parts  of  Europe 
out  of  the  ignorance  and  superstition  under  which  they  suffered ;  yet  I 
always  took  them  to  be  men  :  men  as  obnoxious  unto  error,  as  subject  unto 
human  frailty,  and  as  indulgent  too  to  their  own  opinions,  as  any  others 
whatsoever."  Heylin's  Sum  of  Christian  Theology,  in  the  address  to  the 
reader.  1673.  folio.  Compare  also  above,  Life  of  Bishop  Hall,  p.  297, 
note. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  335 

read  over  in  a  manner  all  classic  authors  that  are  extant ;  and 
upon  the  more  considerable  wrote,  as  he  passed,  scholia  and 
critical  emendations,  and  drew  up  indexes  for  his  private  use  at 
the  beginning  and  end  of  each  book  :  all  which  remain  at  this 
time,  and  testify  his  indefatigable  pains  to  as  many  as  have 
perused  his  library. 

In  the  year  1633,  the  reverend  Dr.  Frewen 5,  the  then  president 
of  his  college,  now  lord  arch-bishop  of  York,  gave  him  the  honour 
to  supply  one  of  his  courses  at  the  court ;  where  the  right 
honourable  the  earl  of  Leicester 6  happened  to  be  an  auditor.  He 
was  so  deeply  affected  with  the  sermon,  and  took  so  just  a  mea- 
sure of  the  merit  of  the  preacher  thence,  that  the  rectory  of 
Penshurst 7  being  at  that  time  void,  and  in  his  gift,  he  imme- 
diately offered  him  the  presentation  :  which  being  accepted,  he 
was  inducted  on  the  22  of  A  ugust  in  the  same  year ;  and  thence- 
forth from  the  scholastic  retirements  of  an  university  life,  applied 
himself  to  the  more  busy  entertainments  of  a  rural  privacy,  and 
what  some  have  called  the  being  buried  in  a  living :  and  being  to 
leave  the  house,  he  thought  not  fit  to  take  that  advantage  of  his 
place,  which  from  sacrilege,  or  selling  of  the  founder's  charity, 
was  by  custom  grown  to  be  prudence  and  good  husbandry. 

In  the  discharge  of  his  ministerial  function,  he  satisfied  not 
himself  in  diligent  and  constant  preaching  only  ;  (a  performance 
wherein  some  of  late  have  fancied  all  religion  to  consist)  but 
much  more  conceived  himself  obliged  to  the  offering  up  the 
solemn  daily  sacrifice  of  prayer  for  his  people,  administering 
the  sacraments,  relieving  the  poor,  keeping  hospitality,  recon- 
ciling of  differences  amongst  neighbours,  visiting  the  sick,  cate- 
chizing the  youth. 

As  to  the  first  of  these,  his  preaching \  it  was  not  at  the  ordi- 
nary rate  of  the  times 8,  an  unpremeditated,  undigested  effusion 

5  Frewen.~\  Accepted  Frewen,  dean  of  Gloucester,  bishop  of  Lichfield  and 
Coventry,  August  17,  1643  ;  archbishop  of  York,  September  22, 1660  ;  died, 
March  28,  1664. 

0  Leicester.']  Robert  Sydney,  second  earl  of  Leicester. 

:  Penshurst.']  In  Kent :  the  well-known  seat  of  the  Sydneys. 

8  Rate  of  the  times.']  Of  Hammond's  friend  the  learned  Dr.  Edward 
Pocock,  the  ornament  and  pride  of  his  country,  especially  as  an  orien- 
talist, we  are  told  by  his  biographer,  that  as  he  avoided  in  his  preaching 
"  The  shews  and  ostentations  of  learning ;  so  he  would  not,  by  any  means, 
indulge  himself  in  the  practice  of  those  arts,  which  at  that  time  were  very 
common,  and  much  admired  by  ordinary  people.  Such  were  distortions  of 


336  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

of  shallow  and  crude  conceptions;  but  a  rational  and  just  dis- 
course, that  was  to  teach  the  priest  as  well  as  the  lay-hearer. 
His  method  was  (which  likewise  he  recommended  to  his  friends) 
after  every  sermon  to  resolve  upon  the  ensuing  subject ;  that 
being  done,  to  pursue  the  course  of  study  which  he  was  then  in 
hand  with,  reserving  the  close  of  the  week  for  the  provision  for 
the  next  LordVday.  Whereby  not  only  a  constant  progress  was 
made  in  science,  but  materials  unawares  were  gained  unto  the 
immediate  future  work :  for,  he  said,  be  the  subjects  treated  of 
never  so  distant,  somewhat  will  infallibly  fall  in  conducible  unto 
the  present  purpose. 

The  offices  of  prayer  he  had  in  his  church,  not  only  upon  the 
Sundays  and  festivals  and  their  eves,  as  also  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays,  according  to  the  appointment  of  the  rubric :  (which 
strict  duty  and  administration  when  it  is  examined  to  the  bottom 
will  prove  the  greatest  objection  against  the  liturgy;  as  that 
which,  besides  its  own  trouble  and  austerity,  leaves  no  leisure  for 
factious  and  licentious  meetings  at  fairs  and  markets)  but  every 
day 9  in  the  week,  and  twice  on  Saturdays,  and  holy-day  eves : 
for  his  assistance  wherein  he  kept  a  curate,  and  allowed  him  a 
comfortable  salary.  And  at  those  devotions  he  took  order  that 
his  family  should  give  diligent  and  exemplary  attendance :  which 
was  the  easilier  performed,  it  being  guided  by  his  mother  a 
woman  of  ancient  virtue,  and  one  to  whom  he  paid  a  more  than 
filial  obedience. 

As  to  the  administration  of  the  Sacrament,  he  reduced  it  to  an 
imitation,  though  a  distant  one,  of  primitive  frequency,  to  once  a 
month,  and  therewith  its  anciently  inseparable  appendant,  the 
offertory  :  wherein  his  instruction  and  happily-insinuating  exain- 

the  countenance  and  strange  gestures,  a  violent  and  unnatural  way  of  speak- 
ing, and  affected  words  and  phrases,  which  being  out  of  the  ordinary  way, 
were  therefore  supposed  to  express  somewhat  very  mysterious,  and  in  a  high 
degree  spiritual  .  .  . 

"  His  care  not  to  amuse  his  hearers,  with  things  which  they  could  not 
understand,  gave  some  of  them  occasion  to  entertain  very  contemptible 
thoughts  of  his  learning,  and  to  speak  of  him  accordingly.  So  that  one  of 
his  Oxford  friends,  as  he  travelled  through  Childry,  enquiring,  for  his  diver- 
sion, of  some  people,  who  was  their  minister,  and  how  they  liked  him, 
received  from  them  this  answer,  Our  parson  is  one  Mr.  Pocock,  a  plain, 
honest  man ;  but  Master,  said  they,  he  is  no  Latiner."  Trail's  Life  of  Dr. 
Edward  Pocock,  prefixed  to  Pocock's  Theological  Works,  p.  22. 

9  But  every  dayJ]  Compare  above,  Life  of  Herbert,  vol.  iv.  p.  38. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  337 

pie  so  far  prevailed,  that  there  was  thenceforth  little  need  of  ever 
making  any  tax  for  the  poor.  Nay,  (if  the  report  of  a  sober 
person,  born  and  bred  up  in  that  parish,  be  to  be  believed)  in 
short  time  a  stock  was  raised  to  be  always  ready  for  the  appren- 
ticing of  young  children,  whose  parents'*  condition  made  the  pro- 
vision for  them  an  equal  charity  to  both  the  child  and  parent. 
And  after  this  there  yet  remained  a  surplusage  for  the  assistance 
of  the  neighbour  parishes. 

For  the  relief  of  the  poor,  besides  the  forementioned  expedient, 
wherein  others  were  sharers  with  him,  unto  his  private  charity, 
the  dedicating  the  tenth  of  all  receipts,  and  the  alms  daily  given 
at  the  door,  he  constantly  set  apart  over  and  above  every  week  a 
certain  rate  in  money :  and  however  rarely  his  own  rent-days 
occurred,  the  indigent  had  two  and  fifty  quarter-days  returning 
in  his  year.  Yet  farther,  another  act  of  charity  he  had,  the 
selling  corn  to  his  poor  neighbours  at  a  rate  below  the  market- 
price  :  which  though,  as  he  said,  he  had  reason  to  do,  gaining 
thereby  the  charge  of  portage,  was  a  great  benefit  to  them,  who 
besides  the  abatement  of  price,  and  possibly  forbearance,  saved 
thereby  a  day's  work. 

He  that  was  thus  liberal  to  the  necessitous  poor,  was  no  less 
hospitable  to  those  of  better  quality :  and  as  at  other  times  he 
frequently  invited  his  neighbours  to  his  table,  so  more  especially 
on  Sundays ;  which  seldom  past  at  any  time  without  bringing 
some  of  them  his  guests :  but  here  beyond  the  weekly  treatments, 
the  Christmas  festival  had  a  peculiar  allowance  to  support  it. 
He  knew  well  how  much  the  application  at  the  table  inforced  the 
doctrines  of  the  pulpit,  and  how  subservient  the  endearing  of  his 
person  was  to  the  recommending  his  instructions  ;  how  far  upon 
these  motives  our  Saviour  thought  fit  to  eat  with  publicans  and 
sinners  ;  and  how  effectual  the  loaves  were  to  the  procuring  of 
disciples. 

In  accordance  to  which  his  generous  freedom  in  alms  and 
hospitality,  he  farther  obliged  his  parishioners  in  the  setting  of 
their  tithes  and  dues  belonging  to  him ;  for  though  he  very  well 
understood  how  prone  men  are  to  give  complaints  in  payment, 
and  how  little  obligation  there  is  on  him  that  lets  a  bargain  to 
consider  the  casual  loss,  who  is  sure  never  to  share  in  a  like  sur- 
plusage of  gain ;  yet  herein  he  frequently  departed  from  his  right 
insomuch  that  having  set  the  tithe  of  a  large  meadow,  and  upon 
agreement  received  part  of  the  money  at  the  beginning  of  the 

VOL.  iv.  z 


338  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

year  ;  it  happening  that  the  profits  were  afterwards  spoiled  and 
carried  away  by  a  flood,  he,  when  the  tenant  came  to  make  his 
last  payment,  not  only  refused  it,  but  returned  the  former  sum, 
saying  to  the  poor  man,  "  God  forbid  I  should  take  the  tenth 
where  you  have  not  the  nine  parts.'1 

As  by  public  admonition  he  most  diligently  instilled  that  great 
and  fundamental  doctrine  of  peace  and  love,  so  did  he  likewise  in 
his  private  address  and  conversation,  being  never  at  peace  in  him- 
self, till  he  had  procured  it  amongst  his  neighbours;  wherein 
God  so  blest  him,  that  he  not  only  attained  his  purpose  of  uniting 
distant  parties  unto  each  other,  but,  contrary  to  the  usual  fate  of 
reconcilers,  gained  them  to  himself:  there  having  been  no  person 
of  his  function  any  where  better  beloved  than  he  when  present,  or 
lamented  more  when  absent,  by  his  flock.  Of  which  tender  and 
very  filial  affection,  instead  of  more  we  may  take  two  instances : 
the  one,  that  he  being  driven  away,  and  his  books  plundered,  one 
of  his  neighbours  bought  them  *  in  his  behalf,  and  preserved  them 
for  him  till  the  end  of  the  war ;  the  other,  that  during  his  abode 
at  Penshurst  he  never  had  any  vexatious  law  dispute  about  his 
dues,  but  had  his  tithes  fully  paid,  and  not  of  the  most  refuse 
parts,  but  generally  the  very  best. 

Though  he  judged  the  time  of  sickness  an  improper  season  for 
the  great  work  of  repentance  ;  yet  he  esteemed  it  a  most  useful 
preparative,  the  voice  of  God  himself  exhorting  to  it :  and  there- 
fore not  only  when  desired  made  his  visits  to  all  such  as  stood  in 
need  of  those  his  charities,  but  prevented  their  requests  by  early 
and  frequent  coming  to  them.  And  this  he  was  so  careful  of, 
that  after  his  remove  from  Penshurst,  being  at  Oxford,  and 
hearing  of  the  sickness  of  one  of  his  parishioners,  he  from  thence 
sent  to  him  those  instructions  which  he  judged  useful  in  that 
exigent,  and  which  he  could  not  give  at  nearer  distance. 

For  the  institution  of  youth  in  the  rudiments  of  piety,  his 
custom  was  during  the  warmer  season  of  the  year,  to  spend  an 
hour  before  evening-prayer  in  catechising,  whereat  the  parents 
and  older  sort  were  wont  to  be  present,  and  from  whence  (as  he 
with  comfort  was  used  to  say)  they  reaped  more  benefit  than 
from  his  sermons.  Where  it  may  not  be  superfluous  to  observe 
that  he  introduced  no  new  form  of  catechism  *,  but  adhered  to 

1  Bought  them.']  Compare  Life  of  Bishop  Hall,  above,  p.  320. 

2  No  new  form  of  catechism.']  The  later  years  of  queen  Elizabeth,  and  tbe 
reign  of  king  James,  and,  though  in  a  less  degree,  that  of  king  Charles,  pro- 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  339 

that  of  the  church  ;  rendering  it  fully  intelligible  to  the  meanest 
capacities  by  his  explanations.    It  may  be  useful  withal  to  advert, 

duced  a  vast  multitude  of  catechisms,  written  by  independent  and  unautho- 
rized individuals,  which,  for  the  most  part,  were  composed  upon  very  narrow, 
and  Calvinistical  principles.  In  reference  to  some  of  these  Dr.  Thomas 
Jackson  says,  "  In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  every  day  bless  my  Lord  God,  as 
for  all  others,  so  in  particular  for  the  great  blessing  bestowed  upon  me,  that 
I  was  in  a  convenient  age,  in  a  happy  time  and  place,  presented  by  my  sure- 
ties in  baptism,  to  ratify  the  vow  which  they  made  for  me,  and  to  receive  the 
benediction  of  the  bishop  of  the  diocese :  being  first  instructed  in  the  Church's 
Catechism,  by  the  curate  of  the  parish,  from  whose  lips  (though  but  a  mere 
grammar  scholar,  and  one  that  knew  better  how  to  read  an  Homily,  or  to 
understand  Hemingius,  or  the  Latin  Postills,  than  to  make  a  sermon,  in 
English)  I  learned  more  good  lessons,  than  I  did  from  many  popular  ser- 
mons :  and  to  this  day  remember  more,  than  men  of  this  time  of  greater 
years  shall  find  in  many  late  applauded  Catechisms."  And  a  little  afterwards  : 
"Albeit  the  reverend  fathers  of  our  church,  and  their  suffragans,  should  use 
all  possible  care  and  diligence  for  performing  of  all  that  is  on  their  parts 
required,  yet  without  some  better  conformity  of  Catechisms,  and  reformation 
of  such  as  write  them,  or  preach  doctrines  conformable  to  them,  there  is  small 
hope,  that  in  such  plenty  of  preachers,  as  now  there  are,  this  work  of  the 
Lord  should  prosper  half  so  well,  as  it  did  in  those  times  and  in  those 
dioceses,  wherein  there  were  scarce  ten  able  preachers,  besides  the  preben- 
daries of  the  cathedral  church,  under  whose  tuition  in  a  manner  the  rest  of 
the  clergy  were  ....  The  writers  then  in  most  esteem  were  Melancthon, 
Bullinger,  Hemingius  (especially  in  Postills,  and  other  opuscula  of  his,)  or 
other  writers,  who  were  most  conformable  to  the  book  of  Homilies,  which 
were  weekly  read  upon  severe  penalty."  Jackson's  Works,  vol.  iii.  p.  273. 
In  like  manner  Wren,  bishop  of  Ely,  in  his  Answer  to  the  Articles  of  Impeach- 
ment, exhibited  against  him  [see  p.  307,  ante]  in  the  year  1641,  by  the  house 
of  commons,  for  some  alleged  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  saith,  "  That  he  did 
direct  that  the  said  catechizing  should  be  according  to  the  catechism  of  the 
church  of  England  only,  which  catechism  is  by  the  law  of  the  land  in  the 
rubrics  of  the  service-book  proposed  as  the  rule  of  examination  for  the  bishop 
to  go  by,  and  is  the  best  form  that  ever  was  compiled  for  laying  the  founda- 
tion and  grounds  of  religion  in  the  hearts  and  minds  of  unlearned  Christians. 
He  considered  also,  that  the  great  variety  of  catechisms  which  every  man  did  in 
former  time  thrust  out  at  his  pleasure,  did  distract  and  corrupt  the  minds  of 
the  people,  more  than  any  thing  else,  sowing  in  them  the  seeds  both  of  error 
and  faction.  And  he  conceived  it  an  unreasonable  thing,  that  in  the  church 
any  catechizing  should  be  publicly  practised,  but  according  to  the  catechism 
which  the  church  of  England  in  her  liturgy  alloweth.  The  due  observation 
whereof  was  so  far  from  suppressing  knowledge,  or  introducing  ignorance,  that 
the  defendant  is  humbly  confident  it  produced  the  quite  contrary  effects.  For 
some  godly  and  laborious  ministers  (by  name,  as  he  remembereth,  one  Mr. 
Crackenthoym  [Crackenthorpe  ?],  then  parson  of  Burton  Magna  in  Suffolk,  and 
another  of  his  diocese  neighbour,  with  him,  men  otherwise  unknown  to  this 

z  2 


340  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

that  if  in  those  times  catechetical  institution  were  very  season- 
able it  will  now  be  much  more ;  when  principles  have  been  ex- 
changed for  dreams  of  words  and  notions 2 ;  if  not  for  a  worse 
season  of  profane  contempt  of  Christian  truth.  But  to  return  ; 
besides  all  this,  that  there  might  be  no  imaginable  assistance 
wanting,  he  took  care  for  the  providing  an  able  schoolmaster  in 
the  parish,  which  he  continued  during  the  whole  time  of  his 
abode. 

And  as  he  thus  laboured  in  the  spiritual  building  up  of  souls, 
he  was  not  negligent  of  the  material  fabric  committed  to  his 
trust :  but  repaired  with  a  very  great  expence  (the  annual  charge 
of  100£.)  his  parsonage-house ;  till  from  an  incommodious  ruin  he 
had  rendered  it  a  fair  and  pleasant  dwelling,  with  the  adherent 
conveniences  of  gardens  and  orchards. 

While  he  was  thus  busy  on  his  charge,  though  he  so  prodigally 
laid  out  himself  upon  the  interests  of  his  flock,  as  he  might  seem 
to  have  nothing  left  for  other  purposes  ;  and  his  humility  recom- 
mended above  all  things  privacy  and  retirement  to  him :  yet 
when  the  uses  of  the  public  called  him  forth,  he  readily  obeyed 
the  summons,  and  frequently  preached  both  at  St.  Paul's  Cross, 
and  the  visitations  of  his  brethren  the  clergy,  (a  specimen  whereof 
appears  in  print,)  as  also  at  the  cathedral  church  of  Chichester, 
where  by  the  unsought-for  favour  of  the  reverend  father  in  God, 
Brian 4,  then  lord  bishop  of  that  see,  since  of  Winchester,  he  had 
an  interest,  and  had  the  dignity  of  arch-deacon :  which  at  the 
beginning  of  the  late  troubles  falling  to  him  \  he  managed  with 
great  zeal  and  prudence  ;  not  only  by  all  the  charms  of  Christian 

defendant)  came  to  visit  him,  and  told  him,  that  they  blessed  God  for  the  good, 
which  upon  half  a  year's  experience  they  had  found  therein,  professing  that  their 
people  had  sensibly  profited  more  by  this  catechizing  within  that  short  space, 
for  the  true  apprehending  and  understanding  the  grounds  of  religion,  than 
they  had  done  by  their  great  and  constant  labours  in  preaching  to  them  for 
some  years  before."  Wren's  Parent  alia,  p.  85. 

8  Words  and  notions."]  "  17  Sept.  (1655.)  On  Sunday  afternoon,  I  fre- 
quently stay'd  at  home  to  catechise  and  instruct  my  familie,  those  exercises 
universally  ceasing  in  the  parish  churches,  so  as  people  had  no  principles, 
and  grew  very  ignorant  of  even  the  common  points  of  Christianity,  all  devo- 
tion being  now  placed  in  hearing  sermons  and  discourses  of  speculative  and 
notional  things."  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  p.  287.  1818. 

4  Brian.'].  Brian  Duppa,  dean  of  Christ  Church;  bishop  of  Chichester, 
June  12,  1638;  bishop  of  Salisbury,  1641 ;  bishop  of  Winchester,  Sept.  10, 
1660;  died  March  26,  1662. 

6  Falling  to  him.]  In  the  year  1643.     Le  Neve's  Fasti,  p.  66. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  341 

rhetoric  persuading  to  obedience  and  union,  but  by  the  force  of 
demonstration  charging  it  as  most  indispensable  duty,  and  (what 
was  then  not  so  readily  believed)  the  greatest  temporal  interest 
of  the  inferior  clergy :  wherein  the  eminent  importance  of  the 
truths  he  would  inforce  so  far  prevailed  over  his  otherwise  insu- 
perable modesty,  that  in  a  full  assembly  of  the  clergy,  as  he 
afterwards  confessed,  he  broke  off  from  what  he  had  preme- 
ditated, and  out  of  the  abundance  of  his  heart  spoke  to  his 
auditory  ;  and  by  the  blessing  of  God,  to  which  he  attributed  it, 
found  a  very  signal  reception. 

In  the  year  1 639  he  proceeded  doctor  in  divinity ;  his  seniority 
in  the  university  and  employment  in  the  church  and  (what  per- 
chance was  a  more  importunate  motive)  the  desire  of  eleven  of 
his  friends  and  contemporaries  in  the  same  house,  whom  not  to 
accompany  might  be  interpreted  an  affected  pride  and  singularity, 
at  least  an  unkindness,  jointly  persuading  him  to  it. 

His  performance  in  the  act,  where  he  answered  the  doctors, 
was  to  the  equal  satisfaction  and  wonder  of  his  hearers;  a 
country-life  usually  contracting  at  the  least  an  unreadiness  to 
the  dexterous  management  of  those  exercises,  which  was  an 
effect  undiscernible  in  him. 

About  this  time  he  became  a  member  of  the  convocation  called 
with  the  short  parliament  in  1 640  ;  as  after  this  he  was  named 
to  be  of  the  assembly  of  divines ;  his  invincible  loyalty  to  his 
prince  and  obedience  to  his  mother  the  church  not  being  so  valid 
arguments  against  his  nomination,  as  the  repute  of  his  learning 
and  virtue  were  on  the  other  part,  to  have  some  title  to  him. 

And  now  that  conformity  became  a  crime,  and  tumults 
improving  into  hostility  and  war,  such  a  crime  as  had  chastise- 
ments severe  enough;  though  the  committee  of  the  country 
summoned  him  before  them,  and  used  those  their  best  arguments 
of  persuasion,  threatenings  and  reproaches,  he  still  went  on  in 
his  regular  practice,  and  continued  it  till  the  middle  of  July  1 643. 
At  which  time  there  being  in  his  neighbourhood  about  Tunbridge 
an  attempt  in  behalf  of  the  king,  and  his  doctrine  and  example 
having  had  that  good  influence,  as  it  was  supposed,  to  have  made 
many  more  ready  to  the  discharge  of  their  duty ;  it  being  defeated, 
the  good  doctor  (the  malice  of  one  who  designed  to  succeed  in 
his  living  being  withal  assistant)  was  forced  to  secure  himself  by 
retirement ;  which  he  did,  withdrawing  himself  to  his  old  tutor 
Dr.  Buckner  ;  to  whom  he  came  about  the  25th  of  July,  early  in 


342  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

the  morning,  in  such  an  habit  as  that  exigence  made  necessary 
for  him ;  and  whither  not  many  days  before  his  old  friend  and 
fellow-pupil  Dr.  Oliver  came  upon  the  same  errand.  Which 
accident,  and  the  necessity  to  leave  his  flock,  as  the  doctor  after- 
wards frequently  acknowledged,  was  that  which  did  most  affect 
him  of  any  that  he  felt  in  his  whole  life :  amidst  which,  though 
he  was  no  valuer  of  trifles,  or  any  thing  that  looked  like  such, 
he  had  so  extraordinary  a  dream,  that  he  could  not  then  despise, 
nor  ever  afterwards  forget  it. 

It  was  thus.  He  thought  himself  and  a  multitude  of  others  to 
have  been  abroad  in  a  bright  and  cheerful  day,  when  on  a  sudden 
there  seemed  a  separation  to  be  made,  and  he  with  the  far  less 
number  to  be  placed  at  a  distance  from  the  rest ;  and  then  the 
clouds  gathering,  a  most  tempestuous  storm  arose,  with  thun- 
dering and  lightnings,  with  spouts  of  impetuous  rain,  and  violent 
gusts  of  wind,  and  whatever  else  might  add  unto  a  scene  of 
horror  ;  particularly  balls  of  fire  that  shot  themselves  among  the 
ranks  of  those  that  stood  in  the  lesser  party ;  when  a  gentle  whisper 
seemed  to  interrupt  those  other  louder  noises,  saying,  "  Be  still, 
and  ye  shall  receive  no  harm."  Amidst  these  terrors  the  doctor 
falling  to  his  prayers,  soon  after  the  tempest  ceased,  and  that 
known  cathedral  anthem  began,  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  away ; 
with  which  he  awoke.  The  correspondent  event  of  all  which  he 
found  verified  signally  in  the  preservation  both  of  himself  and  his 
friends,  in  doing  of  their  duties  ;  the  which  with  much  content  he 
was  used  to  mention.  Beside,  being  himself  taken  to  the  quires  of 
angels  at  the  close  of  that  land  hurricane  of  ours,  whereof  that 
dismal  apparition  was  only  a  faint  emblem,  he  gave  thereby  too 
literal  a  completion  to  his  dream,  and  the  unhappy  credit  of 
bordering  upon  prophecy. 

In  this  retirement  the  two  doctors  remained  about  three 
weeks,  till  an  alarm  was  brought  that  a  strict  enquiry  was  made 
for  doctor  Hammond,  and  100?.  promised  as  a  reward  for  him 
that  should  produce  him.  Which  suggestion  though  they  easily 
apprehended  to  have  a  possibility  of  being  false,  yet  they  con- 
cluded a  necessary  ground  for  their  remove. 

Upon  this  they  resolve  to  be  gone  ;  and  Dr.  Oliver  having  an 
interest  in  Winchester,  which  was  then  in  the  king^s  quarters, 
they  chose  that  as  the  next  place  of  their  retreat.     But  being  on 
the  way  thither,  Dr.  Oliver,  who  had  sent  his  servant  befor. 
make  provision  for  them,  was  met  and  saluted  with  the  news  that 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  343 

doctor  Frewen,  president  of  Magdalen  college,  was  made  bishop 
of  Litchfield,  and  that  the  college  had  pitched  upon  him  as  suc- 
cessor. This  unlooked-for  accident  -(as  justly  it  might)  put 
doctor  Oliver  to  new  counsels  ;  and  since  Providence  had  found 
out  so  seasonable  a  relief,  inclined  him  not  to  desert  it,  but  fly 
rather  to  his  preferments  and  advantage,  than  merely  to  his 
refuge,  and  so  to  divert  to  Oxford.  To  this  Dr.  Hammond  made 
much  difficulty  to  assent,  thinking  that  too  public  a  place,  and, 
what  he  more  considered,  too  far  from  his  living,  whither  (his 
desires  strongly  inclining  him)  he  had  hopes  (when  the  present 
fury  was  allayed)  to  return  again ;  and  to  that  purpose  had 
written  to  such  friends  of  his  as  were  in  power,  to  use  their  in- 
terest for  the  procuring  his  security.  But  his  letters  meeting  a 
cold  reception,  and  the  company  of  his  friend  on  one  hand,  and 
the  appearance  of  deserting  him  on  the  other  hand,  charming 
him  to  it,  he  was  at  last  persuaded ;  and  encompassing  Hamp- 
shire, with  some  difficulty  came  to  Oxford  ;  where  procuring  an . 
apartment  in  his  old  college,  he  sought  that  peace  in  his  retire- 
ment and  study  which  was  no  where  else  to  be  met  withal ; 
taking  no  other  diversion  than  what  the  giving  encouragement 
and  instruction  to  ingenious  young  students  yielded  him,  (a  thing 
wherein  he  peculiarly  delighted)  and  the  satisfaction  which  he 
received  from  the  conversation  of  learned  men,  who,  besides  the 
usual  store,  in  great  number  at  that  time  for  their  security 
resorted  thither. 

Among  the  many  eminent  persons  with  whom  he  here  con- 
versed, he  had  particular  intimacy  with  Dr.  Potter,  provost  of 
Queen's  college,  to  whom,  among  other  fruits  of  his  studies,  he 
communicated  his  Practical  Catechism,  which  for  his  private  use 
he  had  drawn  up.  The  provost,  much  taken  with  the  design, 
and  no  less  with  the  performance,  importuned  him  to  make  it 
public  ;  alleging,  in  that  lawless  age  the  great  use  of  supplanting 
the  empty  form  of  godliness  which  so  prevailed,  by  substituting 
of  its  real  power  and  sober  duties ;  of  silencing  prophaneness, 
which  then  usurped  the  names  of  wit  and  gallantry,  by  enforcing 
the  more  eligible  acts  of  the  Christian's  reasonable  service ; 
which  was  not  any  other  way  so  happily  to  be  done  as  by  begin- 
ning at  the  foundation  by  sound,  and  yet  not  trivial,  catechetic 
institution. 

It  was  not  hard  to  convince  Dr.  Hammond  that  it  were  well 
if  some  such  thing  were  done  ;  but  that  his  writing  would  do  this 


344  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

in  any  measure,  or  that  he  should  suffer  his  name  to  become 
public,  it  was  impossible  to  persuade  him.  The  utmost  he  could 
be  brought  to  allow  of  was,  that  his  treatise  was  not  likely  to  do 
harm,  but  had  possibilities  of  doing  (it  might  be)  some  good,  and 
that  it  would  not  become  him  to  deny  that  service  to  the  world ; 
especially  if  his  modesty  might  be  secured  from  pressure  by  the 
concealing  of  him  to  be  the  author.  And  this  doctor  Potter, 
that  he  might  leave  no  subterfuge,  undertook,  and  withal  the 
whole  care  of,  and  besides  the  whole  charge  of  the  edition.  Upon 
these  terms,  only  with  this  difference,  that  doctor  Hammond 
would  not  suffer  the  provost  to  be  at  the  entire  charge,  but  went 
an  equal  share  with  him,  the  Practical  Catechism  saw  the  light, 
and  likewise  the  author  remained  in  his  desired  obscurity. 

But  in  the  mean  time  the  book  finding  the  reception  which  it 
merited8,  the  good  doctor  was  by  the  same  arguments  con- 
strained to  give  way  to  the  publishing  of  several  other  tracts 
which  he  had  written  upon  heads  that  were  then  most  perverted 
by  popular  error,  as  of  Conscience,  of  Scandal,  of  Will-worship,  of 
Resisting  the  lawful  Magistrate,  and  of  the  Change  of  Church 
Government ;  his  name  all  this  while  concealed,  and  so  preserved, 
till  curiosity  improving  its  guesses  into  confident  asseverations, 
he  was  rumoured  for  the  author,  and  as  such  published  to  the 
world  by  the  London  and  Cambridge  stationers,  who  without  his 
knowledge  reprinted  those  and  other  of  his  works. 

In  the  interim  a  treaty  being  laboured  by  his  majesty,  to  com- 
pose (if  it  were  possible)  the  unhappy  differences  in  church  and 
state,  and  in  order  thereunto  the  duke  of  Richmond  and  earl  of 
Southampton  being  sent  to  London,  doctor  Hammond  went  along 

6  Which  it  merited.'}  "  King  Charles  I.  in  his  last  instructions  to  his 
children,  recommended  this  among  other  eminent  books,  as  a  most  safe  and 
sound  guide  in  religion  :  and  his  choice  has  been  fully  approved  by  his  sub- 
jects. We  see  that  while  other  institutions  of  Christian  religion  are  in  vogue 
for  a  time,  and  afterwards  become  antiquated  and  neglected,  this  rather  grows 
than  decays  in  its  reputation,  being  composed  with  such  solid  learning,  judg- 
ment, and  piety,  as  will  always  endear  it  to  serious  persons  of  every  rank  and 
condition." — Life  of  Dr.  Hammond,  prefixed  to  the  Practical  Catechism. 
"  I  also  remember,"  (says  Whiston,  in  the  Memoirs  of  his  own  Life,  vol.  i. 
p.  10)  "  what  my  father  told  me;  that  after  the  restoration,  almost  all  pro- 
fession of  seriousness  in  religion  would  have  been  laughed  out  of  counte- 
nance, under  pretence  of  the  hypocrisy  of  the  former  times,  had  not  two  very 
excellent  and  serious  books,  written  by  eminent  royalists,  put  some  stop  to 
it  :  I  mean  The  whole  Duty  of  Man  ;  and  Dr.  Hammond's  Practical  Catechism.'1 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  345 

as  chaplain  to  them,  where  with  great  zeal  and  prudence  he 
laboured  to  undeceive  those  seduced  persons  whom  he  had  oppor- 
tunity to  converse  with :  and  when  the  treaty  was  solemnly  ap- 
pointed at  Uxbridge7,  several  divines  being  sent  thither  in 
behalf  of  the  different  parties,  he,  among  other  excellent  men 
that  adhered  to  the  king,  was  made  choice  of  to  assist  in  that 
employment.  And  there  (not  to  mention  the  debates  between 
the  commissioners,  which  were  long  since  published  by  an  honour- 
able hand)  doctor  Steward  and  master  Henderson  were  at  first 
only  admitted  to  dispute ;  though  at  the  second  meeting  the 
other  divines  were  called  in :  which  thing  was  a  surprize,  and 
designed  for  such,  to  those  of  the  king's  part,  who  came  as  chap- 
lains and  private  attendants  on  the  lords,  but  was  before  projected 
and  prepared  for  by  those  of  the  presbyterian  way.  And  in  this 
conflict  it  was  the  lot  of  doctor  Hammond  to  have  master  Vines 
for  his  antagonist,  who,  instead  of  tendering  a  scholastic  disputa- 
tion, read  from  a  paper  a  long  divinity  lecture,  wherein  were 
interwoven  several  little  cavils  and  exceptions,  which  were  meant 
for  arguments.  Doctor  Hammond  perceiving  this,  drew  forth 
his  pen  and  ink,  and  as  the  other  was  reading,  took  notes  of  what 
was  said,  and  then  immediately  returned  in  order  an  answer  to 
the  several  suggestions,  which  were  about  forty  in  number: 
which  he  did  with  that  readiness  and  sufficiency  as  at  once  gave 
testimony  to  his  ability,  and  to  the  evidence  of  the  truth  he 
asserted ;  which,  amidst  the  disadvantage  of  extempore  against 
premeditation,  dispelled  with  ease  and  perfect  clearness  all  the 
sophisms  that  had  been  brought  against  him. 

It  is  not  the  present  work  to  give  an  account  of  that  whole 
dispute,  or  character  the  merits  of  those  worthy  persons  who 
were  engaged  in  it,  either  in  that  or  the  succeeding  meetings  ; 
especially  since  it  was  resolved  by  both  parties  that  the  trans- 
actions of  neither  side  should  be  made  public.  But  notwithstand- 
ing this,  since  divers  persons  addicted  to  the  defence  of  a  side, 
without  any  further  consideration  of  truth  or  common  honesty, 
have  in  this  particular  wounded  the  doctor's  reputation,  I  shall 
take  leave  to  say,  that  had  the  victories  in  the  field,  which  were 
managed  by  the  sword,  been  like  this  of  the  chamber  and  the 
tongue,  a  very  easy  act  of  oblivion  must  have  atoned  for  them  ; 
since  what  never  was,  without  much  industry  might  be  secured 
from  being  remembered.  The  impudent  falsity  raised  upon  the 
7  At  Uxbridge.]  See  Clarendon's  Hist,  of  the  Rebellion,  book  viii. 


346  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

doctor  was  this,  that  Mr.  Vines  utterly  silenced  him ;  insomuch 
that  he  was  fain  to  use  this  unheard-of  stratagem  to  avoid  his 
adversary^  demonstration,  to  swear  by  God  and  the  holy  angels, 
that  though  at  present  a  solution  did  not  occur  to  him,  he  could 
answer  it.  Concerning  this  we  have  the  doctor's  own  account  in 
a  letter  of  his,  bearing  date  Jan.  22,  ann.  1655,  directed  to  a 
friend  who  had  advertised  him  of  this  report. 

"  I  have  formerly  been  told  within  these  few  years  that  there 
went  about  a  story  much  to  my  disparagement,  concerning  the 
dispute  at  Uxbridge  (for  there  it  was,  not  at  Holdenby)  with 
Mr.  Vines ;  but  what  it  was  I  could  never  hear  before  :  now  I  do, 
I  can,  I  think,  truly  affirm,  that  no  one  part  of  it  hath  any  degree 
of  truth,  save  only  that  Mr.  Vines  did  dispute  against,  and  I 
defend,  episcopacy.  For  as  to  the  argument  mentioned,  I  did 
never  then,  nor  at  any  time  of  my  life,  (that  I  can  remember) 
ever  hear  it  urged  by  any.  And  for  my  pretended  answer,  I  am 
both  sure  that  I  never  called  God  and  his  holy  angels  to  witness 
any  thing  in  my  life,  nor  ever  swore  one  voluntary  oath  that  I 
know  of,  (and  sure  there  was  then  none  imposed  on  me)  and  that 
I  was  not  at  that  meeting  conscious  to  myself  of  wanting  ability 
to  express  my  thoughts,  or  pressed  with  any  considerable  diffi- 
culty, or  forced  by  any  consideration  to  wave  the  answer  of  any 
thing  objected.  A  story  of  that  whole  affair  I  am  yet  able  to  tell 
you,  but  I  cannot  think  it  necessary.  Only  this  I  may  add,  that 
after  it  I  went  to  Mr.  Marshall  in  my  own  and  brethren's  name, 
to  demand  three  things :  1.  Whether  any  argument  proposed  by 
them  remained  unanswered,  to  which  we  might  yield  farther 
answer  ?  2.  Whether  they  intended  to  make  any  report  of  the 
past  disputation  ;  offering,  if  they  would,  to  join  with  them  in  it, 
and  to  perfect  a  conference  by  mutual  consent,  after  the  manner 
of  that  between  Dr.  Reynolds  and  Mr.  Hart 8  ?  both  which  being 
rejected,  the  3d  was,  to  promise  each  other  that  nothing  should 
be  afterwards  published  by  either  without  the  consent  or  know- 
ledge of  the  other  party.  And  that  last  he  promised  for  himself 
and  his  brethren,  and  so  we  parted.11 

But  while  these  things  were  in  doing,  a  canonry  in  Cli 
church  in  Oxford  became  vacant,  which  the  king  immediately 
bestowed 9  on  doctor  Hammond,  though  then  absent ;  whom  like- 

8  And  Mr.  Hart.]  See  above,  L\fe  of  Hooker,  vol.  iii.  ji.  406,  note. 

9  Immediately  bestowed.]   This  was  in  the  year  1044.     Le  Neve's  Fasti, 
p.  234. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  347 

wise  the  university  chose  their  public  orator :  which  preferments, 
though  collated  so  freely,  and  in  a  time  of  exigence,  he  was  with 
much  difficulty  wrought  upon  by  his  friends  to  accept,  as  minding 
nothing  so  much  as  a  return  to  his  old  charge  at  Penshurst. 
But  the  impossibility  of  a  sudden  opportunity  of  going  thither 
being  evident  unto  him,  he  at  last  accepted ;  and  was  soon  after 
made  chaplain  in  ordinary  to  his  majesty. 

But  these  new  employments  no  way  diverted  him  from  his 
former  tasks ;  for,  according  to  his  wonted  method,  he  continued 
to  address  remedies  to  the  increasing  mischiefs  of  the  times,  and 
published  the  tracts  of  Superstition,  Idolatry,  Sins  of  Weakness 
and  Wilfulness,  Death-led  Repentance,  View  of  the  Directory ;  as 
also  in  answer  to  a  Komanist,  who,  taking  advantage  of  the  pub- 
lic ruin,  hoped  to  erect  thereon  trophies  to  the  Capitol,  his  Vin- 
dication of  the  Lord  Falkland,  who  was  not  long  before  fallen  in 
another  kind  of  war. 

But  now  the  king's  affairs  declining  every  where,  and  Oxford 
being  forced  upon  articles  to  surrender  to  the  enemy,  where  after 
the  expiration  of  six  months  all  things  were  to  be  left  to  the  lust 
and  fury  of  a  servile,  and  therefore  insolent,  conqueror ;  though 
he  foresaw  a  second  and  more  fatal  siege  approaching,  a  leaguer 
of  encamped  inevitable  mischiefs,  yet  he  remitted  nothing  of  his 
wonted  industry,  writing  his  tracts  of  Fraternal  Correction,  and 
Power  of  the  Keys,  and  Apologies  by  Letter  against  the  pulpit 
calumnies  of  Mr.  Cheynel,  and  the  exceptions  taken  at  his  Prac- 
tical Catechism. 

In  the  mean  time  his  sacred  majesty,  sold  by  his  Scottish  into 
the  hands  of  his  English  subjects,  and  brought  a  prisoner  to 
Holdenby,  where,  stripped  of  all  his  royal  attendants,  and  denied 
that  common  charity  which  is  afforded  the  worst  of  malefactors, 
the  assistance  of  divines  *,  though  he  with  importunity  desired  it, 
he  being  taken  from  the  parliament  commissioners  into  the  pos- 
session of  the  army,  at  last  obtained  that  kindness  from  them 2, 

1  The  assistance  of  divines.]  Compare  Icon  Basilikd,  chap.  xxiv.    Upon  their 
denying  his  majesty  the  attendance  of  his  chaplains. 

2  That  kindness  from  them.']    See  Baxter's  Life  and  Times,  part  i.  p.  60. 
"  While  the  king  was  at  Hampton  Court  the  mutable  hypocrites  first  pre- 
tended an  extraordinary  care  of  his  honour,  liberty,  safety,  and  conscience. 
They  blamed  the  austerity  of  the  parliament,  who  had  denied  him  the  attendance 
of  his  own  chaplains,  and  of  bis  friends  in  whom  he  took  most  pleasure. 
They  gave  liberty  for  his  friends  and  chaplains  to  come  to  him :  they  pre- 


348  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

(who  were  to  be  cruel  at  another  rate)  which  was  withheld  by  the 
two  houses,  and  was  permitted  the  service  of  some  few  of  his 
chaplains,  whom  he  by  name  had  sent  for,  and  among  them  of 
doctor  Hammond. 

Accordingly  the  good  doctor  attended  on  his  master  in  the 
several  removes  of  Woburn,  Caversham,  and  Hampton  Court,  as 
also  thence  into  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where  he  continued  till  Christ- 
mas 1647;  at  which  time  his  majesty's  attendants  were  again 
put  from  him,  and  he  amongst  the  rest. 

Sequestered  from  this  his  melancholic  but  most  desired  employ- 
ment, he  returned  again  to  Oxford ;  where  being  chosen  sub- 
dean,  an  office  to  which  belongs  much  of  the  scholastic  govern- 
ment of  the  college,  and  soon  after  proved  to  be  the  whole,  (the 
dean 3,  for  the  guilt  of  asserting  the  rights  of  his  majesty  and  the 
university  in  his  station  of  vice-chancellor,  being  made  a  prisoner,) 
he  undertook  the  entire  management  of  all  affairs,  and  discharged 
it  with  great  sufficiency  and  admirable  diligence,  leaving  his 
beloved  studies  to  interest  himself  not  only  in  moderating  at  divi- 
nity disputations,  which  was  then  an  immediate  part  of  his  task, 
but  in  presiding  at  the  more  youthful  exercises  of  sophistry, 
themes,  and  declamations ;  redeeming  still  at  night  these  vacui- 
ties of  the  day,  scarce  ever  going  to  bed  till  after  midnight,  some- 
times not  till  three  in  the  morning,  and  yet  certainly  rising  to 
prayers  at  five. 

Nor  did  his  inspection  content  itself  in  looking  to  the  general 
performances  of  duty,  but  descended  to  an  accurate  survey  of 

tended  that  they  would  save  him  from  the  incivilities  of  the  parliament  and 
Presbyterians.  Whether  this  were  while  they  tried  what  terms  they  could 
make  with  him  for  themselves,  or  while  they  acted  any  other  part :  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  king's  old  adherents  began  to  extol  the  army,  and  to  speak 
against  the  Presbyterians  more  distastefully  than  before.  When  the  parlia- 
ment offered  the  king  propositions  for  concord,  (which  Vane's  faction  made 
as  high  and  unreasonable  as  they  could,  that  they  might  come  to  nothing) 
the  army  forsooth  offer  him  proposals  of  their  own,  which  the  king  liked 
better :  but  which  of  them  to  treat  with  he  did  not  know.  At  last,  on  the 
sudden  the  judgment  of  the  army  changed,  and  they  began  to  cry  for  justice 
against  the  king ;  and  with  vile  hypocrisy,  to  publish  their  repentance,  and 
to  cry  God  mercy  for  their  kindness  to  the  king,  and  confess  that  they  were 
under  a  temptation :  but  in  all  this,  Cromwell  and  Ireton,  and  the  rest  of  the 
council  of  war  appeared  not :  the  instruments  of  all  this  work  must  be  the 
common  soldiers." 

3  The  dean.]  Dr.  Samuel  Fell,  father  of  bishop  Fell,  the  author  of  this  Life 
of  Dr.  Hammond.  See  Walker's  Sufferings  of  the  Clergy,  p.  102. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  349 

every  one's  both  practice  and  ability ;  so  that  this  large  society 
of  scholars  appeared  his  private  family,  he  scarce  leaving  any 
single  person  without  some  mark  or  other  of  both  his  charity  and 
care,  relieving  the  necessitous  in  their  several  wants  of  money  and 
of  books,  shaming  the  vicious  to  sobriety,  encouraging  the  inge- 
nuous to  diligence,  and  finding  stratagems  to  ensnare  the  idle  to 
a  love  of  study.  But  above  all  he  endeavoured  to  prepare  his 
charge  for  the  reception  of  the  impending  persecution,  that  they 
might  adorn  their  profession,  and  not  at  the  same  time  suffer  for 
a  cause  of  righteousness,  and  as  evil-doers. 

To  this  end  he  both  admitted  and  solemnly  invited  all  sober 
persons  to  his  familiarity  and  converse ;  and  besides  that,  received 
them  to  his  weekly  private  office  of  fasting  and  humiliation. 

But  now  the  long-expected  ruin  breaking  in  with  its  full  weight 
and  torrent,  the  visitors 4  chafed  with  their  former  disappointments 
and  delays,  coming  with  hunters'  stomachs,  and  design  to  boot, 
for  to  seize  first  and  then  devour  the  prey,  by  a  new  method  of 
judicature  being  to  kill  and  then  take  possession,  the  excellent 
doctor  became  involved  in  the  general  calamity.  And  whereas 
the  then  usual  law  of  expulsion  was  immediately  to  banish  into 
the  wide  world  by  beat  of  drum  enjoining  to  quit  the  town  within 
24  hours,  upon  pain  of  being  taken  and  used  as  spies,  and  not  to 
allow  the  unhappy  exiles  time  for  the  dispose  either  of  their  pri- 
vate affairs,  or  stating  the  accounts  of  their  respective  colleges  or 
pupils ;  the  reverend  doctor  Sheldon 5,  now  lord  bishop  of  London, 
and  dean  of  his  majesty's  chapel  royal,  and  doctor  Hammond, 
were  submitted  to  a  contrary  fate,  and  by  an  order  from  a  com- 
mittee of  parliament  were  restrained  and  voted  to  be  prisoners  in 
that  place,  from  which  all  else  were  so  severely  driven.  But  such 
was  the  authority  and  command  of  exemplary  virtue,  that  the 
person  designed  to  succeed  in  the  canonry  of  Christ  church, 
though  he  had  accepted  of  the  place  at  London,  and  done  his 
exercise  for  it  at  Oxford,  acting  as  public  orator  in  flattering  there 
the  then-pretending  chancellor,  yet  he  had  not  courage  to  pursue 

4  The  visitors.']  For  a  full  account  of  the  Oxford  Visitation,  see  Walker's 
Sufferings  of  the  Clergy,  part  i.  p.  122 — 44.     Wood's  Hist,  and  Antiquities, 
&c.  vol.  ii.  p.  501 — 618.  4to.  edit.     Ayliffe's  Antient  and  present  state  of  the 
University  of  Oxford,  vol.  i.  p.  21 3 — 39. 

5  Sheldon.']  Gilbert  Sheldon,  prebendary  of  Gloucester;  bishop  of  London, 
October  23,  1660;  archbishop  of  Canterbury  July  14,  1663;  died  November 
9,  1677. 


350  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

his  undertaking,  but  voluntarily  relinquished  that  infamous  rob- 
bery, and  adhered  to  a  less  scandalous  one  in  the  country.  And 
then  the  officer  who  was  commanded  to  take  doctor  Sheldon  and 
him  into  custody  upon  their  designed  removal,  colonel  Evelin,  then 
governor  of  Wallingford-castle,  (though  a  man  of  as  opposite 
principles  to  church  and  churchmen  as  any  of  the  adverse  party) 
wholly  declined  the  employment,  solemnly  protesting,  that  if  they 
came  to  him  they  should  be  entertained  as  friends,  and  not  as 
prisoners. 

But  these  remorses  proved  but  of  little  effect ;  the  prebend  of 
Christ  Church  being  suddenly  supplied  by  a  second  choice,  and 
Oxford  itself  being  continued  the  place  of  their  confinement: 
where  accordingly  the  good  doctor  remained,  though  he  were  de- 
manded by  his  majesty  to  attend  him  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  at  the 
treaty  there,  which  then  was  again  reinforced.  The  pretence 
upon  which  both  he  and  the  reverend  doctor  Sheldon  were  refused 
was,  that  they  were  prisoners ;  and  probably  the  gaining  that  was 
the  cause  why  they  were  so.  But  notwithstanding  the  denial  of  a 
personal  attendance,  the  excellent  prince  required  that  assistance 
which  might  consist  with  absence,  and  at  this  time  sent  for  a 
copy  of  that  sermon  which  almost  a  year  before  he  had  heard 
preached  in  that  place.  The  which  sermon  his  majesty,  and 
thereby  the  public,  received  with  the  accession  of  several  others 
delivered  upon  various  occasions. 

Doctor  Hammond  having  continued  about  ten  weeks  in  his 
restraint  in  Oxford,  where  he  began  to  actuate  his  design  of  writ- 
ing Annotations  on  the  New  Testament,  (nor  was  it  dispropor- 
tionate that  those  sacred  volumes,  a  great  part  of  which  was 
written  in  bonds,  should  be  first  commented  upon  by  the  very 
parallel  suffering,  and  that  the  work  itself  should  be  so  dedicated, 
and  the  expositor  fitted  for  his  task  by  being  made  like  the  author) 
by  the  interposition  of  his  brother-in-law,  sir  John  Temple,  he  had 
licence  granted  to  be  removed  to  a  more  acceptable  confinement, 
to  Clapham  in  Bedfordshire,  the  house  in  which  his  worthy  friend 
sir  Philip  Warwick  lived.  Where  soon  after  his  arrival,  that 
horrid  mockery  of  justice,  the  rape  and  violence  of  all  that  is 
sacred,  made  more  abominable  by  pretending  to  right  and  piety, 
the  trial  of  the  king,  drew  on ;  and  he  being  in  no  other  capacity 
to  interpose  than  by  writing,  drew  up  an  Address  to  the  general 
and  council  of  officers,  and  transmitted  it  to  them.  And  when 
that  unexampled  VILLAINY  found  this  excuse,  that  it  was  such 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  351 

as  could  be  pleaded  for,  and  men  in  cool  blood  would  dare  to  own 
and  justify,  he  affixed  his  Reply  to  the  suggestions  of  Ascham 
and  Goodwin.  And  now,  although  he  indulged  to  his  just  and 
almost  infinite  griefs,  which  were  transported  to  the  utmost 
bounds  of  sober  passion,  the  affectionate  personal  respect  he  bore 
unto  that  glorious  victim  being  added  to  the  detestation  due  unto 
the  guilt  itself,  of  which  no  man  was  more  sensible  than  he,  who 
had  strange  antipathies  to  all  sin,  he  gave  not  up  himself  to  an 
unactive  dull  amazement,  but  with  the  redoubled  use  of  fasting, 
tears,  and  solemn  prayer,  he  resumed  his  wonted  studies ;  and 
besides  his  fitting  the  Annotations  for  the  press,  and  his  little 
tract  of  the  Reasonableness  of  Christian  Beligion,  he  now  composed 
his  Latin  one  against  Blondel  in  the  behalf  of  episcopacy.  As  to 
the  first  of  which,  (his  Annotations,)  the  manner  of  its  birth  and 
growth  was  thus : 

Having  written  in  Latin  two  large  volumes  in  quarto  of  the 
way  of  interpreting  the  New  Testament,  with  reference  to  the 
customs  of  the  Jews  and  of  the  first  heretics  in  the  Christian 
church,  and  of  the  heathens,  especially  in  the  Grecian  games,  and 
above  all  the  importance  of  the  Hellenistical  dialect,  into  which 
he  had  made  the  exactest  search  (by  which  means  in  a  manner  he 
happened  to  take  in  all  the  difficulties  of  that  sacred  book :)  he 
began  to  consider  that  it  might  be  more  useful  to  the  English 
reader,  who  was  to  be  his  immediate  care,  to  write  in  our  vulgar 
language  and  set  every  observation  in  its  natural  order,  according 
to  the  guidance  of  the  text.  And  having  some  years  before  col- 
lated several  Greek  copies  of  the  New  Testament,  observed  the 
variation  of  our  English  from  the  original,  and  made  an  entire 
translation  of  the  whole  for  his  private  use  ;  being  thus  prepared, 
he  cast  his  work  into  that  form  in  which  it  now  appears.  The 
reasons  of  it  need  not  to  be  here  inserted,  being  set  down  by  his 
own  pen  in  his  preface  to  his  Annotations. 

The  tractate  against  Blondel  grew  to  its  last  form  and  constitu- 
tion by  not  unlike  degrees,  having  a  very  different  occasion  from 
the  last  performance.  The  immediate  antecedent  cause  is  owned, 
and  long  ago  presented  to  the  world  in  that  writing  ;  the  more 
remote  original  is  as  follows.  The  late  most  learned  primate  of 
Armagh  having  received  from  David  Blondel  a  letter  of  exception 
against  his  edition  of  Ignatius,  he  communicated  it  to  doctor 
Hammond,  desiring  his  sense  of  several  passages  therein  con- 
tained, relating  to  the  Valentinian  heresy,  episcopal  and  chor- 


352  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

episcopal  power,  and  some  emergent  difficulties  concerning  them, 
from  the  canons  of  several  Eastern  councils.  To  all  this  the 
doctor  wrote  a  peculiar  answer,  promising  a  fuller  account  if  it 
would  be  useful.  Upon  the  receipt  whereof  the  archbishop  being 
highly  satisfied,  returned  his  thanks,  and  laid  hold  of  the  promise ; 
which  being  accordingly  discharged,  became  the  provision  (and 
gave  materials)  to  a  great  part  of  the  dissertations.  The  primate's 
letter  ran  in  these  words : 

"  I  have  read  with  great  delight  and  content  your  accurate 
Answer  to  the  Objections  made  against  the  credit  of  Ignatius's 
Epistles,  for  which  T  do  most  heartily  thank  you,  and  am  moved 
thereby  farther  to  intreat  you  to  publish  to  the  world  in  Latin 
what  you  have  already  written  in  English  against  this  objector, 
and  that  other,  who  for  your  pains  hath  rudely  requitted  you 
with  the  base  appellation  of  Nebulo  for  the  assertion  of  epis- 
copacy :  to  the  end  it  may  no  longer  be  credited  abroad  that 
these  two  have  so  beaten  down  this  calling,  that  the  defence 
thereof  is  now  deserted  by  all  men,  as  by  Lud.  Capellus  is  inti- 
mated in  his  thesis  of  church  government,  at  Sedan  lately  pub- 
lished ;  which  I  leave  unto  your  serious  consideration,  and  all 
your  godly  labours  to  the  blessing  of  our  good  God,  in  whom  I 
evermore  rest, 

"  Your  very  loving  friend 

and  brother, 

"  Eeygate  in  Surrey*  "  JA.  ARMACHANUS." 

July  21,  1649." 

Now  in  this  request  the  archbishop  was  so  concerned,  that  he 
reinforced  it  by  another  letter  of  Aug.  30,  and  congratulated  the 
performance  by  a  third  of  Jan.  14.  Both  which,  though  very 
worthy  to  see  the  public  light,  are  yet  forborne,  as  several  of  the 
like  kind  from  the  reverend  fathers  and  bishops  of  this,  and  our 
sister  churches,  as  also  from  the  most  eminent  for  piety  and 
learning  of  our  own  and  the  neighbouring  nations :  which  course 
is  taken  not  only  in  accordance  to  the  desires  and  sentiments  of 
the  excellent  doctor,  who  hated  every  thing  that  looked  like 
ostentation  ;  but  likewise  to  avoid  the  very  unpleasing  choice, 
either  to  take  the  trouble  of  recounting  all  the  doctor's  cor- 
respondencies, or  bear  the  envy  of  omitting  some. 

But  to  return  to  the  present  task  and  that  of  the  good  doctor, 
which  now  was  to  perfect  his  Commentaries  on  the  New  Testa- 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  353 

ment,  and  finish  the  Dissertations  :  amidst  which  cares  he  met 
with  another  of  a  more  importunate  nature,  the  loss  of  his  dear 
mother,  which  had  this  unhappy  accession,  that  in  her  sickness 
he  could  not  be  permitted,  by  reason  of  his  being  concerned  in 
the  proclamation  that  banished  those  that  adhered  to  the  king 
twenty  miles  from  London,  to  visit  her  ;  nor  while  she  paid  her 
latest  debt  to  nature,  to  pay  his  earlier  one  of  filial  homage  and 
attendance. 

A  few  months  after,  the  rigour  of  that  restraint  with  the 
declining  of  the  year  (a  season  judged  less  commodious  for  enter- 
prise) being  taken  off,  he  removed  into  Worcestershire,  to  West- 
wood,  the  house  of  the  eminently  loyal  sir  John  Pakington  ;  where 
being  settled  and  proceeding  in  the  edition  of  those  his  labours 
which  he  had  begun  at  Clapham,  his  majesty  coming  to  Wor- 
cester, by  his  neighbourhood  to  that  place,  the  good  doctor,  as  he 
had  the  satisfaction  personally  to  attend  his  sovereign,  and  the 
honour  to  receive  a  letter  from  his  own  hand  of  great  importance, 
for  the  satisfaction  of  his  loyal  subjects  concerning  his  adherence 
to  the  established  religion  of  the  church  of  England,  wherein  his 
royal  father  lived  a  saint  and  died  a  martyr  ;  so  likewise  had  he 
on  the  other  part  the  most  immediate  agonies  for  his  defeat ;  to 
which  was  added  the  calamity  which  fell  upon  the  family  where 
he  dwelt,  from  the  persecution  and  danger  of  the  generous  master 
of  it.  But  it  pleased  God  to  give  an  issue  out  of  both  those 
difficulties,  especially  in  the  miraculous  deliverance 6  of  his  sacred 
majesty :  a  dispensation  of  so  signal  an  importance,  that  he 
allowed  it  a  solemn  recognition  in  his  constant  offices  during  his 
whole  life,  receiving  that  unusual  interposition  of  Providence  as  a 
pledge  from  heaven  of  an  arrier  of  mercies ;  to  use  his  own 
words,  "  That  God  who  had  thus  powerfully  rescued  him  from 
Egypt,  would  not  suffer  him  to  perish  in  the  wilderness ;  but 
though  his  passage  be  through  the  Red  Sea,  he  would  at  last 
bring  him  into  Canaan ;  that  he  should  come  out  of  his  tribula- 
tions as  gold  out  of  the  fire,  purified,  but  not  consumed." 

But  notwithstanding  these  reflexions,  bottomed  upon  piety  and 
reliance  upon  heaven,  the  present  state  of  things  had  a  quite 
different  prospect  in  common  eyes ;  and  the  generality  of  men 
thinking  their  religion  as  troublesome  a  burthen  as  their  loyalty, 

6  Miraculous  deliverance.']  See  True  Narrative  and  Relation  of  his  most 
Sacred  Majesty's  Escape  from  Worcester,  on  the  3d  Sept.  1651,  till  his  Arrival 
at  Paris.  Harleian  Miscellany,  fyc. 

VOL.  iv.  A  a 


354  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

with  the  same  prudence  by  which  they  changed  their  mild  and 
gracious  sovereign  for  a  bloody  TYRANT,  began  to  seek  a  pompous 
and  imperious  church  abroad,  instead  of  a  pious  and  afflicted  one 
at  home.  To  which  event  the  Roman  missionaries  7  gave  their 
liberal  contribution,  affording  their  preposterous  charity  to  make 
them  proselytes  who  had  no  mind  to  be  confessors  or  martyrs. 

7  Roman  missionaries.']  It  seems  a  fact  beyond  dispute,  that  the  evils  of 
these  unhappy  times  were  inflamed  and  aggravated  by  the  machinations  of 
many  Romish  incendiaries  ;  and  that  especially  under  the  disguise  of  fanatics 
and  agitators.  In  Foxes  and  Firebrands,  or  a  Specimen  of  the  Danger  and 
Harmony  of  Popery  and  Separation,  the  following  anecdote  is  related,  in  which 
Dr.  Hammond  bore  a  part. 

"  Mr.  John  Crooke,  sometime  bookseller  in  St.  Paul's  church-yard,  at 
the  Ship,  in  London,  and  since  stationer  and  printer  to  his  most  serene 
majesty  in  Dublin,  told  this  story  following  unto  Sir  James  Ware,  knight, 
now  deceased. 

"Anno  1656,  the  reverend  divine  Dr.  Henry  Hammond,  being  one  day  in 
the  next  shop  to  this  said  John  Crooke's,  and  there  reading  the  works  of 
St.  Ambrose,  a  red-coat  casually  came  in,  and  looked  over  this  divine's 
shoulder,  and  there  read  the  Latin  as  perfect  as  himself,  which  caused  the 
doctor  to  admire  that  a  red-coat  should  attain  to  that  learning.  Then  speak- 
ing unto  him,  he  demanded  how  he  came  to  that  science  ?  The  red-coat 
replied,  *  By  the  Holy  Spirit.'  The  doctor  hereupon  replied,  *  I  will  try 
thee  further :'  and  so  called  for  a  Greek  author,  which  this  red-coat  not  only 
read,  but  construed.  The  doctor  to  try  him  further  called  for  the  Hebrew 
Bible;  and  so  for  several  other  books,  in  which  this  red-coat  was  very 
expert.  At  last  the  doctor,  recollecting  with  himself,  called  for  a  Welsh 
Bible,  and  said,  '  If  thou  beest  inspired,  read  me  this  book,  and  construe 
it.'  But  the  red-coat  being  at  last  catched,  replied,  *  I  have  given  thee 
satisfaction  enough  :  I  will  not  satisfy  thee  further ;  for  thou  wilt  not  believe, 
though  an  angel  came  from  heaven.'  The  doctor  smelling  out  the  deceit, 
caused  the  apprentice  to  go  for  a  constable ;  who  being  brought  to  the  shop, 
the  doctor  told  the  constable  he  had  something  to  say  against  this  red- 
coat ;  and  bade  him  bring  him  before  Oliver  Cromwell,  then  called  the  lord 
protector.  The  red-coat  being  brought  to  White  Hall,  and  examined,  he, 
after  a  rustic  manner,  thoued  and  theed  Oliver :  but  being  suspected,  it  was 
demanded,  where  he  quartered.  It  being  found  out,  at  the  Devil  Tavern, 
the  doctor  intreated  his  chamber  might  be  searched :  where  they  found  an 
old  chest  filled  partly  with  his  wearing  apparel,  as  also  with  several  papers, 
and  seditious  popish  books  ;  amongst  which  there  being  a  pair  of  boots,  and 
papers  stuck  in  one  of  them,  they  found  a  parchment  bull  of  licence  to  this 
impostor,  granted  under  several  names,  to  assume  what  function  or  calling  he 
pleased.  These  being  brought  before  Oliver ;  for  what  reasons  it  is  unknown, 
yet  the  red-coat  escaped ;  bringing  several  proofs  of  what  great  service  he 
had  done  :  and  the  greatest  affliction  which  was  laid  on  him,  was  banishment : 
and  what  proceeded  further  we  know  not."  Foxes,  &c.,  part  ii.  p.  101,  edit. 
1682.  See  also,  in  vol.  iii.  of  this  work,  Life  of  Jewel,  p.  366. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  355 

Hereupon  the  doctor  thought  it  highly  seasonable  to  write  his 
tract  of  Schism,  and  oppose  it  to  that  most  popular  topic  whereby 
they  amused  and  charmed  their  fond  disciples.  And  whereas 
the  love  of  novelty  prevailed  in  several  other  instances,  as  in 
controlling  the  use  and  authority  of  the  Scripture,  defending 
incestuous  marriages,  polygamy,  divorce,  the  anabaptizing  of 
infants,  the  schismatical  ordination  of  ministers  by  mere  pres- 
byters, and  the  disuse  of  the  festivals  of  the  church ;  he  applied 
his  antidotes  to  each:  by  which  means  he  made  himself  the 
common  mark  of  opposition  to  all  parties.  For  (besides  the 
assaults  from  a  whole  class  of  antagonists  which  the  Disserta- 
tions had  engaged  against  him,  and  to  which  he  was  preparing 
his  defence,)  upon  the  Romanists'  part  he  was  charged  by  the 
Catholic  Gentleman  and  his  armour-bearer  S.  W. ;  on  the  pres- 
byterian  account  by  Mr.  Gawdry  and  Mr.  Jeanes ;  and  in  the 
behalf  of  the  independents  and  anabaptists  by  master  Owen  and 
master  Tombs  :  not  to  mention  several  others  that  sought  them- 
selves a  name  by  being  his  gainsayers,  but  failed  of  their  purpose 
by  bringing  only  spite  and  passion  into  the  quarrel,  and  so  were 
to  be  answered  only  by  pity  and  silence. 

Nor  did  he  only  stand  and  keep  at  bay  this  multiplied 
contest,  but  (as  if  this  had  not  been  task  enough)  besides  the 
intercurrent  offices  of  life,  his  reception  of  visits,  answering  of 
letters,  his  constant  preaching  and  catechising,  he  found  leisure 
to  write  his  tract  of  Fundamentals,  his  Parcenesis,  his  Review  of 
the  Annotations ;  and  amidst  all,  to  be  in  debt  to  his  importunate 
antagonists  for  nothing  but  their  railing,  leaving  that  the  only 
thing  unanswered.  Nay  more  than  so,  brought  several  of  them 
even  under  their  own  hands  to  recognize  their  sense  of  their  undue 
procedure  used  by  them  unto  him  :  which  their  acknowledgments 
yet  remain,  and  are  producible  upon  occasion. 

And  would  to  God  he  had  met  no  other  opposition  ;  for  in 
entrance  on  these  conflicts  that  strength  of  body  which  before 
had  faithfully  attended  his  indefatigable  mind  began  to  fail  him, 
and  those  four  torments  of  disease,  which  single  have  been 
judged  a  competent  trial  of  human  sufferance,  the  stone,  the 
gout,  the  cholic,  and  the  cramp,  (the  last  of  which  was  to  him  as 
tyrannous  as  any  of  the  former)  became  in  a  manner  the  con- 
stant exercise  of  his  Christian  fortitude  and  patience  ;  affording 
him  from  this  time  to  the  end  of  his  life  very  rare  and  short 
intervals  of  vigorous  health. 

Aa2 


356  DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND. 

But  among  all  his  labours,  although  polemic  discourses  were 
otherwise  most  uneasy,  as  engaging  to  converse  with  men  in 
passion,  a  thing  he  naturally  abhorred,  his  Parcenesis,  a  per- 
suasive and  practical  tract  (which  now  he  wrote,  and  which  upon 
that  account  was  exceeding  agreeable  to  his  desires)  cost  him 
most  throes  and  pangs  of  birth,  as  having  been  penned  first  in 
tears,  and  then  in  ink.  For  however  with  great  serenity  he 
entertained  all  other  accidents,  having  habituated  himself  to  his 
beloved  doctrine  of  submitting  not  to  the  will  of  God  alone,  but 
to  his  wisdom,  both  which  he  was  used  to  say  were  perfectly  one 
thing  in  that  blest  agent  (and  accordingly  in  the  most  dismal 
appearance  of  event  made  this  his  constant  motto,  rOltO1?  IT  D3 
Even  this  for  good)  ;  yet  in  this  instance  the  tenderness  of  his 
soul  seemed  to  have  melted  his  resolution :  the  occasion  of  that 
treatise  being  the  interdict8  of  Jan.  1655,  which  disabled  the 

8  The  interdict."]  That  declaration,  so  far  as  it  concerned  the  clergy,  was  in 
these  words. 

"  His  highness,  by  the  advice  of  his  council,  doth  also  publish,  declare, 
and  order,  that  as  no  person,  or  persons  aforesaid,  do,  from  and  after  the 
first  day  of  January,  1655,  keep  in  their  houses  or  families,  as  chaplains,  or 
school-masters,  for  the  education  of  their  children,  any  sequestered  or  ejected 
minister,  fellow  of  a  college,  or  schoolmaster :  nor  permit  any  of  their  chil- 
dren to  be  taught  by  such,  upon  pain  of  being  proceeded  against,  &c.  And 
that  no  person,  who  for  delinquency  or  scandal,  hath  been  sequestered  or 
ejected,  shall,  from  and  after  the  first  day  of  January  aforesaid,  preach  in  any 
public  place,  or  at  any  private  meeting  of  any  other  persons  than  those  of 
his  own  family  :  nor  shall  administer  baptism,  or  the  Lord's  supper,  or  marry 
any  persons,  or  use  the  book  of  Common  Prayer,  or  the  forms  of  prayer 
therein  contained,  upon  pain  that  every  person  so  offending,  in  any  of  the 
premises  shall  be  proceeded  against  as  by  the  said  orders  is  provided  and 
directed."  But  the  extreme  cruelty  of  this  declaration  seems  to  have  pre- 
vented its  being  long  and  generally  inforced.  See  Walker's  Sufferings  of  the 
Clergy,  part  i.  p.  1 94.  In  reference  to  this  interdict  the  following  anecdote 
is  told  in  Parr's  Life  of  Archbishop  Ussher,  p.  75.  "  According  to  the  desires 
of  many  of  the  episcopal  clergy,  he  went,  and  used  his  utmost  endeavours 
with  Cromwell,  for  the  taking  off  this  restraint,  which  was  at  last  promised 
(though  with  some  difficulty),  that  they  should  not  be  molested,  provided 
they  meddled  not  with  any  matters  relating  to  his  government.  But  when 
the  lord  primate  went  to  him  a  second  time,  to  get  this  promise  ratified,  and 
put  into  writing,  he  found  him  under  his  chirurgeon's  hands,  who  was 
dressing  a  great  boil  which  he  had  on  his  breast.  So  Cromwell  prayed  the 
lord  primate  to  sit  down  a  little  ;  and  that,  when  he  was  dressed,  he  would 
speak  with  him.  Whilst  this  was  a  doing,  Cromwell  said  to  the  lord  primate, 
If  this  core  (pointing  to  the  boil)  were  once  out  I  sh<>nld  quickly  be  well.  I" 
which  the  good  bishop  replied,  /  dnuht  the  core  lies  deeper.  There  is  a  core 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  357 

loyal  suffering  clergy  from  doing  any  ministerial  act ;  which  he 
resented  with  the  highest  passion ;  not  only  upon  the  general 
account  of  God's  more  immediate  displeasure  to  the  nation 
legible  therein,  but  (what  he  had  much  less  reason  to  do)  in 
reference  to  his  own  particular  ;  he  looking  on  this  dispensation 
of  Providence  as  God's  pronouncing  him  unworthy  to  do  him 
service,  "  the  reproaching  "  (to  use  his  own  words)  "  his  former 
unprofitableness,  by  casting  him  out  as  straw  to  the  dunghill." 
Nor  should  any  consideration  that  terminated  on  himself  have 
persuaded  him  at  all  to  regard  that  tyrannous  injunction,  had 
not  charity  to  the  family  where  he  was,  made  him  content  to 
admit  of  an  expedient  that  secured  all  real  duties,  whilst  he  for 
some  short  time  forbore  that  attendance  on  the  altar  which  was 
the  very  joy  of  his  life. 

And  now,  though  his  physicians  had  earnestly  forbidden  his 
accustomed  fastings,  and  his  own  weaknesses  gave  forcible  suf- 
frages to  their  advice,  yet  he  resumed  his  rigours,  esteeming  this 
calamity  such  a  one  as  admitted  no  exception,  which  should  not 
be  outlived,  but  that  it  became  men  to  be  martyrs  too,  and 
deprecate  even  in  death. 

While  he  thus  earnestly  implored  the  aids  of  heaven,  and 
exhorted  unto  present  duty,  he  omitted  not  a  third  expedient,  by 
securing  a  succession  to  the  church,  thereby  to  preserve  its  future 
being.  And  this  he  did  not  only  in  reference  to  the  superior 
order  of  episcopacy,  which  it  has  pleased  God  now  to  secure  by 
another  more  gracious  method  of  his  favour,  and  even  miraculous 
goodness  ;  but  also  in  the  inferior  attendance  on  the  altar :  the 
latter  of  which  as  it  was  an  enterprise  suiting  well  with  his  heroic 
mind,  so  was  it  no  way  answering  his  narrow  fortunes.  The  thing 
in  his  design  was  this.  Whereas  the  ancient  stock  of  clergymen 
were  by  this  edict  in  a  manner  rendered  useless,  and  the  church 
was  at  best  like  the  Roman  state  in  its  first  beginning,  res  unius 
cetatis  populus  virorum,  a  nation  of  ancient  persons  hastening  to 

at  the  heart  that  must  be  taken  out,  or  else  it  will  not  be  well.  Ah  !  replied 
he,  seeming  unconcerned,  so  there  is  indeed,  and  sighed.  But  when  the 
lord  primate  began  to  speak  with  him  concerning  the  business  he  came 
about,  he  answered  him  to  this  effect ;  that  he  had  since  better  considered  it, 
having  advised  with  his  council  about  it,  and  that  they  thought  it  not  safe 
for  him  to  grant  liberty  of  conscience  to  those  sort  of  men,  who  are  restless 
and  implacable  enemies  to  him  and  his  government;  and  so  he  took  his 
leave  of  him,  though  with  good  words  and  outward  civility." 


358  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

their  graves,  who  must  in  a  few  years  be  wasted  ;  he  projected 
by  pensions  unto  hopeful  persons  in  either  university,  to  maintain 
a  seminary  of  youth,  instituted  in  piety  and  learning,  upon  the 
sober  principles  and  old  establishment  of  the  Anglican  Church. 
In  which  work,  though  the  assistances  he  presumed  on  failed  in  a 
great  measure,  yet  somewhat  not  inconsiderable 9  in  this  kind  by 
himself  and  friends  he  did  achieve,  and  kept  on  foot  until  his 
death.  In  his  instructions  to  them  whom  he  employed  in  this 
affair,  he  gave  in  charge  "  carefully  to  seek  out  such  as  were 
piously  inclined,  and  to  prefer  that  qualification  before  unsancti- 
fied  good  parts ;"  adding  this  as  a  certain  maxim,  "  that  exem- 
plary virtue  must  restore  the  church." 

And  whereas  that  black  defeat  at  Worcester,  raising  the  inso- 
lent tyrant  here  unto  that  greatness  which  almost  outwent  the 
impudence  of  his  hopes,  made  him  to  be  feared  by  foreign  na- 
tions almost  as  much  as  hated  by  his  own,  the  loyal  sufferers 
abroad  became  subjected  to  the  worst  effect  of  banishment,  and 
were  even  there  expelled  and  driven  from  their  flights :  so  paral- 
leling in  their  exigencies  the  most  immediate  objects  of  that 
monster's  fury.  The  excellent  doctor,  to  whose  diffusive  virtue 
the  limits  of  the  nation  were  too  straight  a  circle,  thought  this 
a  season  to  exert  his  charity :  accordingly,  though  this  greatest 

9  Not  inconsiderable.']  One  of  the  persons  upon  whom  a  portion  of  this 
bounty  was  most  deservedly  bestowed  was  Isaac  Barrow,  afterwards  the  great 
precursor  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  the  pride  of  the  English  pulpit ;  and  another 
was  the  Rev.  Clement  Ellis,  a  divine  whose  writings  in  practical  theology,  for 
their  eminent  and  fervent  piety,  for  soundness  of  doctrine,  and  for  a  vigorous, 
unaffected,  and  manly  style,  have  been  very  rarely  surpassed ;  and  deserve  to 
be  much  more  extensively  known,  than  it  is  apprehended  they  now  are,  or 
ever  have  been. 

"  He  received  several  donations  towards  his  subsistence  at  Oxford  from 
unknown  hands  ;  with  anonymous  letters  to  certify,  that  those  sums  were  in 
consideration  of  his  father's  sufferings,  and  to  encourage  his  progress  in  his 
studies.  Several  such  presents  and  letters  he  had,  both  before  and  after  his 
being  in  holy  orders,  without  his  knowing  from  whence  they  came :  but  after 
the  restoration  of  the  church  and  royal  family,  he  had  some  reason  to  believe 
that  they  came  from  Dr.  (Jeremy)  Taylor  and  Dr.  Hammond,  being  part  of 
those  collections  of  money,  put  into  their  hands  by  charitable  and  well- 
disposed  persons,  for  the  support  and  encouragement  of  suffering  loyalty." 
Veneer's  Account  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Clement  Ellis,  M.A.  prefixed 
to  the  work  entitled,  The  Scripture  Catechist ;  or  the  whole  Religion  of  a 
Christian,  1738,  8vo.  See  also  the  Life  of  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow,  prefixed  to  his 
Theological  Works. 


DOCTOR  HEiNRY   HAMMOND.  359 

duty  were  solemnly  declared  treason,  he  then  continued  to  send 
over  several  sums  for  their  relief. 

Which  practice  of  his,  by  the  surprise  of  the  person  entrusted, 
being  discovered  to  the  tyrant,  he  was  alarmed  with  the  expec- 
tation of  that  usage  which  was  then  a  certain  consequent  of  such 
meritorious  acts.  But  this  adventure  brought  nothing  of  amaze- 
ment or  disturbance  to  the  doctor,  his  most  importunate  reflec- 
tion being  only  this,  that  he  seemed  to  have  gained  an  opportu- 
nity of  saying  something  very  home  to  that  fierce  monster  con- 
cerning his  foul  deeds,  and  to  discourse  the  appropriate  ways 
remaining  to  alleviate  at  least,  if  not  to  expiate  for  them ;  which 
he  purposed  within  himself  to  press  to  the  highest  advantage : 
and  indeed  this  was  the  only  issue  of  that  so  threatening  accident, 
God's  restraining  power  interposing  here,  and  exemplifying  upon 
him  what  in  others  he  was  wont  to  observe,  "  that  they  who  least 
considered  hazard  in  the  doing  of  their  duties  fared  still  best." 

And  this  success  as  it  was  indeed,  and  accordingly  he  frequently 
acknowledged  it  for,  an  eminent  act  of  the  Divine  Providence ;  so 
we  may  likewise  take  it  as  a  signal  testimony  of  the  commanding 
worth  the  doctor  had,  which  extorted  a  reverence  to  his  person 
from  that  worst  of  men,  and  rendered  him  a  sanctuary,  perhaps 
the  only  one  this  architect  of  mischief  stood  in  awe  of,  and  even 
his  sacrilege  preserved  inviolate. 

Nor  did  this  danger  being  over,  as  with  others  in  all  likelihood 
it  would  have  done,  persuade  to  caution  for  the  future ;  but  with 
the  wonted  diligence  that  formerly  he  used,  he  immediately  pro- 
ceeded, and  cheerfully  went  on  in  the  pursuit  of  his  heroic 
charity. 

Amidst  these  diversions  grew  up  the  labours  of  this  hero,  the 
issue  of  his  brain,  being  not  only  midwifed  into  the  world  like 
natural  births  with  torment  and  disease,  but  written,  like  Csesar's 
Commentaries,  in  dangers  and  in  war.  And  now  besides  the 
replies  which  the  importunities  of  master  Owen,  master  Jeanes, 
and  master  Tombs  drew  from  him,  W.  S.  continuing  his  loud 
clamours  and  impudent  triumph  at  his  own  folly,  the  good  doctor 
suffered  himself  to  be  engaged  on  that  long  answer,  which  proved 
the  last  of  that  kind  he  made,  excepting  that  single  sheet  put  out 
a  few  months  before  his  death,  as  a  specimen  to  what  desperate 
shifts  the  patrons  of  the  Roman  cause  were  driven :  for  though 
some  of  his  friends  advised  him  to  remit  that  divinity  buffoon  to 
be  answered  in  his  own  way  by  a  slighter  pen,  he  by  no  means 


360  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

would  admit  of  the  proposal,  resolving  it  unfit  that  another  should 
do  in  his  behalf  what  was  indecent  for  himself  to  do ;  and  though 
there  was  no  respect  to  be  had  of  W.  S.  yet  was  the  sacred  cause 
to  be  managed  with  reverence  and  awful  regard.  While  this  was 
in  hand  the  second  Review  of  the  Annotations  came  to  light,  as 
also  the  Exposition  on  the  Book  of  Psalms,  and  soon  after  the  pa- 
cific Discourse  of  God? s  Grace  and  Decrees,  ventilated  between  him 
and  his  dear  friend  the  reverend  and  most  learned  Dr.  Sanderson, 
now  lord  bishop  of  Lincoln,  occasioned  by  some  letters  which 
had  passed  on  that  subject  between  the  said  doctor  and  the  reve- 
rend Dr.  Pierce.  To  this  immediately  succeeded  the  Latin  tract 
of  Confirmation,  in  answer  to  the  exceptions  of  Mr.  Daille,  which 
was  then  prepared  for  the  press,  though  detained  much  longer 
upon  prudential  or  rather  charitative  considerations,  a  respect  to 
which  was  strictly  had  in  ah1  the  doctor's  writings  ;  it  being  his 
care  not  only  to  publish  sober  and  convincing,  but  withal  season- 
able, useful  truths. 

He  was  likewise  enterprizing  a  farther  Comnwn[ary  on  the  Old 
Testament,  and  began  on  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  and  finished  a 
third  part  of  it :  but  the  completion  of  this  and  all  other  the 
great  intendments  of  the  equally  learned,  pious,  and  indefatigable 
author,  received  here  a  full  period :  it  pleasing  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence to  take  to  himself  this  high  example  of  all  moral  and 
Christian  excellencies  in  a  season  when  the  church  and  nation 
would  least  have  been  deprived  of  his  aids  towards  the  cementing 
of  those  breaches  which  then  began  to  offer  at  a  closure. 

It  is  easily  to  be  presumed  the  reader  will  not  be  disobliged,  if 
we  a  while  divert  from  this  remaining  sadder  part  of  the  under- 
taken narrative,  and  entertain  him  with  a  survey  of  the  personal 
accomplishments  of  the  excellent  doctor.  The  particulars  where- 
of would  not  readily  have  fallen  into  the  thread  of  history,  or  at 
least  had  been  disjointed  there,  and  under  disadvantage;  but 
will  be  made  to  stand  in  a  much  fairer  light,  when  represented  to 
the  view  by  way  of  character  and  picture. 

And  therefore  to  this  prospect  we  cheerfully  invite  all  eyes  in 
whose  esteem  virtue  itself  is  lovely. 


.  TIOX     'I  UK    SK( ONI). 

Tin.  frame  of  his  body  was  such  as  suited  with  the  noble  use 
to  which  it  was  designed,  the*  entertaining  a  most  pun-  and  active 


DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND.  361 

soul,  but  equally  to  the  advantages  of  strength  and  comeliness. 
His  stature  was  of  just  height  and  all  proportionate  dimensions, 
avoiding  the  extremes  of  gross  and  meagre,  advantaged  by  a 
graceful  carriage,  at  once  most  grave,  and  yet  as  much  obliging. 
His  face  carried  dignity  and  attractives  in  it,  scarce  ever  clouded 
with  a  frown,  or  so  much  as  darkened  by  reservedness.  His  eye 
was  quick  and  sprightful,  his  complexion  clear  and  florid,  so  that 
(especially  in  his  youth)  he  had  the  esteem  of  a  very  beauteous 
person ;  which  was  lessened  only  by  the  colour  of  his  hair : 
though  if  the  sentence  of  other  ages  and  climates  be  of  value, 
that  reasonably  might  be  vouched  as  an  accession  to  it. 

To  this  outward  structure  was  joined  that  strength  of  consti- 
tution, patient  of  severest  toil  and  hardship  ;  insomuch  that  for 
the  most  part  of  his  life,  in  the  fiercest  extremity  of  cold,  he  took 
no  other  advantage  of  a  fire,  than  at  the  greatest  distance  that 
he  could,  to  look  upon  it.  As  to  diseases  (till  immoderate  study 
had  wrought  a  change)  he  was  in  a  manner  only  liable  to  fevers, 
which  a  too  constant  temperance  did  in  a  great  measure  prevent, 
and  still  assisted  to  relieve  and  cure. 

Next  to  his  frame  of  body,  if  we  survey  his  inward  faculties, 
we  shall  find  them  just  unto  the  promises  of  his  outward  shape. 
His  sight  was  quick  to  an  unusual  degree ;  insomuch  that  if  by 
chance  he  saw  a  knot  of  men,  a  flock  of  sheep,  or  herd  of  cattle, 
being  engaged  in  discourse,  and  not  at  all  thinking  of  it,  he  would 
involuntary  cast  up  their  number,  which  others  after  long  delays 
could  hardly  reckon.  His  ear  was  accurate  and  tuned  to  his 
harmonious  soul,  so  that  having  never  learned  to  sing  by  book  or 
study,  he  would  exactly  perform  his  part  of  many  things  to  a 
harpsicon  or  theorbo,  and  frequently  did  so  in  his  more  vigorous 
years  after  the  toil  and  labour  of  the  day,  and  before  the  remain- 
ing studies  of  the  night.  His  elocution  was  free  and  graceful, 
prepared  at  once  to  charm  and  to  command  his  audience :  and 
when  with  preaching  at  his  country  charge  he  had  in  some  degree 
lost  the  due  manage  of  his  voice,  his  late  sacred  majesty,  by 
taking  notice  of  the  change,  became  his  master  of  music,  and 
reduced  him  to  his  ancient  decent  modulation ;  a  kindness  which 
the  doctor  very  gratefully  acknowledged  to  his  dying  day,  and 
reported  not  only  as  an  instance  of  the  meek  and  tender  conde- 
scensions of  that  gracious  prince,  but  improved  to  persuade  others 
by  so  great  an  example  to  that  most  friendly  office  of  telling  per- 
sons of  their  faults,  without  which  very  commonly  (as  here  it 


362  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

happened)  men  must  be  so  far  from  amending  their  errors,  that 
it  is  morally  impossible  they  should  ever  know  them. 

As  to  his  more  inferior  faculties,  we  must  allow  the  first  place 
to  his  invention,  his  richest,  altogether  unexhausted  treasure, 
whose  Sowings  were  with  that  full  torrent,  that  for  several  years 
after  his  choice  of  subject,  which  generally  he  had  in  prospect 
beforehand,  a  little  meditation  on  the  Saturday  night  made  up  his 
sermon :  but  in  the  last  twelve  of  his  life,  finding  the  recollection 
of  his  thoughts  disturb  his  sleep,  he  remitted  the  particular  care 
of  the  composition  and  method  of  his  future  discourse  to  the 
Sunday  morning,  wherein  an  hour's  consideration  fitted  him  to 
the  office  of  the  day.  With  the  like  swiftness  he  dispatched  his 
writings,  usually  composing  faster  than  his  amanuensis,  though  a 
very  dexterous  person,  could  transcribe  after  him.  His  Consi- 
derations of  present  Necessity  concerning  Episcopacy  were  drawn 
up  *  after  ten  of  clock  at  night  in  a  friend's  chamber,  who  pro- 
fesses, that  sitting  by  all  the  while,  he  remembers  not  that  he 
took  off  pen  from  paper  till  he  had  done;  and  the  very  next 
morning,  it  being  fully  approved  by  the  bishop  of  Salisbury,  he 
sent  it  to  the  press :  to  which  work  he  could  have  no  premedita- 
tion or  second  thoughts,  he  being  that  very  night  after  supper 
employed  by  the  before-mentioned  lord  bishop  of  Salisbury,  iu>\\ 
of  Winchester 3,  on  that  task.  So  likewise  he  began  his  tract  of 
Scandal  at  eleven  at  night,  and  finished  it  before  he  went  to  bed. 
Nor  was  this  a  peculiar  or  extraordinary  thing  with  him,  but 
most  customary  ;  five  sheets  having  amidst  his  other  diversions 
been  sundry  times  his  one  day's  work ;  adding  to  it  so  much  of 
the  night  as  he  frequently  borrowed  from  sleep  and  supper.  And 
indeed  such  were  his  diversions,  so  many  and  so  importunate, 
that  notwithstanding  this  incredible  ease  of  writing,  it  is  hardly 
imaginable  how  he  could  compass  the  tithe  of  what  he  did.  For 
he  that  shall  consider  his  laborious  way,  immersed  in  almost  infi- 
nite quotations,  to  which  the  turning  over  books  and  consulting 
several  editions  were  absolutely  needful ;  his  obligation  to  read 
not  only  classic  authors,  but  the  more  recent  abortions  of  the 
press,  wherein  he  proved  frequently  concerned;  his  perusal  of 
the  writings  of  his  friends  and  strangers  intended  to  be  public  ; 


1  Were  drawn  upJ]  They  consisted  of  fourteen  pages  in  quarto  of  close  and 
small  printing. 
3  Winchester  J]  Brian  Duppa. 


DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND.  363 

his  review  of  his  own  works,  and  correcting  them  with  his  own 
hand  sheet  by  sheet  as  they  came  forth,  which  he  did  to  all  his 
latter  tracts ;  his  reception  of  visits,  whether  of  civility,  or  for 
resolution  of  conscience,  or  information  in  points  of  difficulty, 
which  were  numerous,  and  great  devourers  of  his  time  ;  his 
agency  for  men  of  quality,  providing  them  schoolmasters  for  their 
children,  and  chaplains  in  their  houses,  in  which  affair  he  had  set 
up  a  kind  of  office  of  address ;  his  general  correspondencies  by 
letter,  whereof  some  cost  him  ten,  others  twenty,  thirty,  forty, 
nay  sixty  sheets  of  paper,  and  ever  took  up  two  days  of  the  week 
entirely  to  themselves ;  the  time  exhausted  by  his  sicknesses, 
which  in  the  later  years  of  his  life  gave  him  but  short  and  seldom 
truce,  and  always  made  it  necessary  for  him  not  to  stir  from  his 
chair  or  so  much  as  read  a  letter  for  two  hours  after  every  meal, 
failance  wherein  being  certainly  revenged  by  a  fit  of  the  gout ; 
his  not  only  constant  preaching  and  instructing  the  family  where 
he  was,  and  his  visiting  the  sick  both  there  and  in  the  neighbour- 
hood ;  but  amidst  all,  his  sure  returns  of  prayer,  so  frequent  and 
so  constant  as  certainly  to  challenge  to  themselves  a  great  por- 
tion of  the  day :  he,  I  say,  that  shall  compute  and  sum  up  this, 
the  particulars  whereof  are  nakedly  set  down  without  any  strain- 
ing of  the  truth  or  flourish  of  expression,  must  be  to  seek  what 
point  of  vacant  time  remained  yet  undisposed  ;  I  do  not  say  to 
write  books,  but  even  to  breathe  and  rest  a  little  in. 

After  a  serious  reflection  on  the  premises,  and  full  debate 
thereon,  the  account  given  by  that  excellent  person  who  had  the 
happiness  of  being  the  nearest  and  most  constant  witness  of  the 
before  recited  severals,  seems  the  best  and  chiefly  satisfactory 
that  possibly  can  be  made ;  that  he  gained  time  for  his  writing 
books  by  the  time  he  spent  in  prayer,  whilst  (a  more  than  ordi- 
nary assistance  attending  his  devotions)  his  closet  proved  his 
library,  and  he  studied  most  upon  his  knees. 

As  to  his  memory,  it  was  serviceable,  but  not  officious ;  faith- 
ful to  things  and  business,  but  unwillingly  retaining  the  contex- 
ture and  punctualities  of  words :  which  defect  he  frequently 
lamented,  it  being  harder  with  him  to  get  one  sermon  by  heart 
than  to  pen  twenty. 

His  way  of  speech  and  faculty  of  communicating  notions  was 
sufficiently  happy,  having  only  this  best  kind  of  defect,  exuberance 
and  surplusage  of  plenty,  the  tide  and  torrent  of  his  matter  being 
not  easily  confined  by  periods  ;  whereby  his  style,  though  round 


364  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

and  comprehensive,  was  incumbered  sometimes  by  parentheses, 
and  became  difficult  to  vulgar  understandings  :  but  by  the  use  of 
writing,  and  his  desire  to  accommodate  himself  to  all  capacities, 
he  in  his  latter  years  had  mastered  that  defect,  which  was  so 
slight,  that  notwithstanding  it,  he  deserved  from  the  most  accu- 
rate judge  and  greatest  master  of  English  rhetoric  which  this  age 
hath  given,  his  late  sacred  majesty,  this  character  and  testimony, 
"  That  he  was  the  most  natural  orator  he  ever  heard." 

His  judgment,  as  in  itself  the  highest  faculty,  so  was  it  the 
most  eminent  among  his  natural  endowments :  for  though  the 
finding  out  of  the  similitudes  of  different  things,  wherein  the 
fancy  is  conversant,  is  usually  a  bar  to  the  discerning  the  dispa- 
rities of  similar  appearances,  which  is  the  business  of  discretion, 
and  that  store  of  notions  which  is  laid  up  in  memory  assists 
rather  confusion  than  choice,  upon  which  grounds  the  greatest 
clerks  are  frequently  not  the  wisest  men ;  he  had,  to  his  sufficient 
memory  and  incomparable  invention,  a  clear  and  discerning  judg- 
ment ;  and  that  not  only  in  scholastical  affairs  and  points  of 
learning,  which  the  arguings,  and  besides  them  the  designment 
of  his  writings  manifest  beyond  dispute,  but  in  the  concerns  of 
public  nature  both  of  church  and  state,  wherein  his  guess  was 
usually  as  near  to  prophecy  as  any  man's ;  as  also  in  the  little 
mysteries  of  private  manage,  by  which  upon  occasion  he  has  un- 
ravelled the  studied  cheats  of  great  artificers  in  that  liberal 
science,  wherein  particularly  he  vindicated  a  person  of  honour 
for  whom  he  was  entrusted,  and  assisted  frequently  his  friends  in 
their  domestic  intercurrent  difficulties. 

As  to  acquired  habits  and  abilities  in  learning,  his  writings 
having  given  the  world  sufficient  account  of  them,  there  remains 
only  to  observe,  that  the  range  and  compass  of  his  knowledge 
filled  the  whole  circle  of  the  arts,  and  reached  those  sevcrals. 
which  single  do  exact  an  entire  man  unto  themselves,  and  full 
age.  To  be  accurate  in  the  grammar  and  idioms  of  the  tongues, 
and  then  as  a  rhetorician  to  make  all  their  graces  serve  his  elo- 
quence ;  to  have  traversed  ancient,  and  yet  be  no  stranuvr  in 
modern  writers ;  to  be  studied  in  philosophy,  and  familiarly 
versed  in  all  the  politer  classic  authors ;  to  be  learned  in  school- 
divinity,  and  a  master  in  church  antiquity.  perfect  and  ready  in 
the  sense  of  fathers,  councils,  ecclesiastical  historians  and  lit  ur<_ 
to  have  devoured  so  much  and  yet  digested  it,  is  a  rarity  in  nature 
and  in  diligence  which  has  but  few  examples. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  365 

But  after  all  we  must  take  leave  to  say,  and  do  it  upon  sober 
recollection,  that  the  doctor's  learning  was  the  least  thing  in  him  : 
the  scholar  was  here  less  eminent  then  the  Christian.  His  specu- 
lative knowledge,  that  gave  light  to  the  most  dark  and  difficult 
proposals,  became  eclipsed  by  the  more  dazzling  lustre  of  his 
practick.  In  the  catalogue  of  his  virtues,  his  chastity  and  tempe- 
rance may  claim  the  earliest  place,  as  being  the  sacrists  to  the 
rest,  and  in  him  were  therefore  only  not  the  greatest  of  his  excel- 
lencies, because  every  thing  else  was  so. 

And  first,  his  chaste  thoughts,  words  and  carriage  so  disciplined 
his  lower  faculties,  as  not  only  restrained  through  all  the  heats  of 
youth,  made  more  than  usually  importunate  by  the  full  vigour 
of  a  high  and  sanguine  constitution,  (which  his  escape  he  grate- 
fully referred  unto  the  only  mercy  of  almighty  God,)  but  gave  a 
detestation  of  all  those  verbal  follies,  that  have  not  only  the  allow- 
ance of  being  harmless  mirth,  but  the  repute  of  wit  and  gaiety  of 
humour  ;  so  that  the  scurrilous  jest  could  sooner  obtain  his  tears 
in  penance  for  it,  than  the  approbation  of  a  smile  ;  and  all  ap- 
proaches to  this  sin  he  looked  upon  not  only  with  an  utter  disal- 
lowance in  his  will,  but  a  kind  of  natural  abhorrence  and  antipathy 
in  his  lower  outward  faculties. 

In  his  first  remove  to  Penshurst  he  was  persuaded  by  his 
friends  that  the  matrimonial  state  was  needful  to  the  bearing  off 
those  houshold  cares  and  other  intercurrent  troubles  which  his 
condition  then  brought  with  it ;  and  on  this  ground  he  gave  some 
ear  to  their  advices :  which  he  did  then  more  readily,  for  that 
there  was  a  person  represented  to  him,  of  whose  virtue,  as  well  as 
other  more-usually-desired  accomplishments,  he  had  been  long 
before  well  satisfied.  But  being  hindered  several  times  by  little 
unexpected  accidents,  he  finally  laid  down  all  his  pretensions, 
upon  a  ground  of  perfect  self-denial ;  being  informed  that  one  of 
a  fairer  fortune  and  higher  quality  than  his  was,  or  else  was  like 
to  be,  and  consequently  one  who  in  common  account  would  prove 
the  better  match,  had  kindness  for  her.  Having  thus  resolved, 
the  charity  of  his  mother,  who  undertook  the  manage  of  his 
family,  became  a  seasonable  assistant  and  expedient  in  this  single 
state ;  till  after  several  years  her  age  making  those  cares  too 
great  a  burthen  for  her  shoulders,  he  again  was  induced  to  resume 
his  thoughts  of  marriage.  But  the  national  disturbances  (that 
afterwards  brake  out  in  war  and  ruin)  appearing  then  in  ferment, 
he  was  again  diverted  by  recollecting  the  apostle's  advice,  (1  Cor. 


366  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

vii.  26.)  enforced  upon  his  thoughts  by  the  reading  of  St.  Jerom's 
epistle  to  Agereuchia,  where  after  glorious  elogies  of  marriage, 
the  father  concluded  in  an  earnest  dehortation  from  it,  upon  a 
representation  of  a  like  face  of  things  ;  the  Goths  then  breaking 
into  Italy,  as  they  before  had  done  into  the  other  near  parts  of 
the  Roman  empire,  and  filling  all  with  slaughter,  cruelty,  and  ruin. 
Upon  which  prospect  the  good  doctor  casting  a  serious  eye,  and 
with  prophetic  sorrows  and  misgivings  fearing  a  parallel  in  this 
our  nation,  the  second  time  deposited  his  conjugal  intendments, 
and  thencefore  courted  and  espoused  (what  he  preserved  invio- 
late) unto  his  death,  the  more  eminent  perfection  of  spotless 
virgin  chastity. 

His  appetite  was  good,  but  the  restraint  of  it  was  very  eminent 
and  extraordinary ;  for  his  diet  was  of  the  plainest  meats,  and 
commonly  not  only  his  dishes,  but  the  parts  of  them  were  such  as 
most  others  would  refuse.  Sauces  he  scarce  ever  tasted  of,  but 
often  expressed  it  his  wonder  how  rational  creatures  should  eat 
for  any  thing  but  health,  since  he  that  did  eat  or  drink  that  which 
might  cause  a  fit  of  the  stone  or  gout,  though  a  year  after,  therein 
unmanned  himself,  and  acted  as  a  beast.  So  that  his  self-denials 
were  quite  contrary  to  the  usual  ones  ;  for  considering  the  time 
lost  in  eating,  and  the  vacancy  succeeding  it,  his  meals  were  the 
greatest  pressure,  and  his  fasting-day  the  most  sensual  part  of 
his  week. 

In  the  time  of  his  full  and  more  vigorous  health  he  seldom  did 
eat  or  drink  more  than  once  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  some  fruit 
towards  night ;  and  two  days  in  every  week,  and  in  Lent  and 
Ember-week  three  days,  he  eat  but  once  in  thirty-six.  Nor  did 
he  ever  with  so  much  regret  submit  unto  any  prescript,  as  whon 
his  physicians,  after  his  great  fever  that  he  had  in  Oxford, 
required  him  to  eat  suppers.  Which  severity  of  injunction  he 
soon  shook  off,  and  returned  to  his  beloved  abstinence,  until  n- 
newed  infirmities  brought  him  back  unto  the  penance  of  more 
indulgence  to  himself. 

As  he  had  the  greatest  indifference  to  what  he  eat,  so  had  he 
the  greatest  observation  too,  especially  when  it  came  to  be  made 
point  of  diet  and  prescription  ;  for  in  this  case  he  was  most  exact, 
never  tasting  of  any  prohibited  meats,  though  some  of  them  had 
before  the  advantage  of  being  customary  towards  their  seeming 
necessary.  And  herein  his  palate  was  so  tractable  and  subduod 
to  the  dictates  of  an  higher  choice,  that  ho  really  thought  no 


DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND.  367 

meat  pleasant,  but  in  proportion  to  its  wholesomeness :  even  his 
beloved  apples  he  would  oft  say  he  would  totally  abandon,  as  soon 
as  they  should  appear  to  be  no  more  than  barely  innocent,  and  not 
of  use.  And  if  by  chance  or  inadvertency  he  had  at  any  time 
tasted  of  an  interdicted  dish,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  it,  he 
discovered  a  dislike  both  with  himself  and  what  he  had  been 
surprized  with. 

The  carving  at  the  table  he  always  made  his  province,  which 
he  said  he  did  as  a  diversion  to  keep  him  from  eating  over-much  : 
but  certainly  that  practice  had  another  more  immediate  cause,  a 
natural  distributiveness  of  humour,  and  a  desire  to  be  employed 
in  the  relief  of  every  kind  of  want  of  every  person.  The  report, 
and  much  more  the  sight,  of  a  luxurious  feeder  would  turn  his 
stomach,  so  that  he  was  in  more  danger  to  be  sick  with  others1 
surfeits  than  his  own ;  charity  seeming  a  part  of  his  com- 
plexion, while  he  performed  a  natural  spontaneous  penance  for 
his  neighbour's  vice,  as  well  as  a  deliberate  one  in  sorrowing 
for  it. 

His  temperance  in  sleep  resembled  that  of  his  meats,  midnight 
being  the  usual  time  of  his  going  to  rest,  and  four  or  five,  and 
very  rarely  six,  the  hour  of  his  rising.  There  was  scarce  any 
thing  he  resented  so  much  in  his  infirmities  and  multiplied  dis- 
eases as  their  having  abridged  him  of  his  night-studies,  professing 
thereby  he  lost  not  only  his  greatest  pleasure,  but  highest  advan- 
tage in  reference  to  business.  And  in  his  later  time  of  weakness, 
when  to  take  benefit  of  a  gentle  breathing  sweat,  which  usually 
came  in  the  morning,  he  had  been  engaged  by  his  physician  to 
continue  in  bed  till  it  was  over  ;  and  upon  complaint  of  costive- 
ness  he  was  on  the  other  side  directed  to  rise  somewhat  early  in 
the  morning ;  this  latter  injunction  he  looked  upon  as  a  mere 
rescue  and  deliverance,  often  mentioning  it  with  thanks,  as  if  it 
had  been  an  eminent  favour  done  him. 

His  disposal  of  himself  in  the  other  parts  of  time  was  to  per- 
petual industry  and  diligence:  he  not  only  avoided,  but  bore  a 
perfect  hate,  and  seemed  to  have  a  forcible  antipathy  to  idleness, 
and  scarcely  recommended  any  thing  in  his  advices  with  that  con- 
cern and  vigour,  as  to  be  furnished  always  with  somewhat  to  do. 
This  he  proposed  as  the  best  expedient  both  for  innocence  and 
pleasure  ;  assuring  that  no  burthen  is  more  heavy  or  temptation 
more  dangerous,  than  to  have  time  lye  on  one's  hand ;  the  idle 
man's  brain  being  not  only  (as  he  worded  it)  the  Devil's  shop. 


368  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

but  his  kingdom  too,  a  model  of  and  an  appendage  unto  hell,  a 
place  given  up  to  torment  and  to  mischief.  Besides  those  portions 
of  time  which  the  necessities  of  nature  and  of  civil  life  extorted 
from  him,  there  was  not  a  minute  of  the  day  which  he  left  vacant. 
When  he  walked  abroad,  which  he  did  not  so  much  to  recreate 
himself,  as  to  obey  the  prescripts  of  his  physician,  he  never  failed 
to  take  a  book  with  him,  and  read  all  the  while:  and  in  his 
chamber  also  he  had  one  lay  constantly  open,  out  of  which  his 
servant  read  to  him  while  he  was  dressing  and  undressing ;  by 
which  one  piece  of  husbandry  in  short  space  he  dispatched  several 
considerable  volumes. 

His  way  was  still  to  cast  into  paper  all  his  observations,  and 
direct  them  to  his  present  purposes ;  wherein  he  had  an  incre- 
dible dexterity,  scarce  ever  reading  any  thing  which  he  did  not 
make  subservient  in  one  kind  or  other.  He  was  used  to  say, 
"  he  could  not  abide  to  talk  with  himself,1''  and  therefore  was  so 
diligently  provided  of  that  which  he  called  "  better  company." 
In  his  sicknesses,  if  they  were  not  so  violent  to  make  the  recol- 
lection of  thoughts  impossible,  he  never  intermitted  study,  but 
rather  re-inforced  it  then  as  the  most  appropriate  revulsive  and 
diversion  of  pain.  The  gout  by  its  most  frequent  and  importu- 
nate returns  exceeded  his  other  maladies  ;  in  which  although  the 
first  most  furious  assaults  were  sure  to  beat  him  from  his  study, 
and  for  a  time  confine  him  to  his  bed,  yet  as  soon  as  he  had  reco- 
vered his  chair,  he  resumed  his  pen  too,  and  plyed  it  as  hard  as 
though  he  had  ailed  nothing. 

Next  to  downright  idleness  he  disliked  slow  and  dilatory  under- 
takings, thinking  it  a  great  folly  to  spend  that  time  in  gazing 
upon  business  which  should  have  served  for  the  doing  of  it.  In 
his  own  practice  he  never  considered  longer  than  till  he  could 
discern  whether  the  thing  proposed  was  fit  or  not :  when  that 
was  seen,  he  immediately  set  to  work.  When  he  had  perfected 
one  business,  he  could  not  endure  to  have  his  thoughts  lie  fallow, 
but  was  presently  consulting  what  next  to  set  about. 

But  when  we  reckon  up  and  audit  the  expences  of  the  doctor's 
time,  we  cannot  pass  his  constant  tribute  of  it  paid  by  him  to 
heaven  in  the  offices  of  prayer;  which  took  up  so  liberal  propor- 
tions of  each  day  unto  itself  for  the  ten  last  years  of  his  life,  ,-m<l 
probably  the  preceding.  Besides  occasional  and  supernumerary 
addresses,  his  certain  perpetual  returns  exceeded  David's  seven 
times  a  day.  As  MM.M  .is  he  was  ready  (which  was  usually  early) 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  369 

he  prayed  in  his  chamber  with  his  servant,  in  a  peculiar  form 
composed  for  that  purpose.  After  this  he  retired  to  his  own  more 
secret  devotions  in  his  closet.  Betwixt  ten  and  eleven  in  the 
morning  he  had  a  solemn  intercession  in  reference  to  the  national 
calamities :  to  this  after  a  little  distance  succeeded  the  morning 
office  of  the  church,  which  he  particularly  desired  to  perform  in 
his  own  person,  and  would  by  no  means  accept  the  ease  of  having 
it  read  by  any  other.  In  the  afternoon  he  had  another  hour  of 
private  prayer,  which  on  Sundays  he  enlarged,  and  so  religiously 
observed,  that  if  any  necessary  business  or  charity  had  diverted 
him  at  the  usual  time,  he  repaired  his  soul  at  the  cost  of  his  body? 
and,  notwithstanding  the  injunctions  of  his  physicians,  which  in 
other  cases  he  was  careful  to  obey,  spent  the  supper- time  therein. 
About  five  of  the  clock  the  solemn  private  prayers  for  the  nation, 
and  the  evening  service  of  the  church  returned.  At  bedtime  his 
private  prayers  closed  the  day :  and  after  all,  even  the  night  was 
not  without  its  office,  the  LI.  Psalm  being  his  designed  midnight 
entertainment 3. 

In  his  prayers  as  his  attention  was  fixed  and  steady,  so  was  it 
inflamed  with  passionate  fervors,  insomuch  that  very  frequently 
his  transport  threw  him  prostrate  on  the  earth ;  his  tears  also 
would  interrupt  his  words :  the  latter  happening  not  only  upon 
the  pungent  exigencies  of  present  or  impending  judgments,  but  in 
the  common  service  of  the  church  :  which,  notwithstanding  his 
concealments,  being  taken  notice  of  by  a  person  of  good  suffi- 
ciency, once  a  member  of  his  house  in  Oxford,  that  became  of 
late  years  a  proselyte  to  the  new  extemporary  way,  he,  among  his 
other  topics  whereby  he  thought  to  disparage  set  forms,  used  in 
discourse  to  urge  the  heartless  coldness  of  them,  and  to  adorn  his 
triumph,  would  make  it  his  solemn  wonder  how  a  person  of  so 
good  parts  as  Dr.  Hammond  was  certainly  master  of,  could  find 
motive  for  his  tears  4  in  the  confession  in  the  beginning  of  the 

3  Midnight  entertainment. ,]  Compare  above  vol.  iii.  p.  6.  n.  Life  of  Bishop 
Ridley. 

4  Motive  for  his  tears.']  "  In  the  antient  forms  of  the  church,  and  therefore 
in  ours,  which  are  mostly  antient,  there  is  a  strength,  an  energy,  a  savour,  an 
unction,  I  know  not  what  to  call  it,  not  to  be  found  in  the  composition  of 
modern  prayers,  not  even  those  (begging  the  pardon  of  the  composers)  which 
are  premeditated,  and  drawn  up  with  deliberation ;  and  much  less  of  others 
that  are  unpremeditated  and  extemporary.     For  instance,  the  Te  Deum  of 
St.  Ambrose,  which  we,  you  know,  have  received  into  our  liturgy.     For  my 
own  part,  I  am  not  yet,  after  more  than  the  thousandth  time  of  using  it,  tired 

VOL.  IV.  B  b 


370  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

liturgy.  So  much  does  passion  and  misguided  zeal  transport  the 
most  sensible,  that  this  man,  otherwise  sagacious  enough,  never 
considered  how  ill  an  instance  he  had  made ;  which  shewed  it  was 
the  coldness  of  the  votary,  and  not  the  prayer,  that  was  in  fault, 
whenever  fervour  was  deficient  at  the  public  office  of  the  church. 

The  charity  and  extent  of  his  prayers  was  as  exuberant  as  the 
zeal  and  fervour :  he  thought  it  very  unreasonable  that  our  inter- 
cessions should  not  be  as  universal  as  our  Saviour's  redemption 
was :  and  would  complain  of  that  thrift  and  narrowness  of  mind 
to  which  we  are  so  prone,  confining  our  care  either  to  ourselves 
and  relatives,  or  at  most  to  those  little  angles  of  the  world  that 
most  immediately  concerned  us,  and  which  on  due  account  bear 
very  low  proportion  to  the  whole.  There  was  no  emergent  dis- 
tress however  remote,  but  it  enlarged  his  Litany ;  every  year's 
harvest  and  new  birth  of  mischiefs,  which  for  several  ones  past 
constantly  fell  on  the  orthodox  and  loyal  party  in  the  nation, 
removed  itself  from  the  sanguinary  edicts  of  the  tyrant,  to  be 
transcribed  and  expiated  by  his  pathetical  office  of  devotion.  In 
which  calendar  and  rubric  the  thirtieth  of  January  was  sure  to 
have  a  very  solemn  place,  and  a  peculiar  service  prepared  for  it. 

Nor  did  he  only  take  to  heart  general  national  concernments, 
but  even  the  more  private  exigencies  of  the  sick  and  weak  had  a 

with  it :  and  now,  when  I  rehearse  it  in  the  church,  am  otherwise  elevated 
and  affected  with  the  noble  simplicity  thereof,  than,  I  am  fully  persuaded,  I 
ever  should  be  with  the  most  trim,  polite,  or  spirited  orations  of  your  popular 
and  admired  ministers,  and  much  less  with  the  natter  and  coarser  ones  of 
many  others.  I  may  also  instance  in  divers  other  parts  of  our  daily  service, 
and  in  the  whole  of  the  communion  office ;  which  some  of  yourselves  have 
allowed  to  be  admirable,  and  I  will  venture  to  say  none  can  use,  though  he 
had  used  it  before  ever  so  often,  with  any  formality  or  deadness  of  spirit, 
unless  he  has  a  heart  so  frozen,  and  utterly  estranged  from  all  devotion,  as 
to  be  incapable  of  being  wrought  up  to  it  by  any  means  whatever."  Letter 
concerning  the  popular  Pleas  of  Dissenters,  by  John  White,  B.D.  p.  45.  Lon- 
don, 1745,  8vo. 

"  Till  this  time  "  (says  one,  who  was  afterwards  deservedly  famous  for 
his  extemporary  effusions,  both  in  prayer  and  in  preaching,  the  eminent 
Richard  Baxter,  speaking  of  his  younger  years)  "  I  was  satisfied  in  the 
matter  of  conformity.  Whilst  I  was  young  I  had  never  been  acquainted 
with  any  that  were  against  it,  or  that  questioned  it.  I  had  joined  with  the 
Common  Prayer  with  as  hearty  fervency  as  afterwards  I  did  with  other 
prayers.  As  long  as  1  had  no  prejudice  against  it,  I  had  no  stop  in  my 
>li  votions  from  any  of  its  imperfections."  Baxter's  Life  and  Times,  part  i. 
p.  13. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  371 

staple  interest  in  his  prayers.  Among  all  which  none  had  so 
liberal  a  part  as  they  that  merited  them  least,  yet  wanted  them 
most ;  his  and  (what  was  usually  the  same  thing)  the  church's  and 
God's  enemies.  He  never  thought  he  had  assured  his  forgiveness 
of  injuries  unless  he  returned  good  for  them  ;  and  though  other 
opportunities  of  this  best  kind  of  retaliation  might  fail  him,  that 
of  his  intercessions  never  did. 

Three  persons  there  were  who  above  all  men  by  unworthy 
malice  and  impotent  virulence  had  highly  disobliged  him  :  but  he 
in  recompence  of  their  guilt  had  a  peculiar  daily  prayer  purposely 
in  their  behalf:  and  though  in  the  openness  of  his  conversation 
with  his  most  intimate  acquaintance  he  confessed  thus  much,  yet 
he  never  named  the  persons,  though  probably  that  was  the  only 
thing  which  he  concealed ;  it  being  his  method  to  withhold  no- 
thing especially  of  confidence  or  privacy,  from  one  he  owned  as 
friend. 

And  having  mentioned  the  name  of  friend,  however  incident- 
ally, we  must  not  leave  it  without  homage  ;  friendship  being  the 
next  sacred  thing  unto  religion  in  the  apprehensions  of  our  excel- 
lent doctor,  a  virtue  of  which  he  was  a  passionate  lover,  and  with 
which  he  ever  seemed  to  have  contracted  friendship.  The  union 
of  minds  thereby  produced  he  judged  the  utmost  point  of  human 
happiness,  the  very  best  production  that  nature  has  in  store,  or 
grows  from  earth.  So  that  with  compassion  he  reflected  on  their 
ignorance  who  were  strangers  to  it,  saying  that  "  such  must  needs 
lead  a  pitiful  insipid  herb-John-like  life." 

Upon  this  ground  he  used  with  all  industrious  art  to  recom- 
mend and  propagate  friendship  unto  others  ;  and  where  he  saw 
several  persons  that  he  judged  capable  of  being  made  acquainted 
to  mutual  advantage,  he  would  contrive  that  league ;  and  where 
himself  had  kindness  unto  any  so  allied,  he  would  still  enjoin  them 
to  be  kinder  to  each  other  than  to  him ;  besides,  he  still  laboured 
to  make  all  his  friends  endeared  to  each  of  them :  resolving  it  to 
be  an  error  bottomed  on  the  common  narrowness  of  soul  which 
represented  amity  like  sensual  love,  to  admit  no  rivals,  confined 
unto  two  persons. 

When  he  ever  happened  to  see  or  be  in  company  with  such  as  had 
an  intimate  and  hearty  kindness  for  each  other,  he  would  be  much 
transported  in  the  contemplation  of  it,  and  where  it  was  season- 
able, would  openly  acknowledge  that  his  satisfaction. 

In  the  list  and  number  of  his  friends  there  chanced  to  be  three 

B  b  2 


372  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

persons,  who  having  in  their  youth  contracted  a  strict  intimacy, 
had  undertaken  the  same  profession :  and  accordingly  had  the 
same  common  studies  and  designments,  and  with  these  the  oppor- 
tunity through  the  late  troubles  to  live  in  view  of  each  other : 
whom  for  that  reason  he  was  used  with  an  obliging  envy  to  pro- 
nounce "  the  most  happy  men  the  nation  had." 

Accordingly  he  professed  that  for  his  particular  "  he  had  no 
such  way  of  enjoying  any  thing  as  by  reflection  from  the  person 
whom  he  loved ;  so  that  his  friend^s  being  happy  was  the  readiest 
way  to  make  him  so."  Therefore  when  one  eminently  near  to 
him  in  that  relation  was  careless  of  health,  his  most  pressing 
argument  was  his  complaint  of  unkindness  to  him.  And  this  way 
of  measuring  felicities  was  so  natural  to  him,  that  it  would  occur 
even  in  the  most  trivial  instances :  when  there  has  been  any  thing 
at  the  table  peculiarly  wholesome  in  relation  to  his  infirmities,  if 
his  friend,  who  was  in  a  like  weak  condition,  forbare  to  eat  of  it 
in  civility  to  him,  he  would  with  vehemence  of  grief  resent  it  as 
his  singular  unhappiness  after  so  many  professions  not  to  be  be- 
lieved, "  that  he  had  a  thousand  times  rather  that  his  friend 
should  have  that  which  was  conducible  to  health,  than  to  have  it 
himself;"  and  then  assumed,  "that  if  this  were  believed,  it  were 
impossible  any  one  should  attempt  to  express  kindness  by  robbing 
him  of  his  greatest  pleasure." 

The  principal  thing  he  contracted  for  in  friendship  was  a  free 
use  of  mutual  admonition ;  which  he  confined  not  to  the  grosser 
guilts  which  enemies  and  common  fame  were  likely  to  observe  and 
mind  men  of,  but  extended  it  unto  prudential  failings,  indecen- 
cies, and  even  suspicious  and  barely  doubtful  actions :  nay  beyond 
that,  unto  those  virtuous  ones  which  might  have  been  improved 
and  rendered  better.  He  was  used  to  say,  "  it  was  a  poor  design 
of  friendship  to  keep  the  person  he  admitted  to  his  breast  only 
from  being  scandalous,  as  if  the  physician  should  endeavour  only  to 
secure  his  patient  from  the  plague."  And  what  he  thus  articled 
for,  he  punctually  himself  performed,  and  exacted  back  again  to 
be  returned  unto  himself. 

And  if  for  any  while  he  observed  that  no  remembrance  had 
been  offered  to  him,  he  grew  afraid  and  almost  jealous  of  the 
omission,  suspecting  that  the  courtier  had  supplanted  the  friend, 
and  therefore  earnestly  enforced  the  obligation  of  being  faithful 
in  this  point :  and  when  with  much  ado  somewhat  of  advertise- 
ment was  picked  up,  he  received  it  always  as  huge  kindness ;  and 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  373 

though  the  whole  ground  of  it  happened  to  be  mistake,  yet  he 
still  returned  most  affectionate  thanks. 

His  good- will  when  placed  on  any  was  so  fixed  and  rooted,  that 
even  supervening  vice,  to  which  he  had  the  greatest  detestation 
imaginable,  could  not  easily  remove  it,  the  abhorrency  of  their 
guilts  leaving  not  only  a  charity  but  tenderness  to  their  persons ; 
and,  as  he  has  profest,  his  concernment  rather  increased  than 
lessened  by  this  means,  compassion  being  in  that  instance  added 
unto  love.  There  were  but  two  things  which  (he  would  say)  were 
apt  to  give  check  to  his  affections,  pride  and  falseness :  where  he 
saw  these  predominant,  he  thought  he  could  never  be  a  friend  to 
any  purpose,  because  he  could  never  hope  to  do  any  good ;  yet 
even  there  he  would  intend  his  prayers,  so  much  the  more  by  how 
much  the  less  he  could  do  besides.  But  where  he  saw  a  mal- 
leable honest  temper,  a  Jacob's  plain  simplicity,  nothing  could 
there  discourage  him ;  and  however  inadvertency  or  passion,  or 
haply  some  worse  ingredient,  might  frustrate  his  design,  he  would 
attend  the  mollia  tempora,  as  he  called  them,  those  gentle  and 
more  treatable  opportunities  which  might  at  last  be  offered.  He 
so  much  abhorred  artifice  and  cunning,  that  he  had  prejudice  to 
all  concealments  and  pretensions.  He  used  to  say  he  hated  a 
non-causa,  and  he  had  a  strange  sagacity  in  discovering  it.  When 
any  with  much  circumlocution  and  contrivance  had  endeavoured 
to  shadow  their  main  drift  and  purpose,  he  would  immediately 
look  through  all  those  mists,  and  where  it  was  in  any  degree 
seasonable,  would  make  it  appear  he  did  so :  his  charity  of 
fraternal  correption  having  only  this  caution  or  restraint,  the 
hearer's  interest,  of  which  he  judged,  that  when  advice  did  not  do 
good,  it  was  hardly  separable  from  doing  harm ;  and  on  this 
ground  sometimes  he  did  desist.  But  wheresoever  he  gave  an 
admonition,  he  prefaced  it  always  with  such  demonstrations  of 
tenderness  and  good-will,  as  could  not  fail  to  convince  of  the  affec- 
tionate kindness  with  which  it  was  sent,  though  it  could  not  of 
the  convenience  or  necessity  to  embrace  it.  And  this  he  gave  as 
a  general  rule,  and  enforced  by  his  example,  never  to  reprove  in 
anger  or  the  least  appearance  of  it.  If  the  passion  were  real, 
that  then  was  evidently  a  fault,  and  the  guilty  person  most  unfit 
to  be  a  judge  :  if  it  were  resemblance  only,  yet  even  that  would 
be  so  like  to  guilt,  as  probably  to  divert  the  offender  from  the 
consideration  of  his  failance  to  fasten  on  his  monitor,  and  make 


374  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

him  think  he  was  chid  not  because  he  was  in  fault,  but  because 
the  other  was  angry. 

Indeed  the  person  who  would  not  be  some  way  moved  with  his 
advices  must  be  strangely  insensate  and  ill-natured.  Though  his 
exhortations  had  as  much  evidence  and  weight  as  words  could 
give  them,  he  had  over  and  above  a  great  advantage  in  his  manner 
of  speaking :  his  little  phrase,  "  Don't  be  simple,"  had  more  power 
to  charm  a  passion  than  long  harangues  from  others ;  and  very 
many  who  loved  not  piety  in  itself,  nor  to  be  troubled  with  the 
news  of  it,  would  be  well  pleased  to  be  invited  and  advised  by 
him,  and  venerated  the  same  matter  in  his  language  which  they 
have  derided  in  another's. 

He  would  say,  "  he  delighted  to  be  loved,  not  reverenced ;" 
thinking  that  where  there  was  much  of  the  latter,  there  could  not 
be  enough  of  the  former ;  somewhat  of  restraint  and  distance 
attending  on  the  one,  which  was  not  well  consistent  with  the  per- 
fect freedom  requisite  to  the  other.  But  as  he  was  thus  no  friend 
to  ceremonious  respect,  he  was  an  open  enemy  to  flattery,  espe- 
cially from  a  friend,  from  whom  he  started  to  meet  the  slightest 
appearance  of  that  servile  kindness.  Having  upon  occasion  com- 
municated a  purpose  against  which  there  happened  to  lie  some 
objections,  they  being  by  a  friend  of  his  represented  to  him,  he 
immediately  was  convinced,  and  assumed  other  counsels.  But  in 
process  of  discourse  it  happened  something  fell  in  that  brought  to 
mind  a  passage  of  a  late  sermon  of  the  doctor's,  which  that  per- 
son having  been  affected  with,  innocently  mentioned  such  appre- 
hensions of  it,  and  so  passed  on  to  talk  of  other  matters.  The 
next  day  the  doctor  having  recollected  that  probably  the  approba- 
tion given  to  the  passage  of  the  sermon  might  be  an  after-design 
to  allay  the  plain-dealing  which  preceded  it,  expostulated  his  sur- 
mise, protesting  "  that  nothing  in  the  world  could  more  avert  his 
love  and  deeply  disoblige  him,  than  such  unfaithfulness."  But 
being  assured  that  there  was  no  such  art  or  contrivance  meant, 
he  gladly  found,  and  readily  yielded  himself  to  have  been  mistaken. 
— In  other  cases  he  was  no  way  inclinable  to  entertain  doubts  of 
his  friends'*  kindness :  but  if  any  irregularity  chanced  to  inter- 
vene, and  cause  misapprehensions,  he  gave  them  not  leave  to  root 
and  fasten  by  concealment,  but  immediately  produced  his  ground 
<>l  jralnusy ;  and  exacted  the  like  measure  back  again,  if  his  own 
•  •••dings  fell  at  any  time  under  a  doubtful  or  unkind  apj- 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  375 

ance.  This  he  thought  a  justice  essential  to  friendship,  without 
which  it  could  not  possibly  subsist :  for  we  think  not  fit  to  con- 
demn the  most  notorious  malefactor  before  he  hath  had  license  to 
propose  his  plea ;  and  sure  it  is  more  strangely  barbarous  to  treat 
a  friend,  or  rather  friendship  itself,  with  less  regard. 

To  the  performances  of  friendship  he  hated  all  mercenary 
returns,  whereof  he  was  so  jealous,  as  hardly  to  leave  place  for 
gratitude.  "  Love,"  he  said,  "  was  built  upon  the  union  and 
similitude  of  minds,  and  not  the  bribes  of  gifts  and  benefits."  So 
generous  was  he  herein,  that  he  has  oft  profest,  he  "  admitted 
retributions  of  good  turns,  yet  not  so  much  on  any  score,  as  that 
his  friend  might  have  the  pleasure  of  being  kind." 

There  was  a  person  of  quality,  a  great  and  long  sufferer  in  the 
late  times  of  trial,  to  whom  the  doctor  had  frequently  sent  sup- 
plies, and  continued  so  to  do,  till  there  happened  at  last  a  change 
in  the  condition  of  the  correspondent,  such  a  one  as,  if  it  did  not 
supersede  the  need  of  farther  assistance,  yet  gave  promise  of  an 
approaching  affluence  ;  whereupon  the  doctor  feared  the  adding  a 
new  obligation  in  this  conjuncture  of  affairs  might  seem  a  piece 
of  design  rather  than  kindness  or  charity  :  and  though  this  sug- 
gestion was  not  of  force  to  divert  his  purpose,  it  proved  sufficient 
to  suspend  it,  till  by  inquiry  he  found  his  designed  present  would 
be  a  relief,  and  then  he  thought  it  an  impertinence  to  consider 
what  it  could  be  called  besides. 

But  doing  good  to  relatives  or  being  kind  unto  acquaintance 
were  low  expressions  of  this  virtue  we  exhibit.  Misery  and  want, 
where- ere  he  met  with  them,  sufficiently  endeared  the  object. 
His  alms  were  as  exuberant  as  his  love ;  and  in  calamities  to  the 
exigence  he  never  was  a  stranger,  whatever  he  might  be  to  the 
man  that  suffered. 

And  here  the  first  preparative  was  to  leave  himself  no  motive 
to  resist  or  slight  the  opportunities  of  giving ;  which  he  com- 
passed by  being  a  steward  to  himself  as  well  as  unto  God,  and 
parting  still  with  the  propriety  of  a  set  portion  of  his  estate,  that 
when  at  any  time  he  relieved  the  wants  of  any,  he  might  become 
no  whit  the  poorer  by  his  gift,  have  only  the  content  of  giving, 
and  the  ease  of  being  rid  of  keeping  another's  money.  The  rate 
and  sum  of  what  he  thus  devoted  was  the  tenth  of  all  his  income ; 
wherein  he  was  so  strictly  punctual,  that  commonly  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  compute  and  separate  the  poor  man's  share.  To 
this  he  added  every  week  five  shillings,  which  had  been  his  lowest 


376  DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND. 

proportion  in  the  heat  of  the  war  in  Oxford,  when  he  lived  upon 
his  Penshurst  stock,  and  had  no  visible  means  or  almost  possibi- 
lity of  supply.  Over  and  above  this  he  completed  the  devotions 
of  his  weekly  fast  by  joining  alms  thereto,  and  adding  twenty 
shillings  to  the  poor  man's  heap. 

These  were  his  debts  to  charity,  the  established  fixed  revenue 
of  the  indigent ;  in  the  dispensation  of  which  he  was  so  religiously 
careful,  that  if  at  any  time  he  happened  to  be  in  doubt  whether 
he  had  set  apart  his  charitable  proportions,  he  always  past  sen- 
tence against  himself,  resolving  it  much  better  to  run  the  hazard 
of  having  paid  the  same  debt  twice,  than  to  incur  the  possibility 
of  not  having  done  it  once.  But  beyond  these  he  had  his  free- 
will offerings,  and  those  proportioned  more  by  the  occasion  of 
giving,  than  the  surplusage  he  had  to  give.  His  poor  man's  bag 
had  so  many  mouths,  and  those  so  often  opened,  that  it  frequently 
became  quite  empty ;  but  its  being  so  never  diverted  him  from 
relieving  any  that  appeared  in  need ;  for  in  such  seasons  he  chose 
to  give  in  more  liberal  proportions  than  at  others. 

In  the  time  of  the  war  at  Oxford,  to  pass  by  other  lesser 
reliefs,  and  many  great  ones,  which  his  industrious  concealment 
lias  preserved  from  all  notice  of  the  most  diligent  enquiry,  though 
he  were  then  at  a  very  low  ebb,  he  furnished  an  indigent  friend 
with  sixty  pound,  which  never  was  repaid  him:  as  also  upon 
another  score  he  parted  with  twenty  pound,  and  another  consider- 
able sum  besides  that :  and  to  one  in  distress  about  the  same 
time  and  on  the  same  occasion  an  hundred  pound. 

Instead  of  hiding  his  face  from  the  poor,  it  was  his  practice 
still  to  seek  for  theirs.  Those  persons  whom  he  trusted  with 
(his  greatest  secret  and  greatest  business)  his  charity,  seldom 
had  recourse  to  him,  but  he  would  make  enquiry  for  new  pension- 
ers: and  though  he  had  in  several  parts  of  the  nation  those 
whom  he  employed  to  find  out  indigent  persons,  and  dispose  his 
largess  to  them,  and  though  the  tyranny  that  then  prevailed 
made  every  day  store  of  such ;  his  covetous  bounty  still  grasped 
for  more.  Besides  his  ordinary  provision  for  the  neighbouring 
poor,  and  those  that  came  to  look  him  out  in  his  retirement, 
(which  were  not  few ;  for  that  the  liberal  man  dwells  always  in 
the  road)  his  catalogue  had  an  especial  place  for  sequestered 
divines,  their  wives  and  orphans;  for  young  students  in  the 
universities,  and  also  those  divines  that  were  abroad  in  banish- 
ment :  where  over  and  above  his  frequent  occasional  reliefs  to 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  377 

the  last  of  these,  the  exiled  clergy,  besides  what  he  procured 
from  others,  he  sent  constantly  over  year  by  year  a  very  con- 
siderable sum,  such  a  one  as  men  of  far  greater  revenues  do  not 
use  upon  any  occasion  to  put  into  the  corban,  and  give  away, 
much  less  as  a  troublesome  excrescence  every  year  prune  off,  and 
cast  from  their  estates. 

Now  if  we  enquire  into  the  stock  and  fountain  that  was  to  feed 
all  these  disbursements,  it  was  at  his  flight  from  Penshurst 
barely  three  hundred  pounds ;  which,  at  the  sale  of  a  lease  left 
him  for  his  portion  from  his  father,  and  the  assistance  of  his 
prebend  in  Christ-church,  after  all  his  lavish  charities  during 
those  years,  was  near  upon  a  thousand.  The  taking  of  use 
though  he  judged  lawful,  yet  never  approved  by  practice,  but 
lent  still  gratis  both  to  friends  and  strangers.  The  only  other 
way  he  had  of  income  was  the  buying  of  leases  for  years,  and  the 
printing  of  his  books ;  from  the  latter  of  which  when  there  is 
defaulked  the  many  whole  editions  he  had  nothing  for,  the  charge 
he  was  at  in  the  sending  of  his  copies  before  he  printed  them 
unto  his  friends  for  their  animadversions  and  advices,  his  sending 
them  sheet  by  sheet  when  printed,  and  surveying  the  revises,  and 
the  great  numbers  he  gave  away  to  his  acquaintance,  it  will 
appear  that  the  remainder  was  but  a  slight  matter.  As  for 
private  contributions  or  assistance  of  that  kind,  he  had  never 
any :  for  though  there  were  many  who  would  gladly  have  made 
those  oblations,  yet  he  industriously  prevented  them  by  publicly 
avowing  that  he  needed  not.  In  which  refusal  he  was  so  peremp- 
tory, that  when  being  in  Oxford  made  prisoner  at  the  sign  of  the 
Bear,  thence  to  be  sent  immediately  to  Wallingford  castle,  a 
gentleman,  perfectly  a  stranger  to  him,  and  coming  by  chance  to 
the  inn,  and  hearing  of  his  condition,  having  fifty  pieces  by  him, 
would  needs  have  presented  them  to  him;  though  the  doctor 
had  before  him  the  barbarous  usage  of  his  brethren,  clapped  on 
ship-board  under  hatches,  the  like  to  which  he  might  probably 
enough  meet  with ;  and  though  this  extraordinary  occurrence 
seemed  to  carry  with  it  somewhat  of  providential  designment ; 
yet  he  wholly  refused  the  offer;  as  afterwards  he  did  a  far 
greater  sum  from  a  person  of  honour  that  courted  him  with  it. 
Only  one  twenty  pound  he  was  surprised  by,  and  thought  fit  to 
accept,  which  after  some  dispute  with  himself  he  did  upon  these 
two  grounds :  first,  that  he  might  not  gratify  the  pride,  from 
whence  he  was  used  to  say  men's  reluctancies  to  receive  benefits 


378  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

proceeded ;  and  secondly,  that  he  might  not  give  the  gentleman 
the  discomfiture  of  seeing  he  had  made  an  unseasonable  offer. 

But  with  all  this  disproportioned  expence  unto  revenue  (a  thing 
which  after  a  very  deliberate  and  strict  enquiry  remains  riddle 
still,  and  an  event  next  door  to  miracle)  the  doctor  daily  improved 
in  his  estate,  and  grew  in  spight  of  all  his  liberality  rich,  being 
worth  at  the  time  of  his  death  about  1500£,  which  yet  we  are  not 
to  marvel  should  be  strange  to  us,  since  it  was  so  to  the  doctor 
himself,  who  often  professed  to  wonder  at  it,  and  thereupon  would 
apply  this  axiom,  "  that  half  is  more  than  the  whole,"  his  mean 
revenue  by  being  scattered  in  the  worst  of  times  growing  upon 
him,  when  others  that  had  great  ones,  by  griping  made  them  less, 
and  grew  stark  beggars. 

As  the  doctor  was  thus  charitable,  so  was  he  genteel  and  libe- 
ral ;  his  openness  of  hand  in  secular  occasions  was  proportionable 
to  that  in  sacred.  When  any  one  had  sent  him  a  slight  present 
of  apples  or  the  like,  his  reward  would  usually  much  exceed  the 
value ;  and  he  would  be  so  well  pleased  to  have  such  an  occasion 
of  giving  to  a  servant,  saying,  "  Alas,  poor  soul,  I  warrant  he  is 
glad  of  this  little  matter,"  that  this  seemed  a  part  of  the  sender's 
courtesy.  Thus  if  there  happened  any  other  occasion  of  giving, 
or  of  gratifying,  or  advancing  public  works,  (for  instance  the 
great  Bible 5,  upon  which  he  was  out  501. ;  and  reimbursed  him- 
self only  by  selling  two.  copies,)  he  would  be  sure  to  do  it  at  a 
free  and  highly  ingenuous  rate.  So  that  he  was  sparing  only  to 
himself,  and  that  upon  no  other  principle,  but  thereby  to  be 
liberal  to  those  he  loved  better  than  himself,  the  necessitous  and 
poor.  A  pregnant  instance  whereof  may  be,  that  the  doctor 
upon  occasion  calculating  his  expences  on  himself,  found  them  to 
be  not  above  five  pound  in  the  year. 

Besides  this,  he  had  a  further  impediment  to  riches,  an  easiness 
which  alone  has  wasted  other  men's  estates;  he  commonly  mak- 
ing those  he  dealt  with  their  own  arbitrators,  and  if  they  seriously 
professed  they  could  go  no  higher,  he  descended  to  their  terms. 
saying  commonly,  that  "  this  trash  was  not  worth  much  ado." 
And  beyond  this  he  was  so  careless  after  bargains,  that  he  never 
received  script  of  paper  of  any  to  whom  he  lent,  nor  bond  of  any 
for  performance  of  covenants,  till  very  lately  from  two  persons, 
when  he  found  it  necessary  to  use  that  method  with  them.  1 1« 

5  The  great  Bible.]  Bishop  Walton's  Polyglot. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  379 

was  used  to  say,  "  that  if  he  thought  men  knaves  he  would  not 
deal  with  them  ;  and  if  indeed  they  were  so,  it  was  not  all  his 
circumspection  that  could  prevent  a  cheat :  on  the  other  side, 
if  they  were  honest,  they  needed  no  such  caution."  And  pos- 
sibly, if  we  consider  the  whole  matter,  there  was  not  such  impru- 
dence in  the  manage  as  at  first  appears  :  for  bonds  would  have 
signified  little  to  him,  who  in  the  best  times  would  scarce  have 
put  them  in  suit ;  but  would  certainly  have  starved  before  he 
would  have  made  an  application  to  those  judicatories  which  of 
late  prevailed,  and  usurped  the  protection  as  well  as  the  posses- 
sion of  men's  rights,  and  were  injurious  not  only  in  their  oppres- 
sions but  reliefs. 

In  those  black  days,  being  charged  with  the  debt  of  about  fifty 
or  sixty  pounds,  formerly  by  him  paid,  being  offered  a  release  if 
he  would  take  his  oath  of  payment,  he  thought  the  condition  too 
unequal,  and  was  resolved  to  double  his  payment  rather  than  per- 
form it :  but  a  farther  enquiry  having  cleared  the  account,  he 
incurred  not  that  penalty. 

To  a  friend  of  his  who,  by  the  falseness  of  a  correspondent 
whom  he  trusted,  was  reduced  to  some  extremity,  and  enquired 
what  course  he  took  to  escape  such  usage,  the  doctor  wrote  as 
follows  : 

u  To  your  doubt  concerning  myself,  I  thank  God  I  am  able  to 
answer  you,  that  I  never  suffered  in  my  life  for  want  of  hand  or 
seal,  but  think  I  have  fared  much  better  than  they  that  have 
always  been  careful  to  secure  themselves  by  these  cautions.  I 
remember  I  was  wont  to  reproach  an  honest  fellow-prebend  of 
mine,  that  whensoever  a  siege  was  near,  always  sent  away  what 
he  most  valued  to  some  other  garrison  or  friend,  and  seldom  ever 
met  with  any  again,  the  solicitude  was  still  their  ruin :  whereas  I 
venturing  myself  and  my  cabinet  in  the  same  bottom,  never  lost 
any  thing  of  this  kind.  And  the  like  I  have  practised  in  this 
other  instance.  Whom  I  trusted  to  be  my  friend,  all  I  had  was 
in  his  power,  and  by  God's  blessing  I  was  never  deceived  in  my 
trust.1' 

And  here  amidst  all  these  unlikelihoods  and  seeming  impossi- 
bilities, riches  thrust  themslves  upon  him,  and  would  take  no 
refusal ;  it  pleasing  God,  since  he  had  exemplified  the  advices  of 
his  Practical  Catechism  to  the  duties  of  alms  and  charitable  dis- 
tributions, in  him  also  to  make  good  and  signally  exemplify  the 
assurance  he  there  and  elsewhere  made  in  the  behalf  of  almighty 


380  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

God  upon  such  performance, — the  giving  affluence  of  temporal 
wealth.  Nor  was  he  the  single  instance  of  this  truth  ;  as  he  had 
proselytes  to  the  speculative  verity,  he  had  partisans  also  of  the 
effect  and  real  issue  of  it.  About  four  years  since  a  person  of 
good  estate,  and  without  charge  of  children,  coming  to  visit  the 
doctor,  among  other  discourse  happened  to  speak  of  the  late  dean 
of  Worcester,  Dr.  Potter  (whose  memory,  for  his  remarkable 
charity  and  all  other  excellencies  befitting  his  profession  and  dig- 
nity in  the  church,  is  precious)  :  this  gentleman  there  related, 
that  formerly  enquiring  of  the  dean  how  it  was  possible  for  one 
that  had  so  great  a  charge  of  children,  was  so  hospitable  in  his 
entertainment,  and  profuse  in  liberality,  not  only  to  subsist,  but 
to  grow  rich,  he  answered,  that  several  years  before  he  happened 
to  be  present  at  a  sermon  at  St.  PauFs  Cross,  where  the  preacher 
recommending  the  duty  of  alms  and  plentiful  giving,  assured  his 
auditory  that  that  was  the  certainest  way  to  compass  riches.  He 
moved  therewith,  thenceforward  resolved  diligently  to  follow  the 
counsel  and  expect  the  issue  ;  which  was  such  as  now  created  so 
much  wonder. — It  fortuned  that  at  that  time  when  this  was  tell- 
ing, the  doctor's  Aeurepat  $povr?&c  were  newly  come  out,  and 
therewith  this  sermon  of  the  Poor  man's  tithing.  He  therefore 
willing  to  improve  the  opportunity,  confessed  that  he  himself  was 
that  preacher  which  doctor  Potter  referred  to,  and  that  there 
was  the  very  sermon  :  which  immediately  giving  to  this  visitant, 
he  desired  almighty  God  it  might  have  the  like  effect  on  him  ; 
and  so  after  a  short  civility  dismissed  him. 

As  to  the  way  and  very  manner  of  his  charity,  even  that  was 
a  part  of  his  donation  and  largess.  One  great  care  of  his  was 
to  dispose  of  his  reliefs  so  as  to  be  most  seasonable;  to  which 
purpose  he  had  his  spies  and  agents  still  employed  to  give 
him  punctual  notice  of  the  occurrents  in  their  several  stations. 
His  next  endeavour  was  to  dispense  them  so  as  to  be  most  en- 
dearing. To  persons  that  had  been  of  quality  he  consulted  to 
relieve  their  modesty  as  well  as  needs,  taking  order  they  should 
rather  find  than  receive  alms ;  and  knowing  well  they  were  pro- 
vided for,  should  not  yet  be  able  to  guess  by  what  means  they 
were  so.  To  those  who  were  assisted  immediately  from  his  hand, 
he  over  and  above  bestowed  the  charities  of  his  familiar  and 
hearty  kindness :  in  the  expressiveness  of  which  he  was  not  only 
assisted  by  his  habitual  humility,  or  positive  opinion,  upon  which 
he  was  used  to  say,  "that  it  was  a  most  unreasonable  and 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  381 

unchristian  thing  to  despise  any  one  for  his  poverty  :"  but  much 
more  by  the  pleasure  and  transport  which  the  very  act  of  giving 
transfused  into  him :  which  whosoever  noted,  stood  in  need  of  no 
other  proof  of  the  truth  of  his  usual  affirmation,  "  That  it  was 
one  of  the  greatest  sensualities  in  the  world  to  give."  Upon 
which  consideration  he  often  took  occasion  to  magnify  the 
exceeding  indulgence  of  God,  that  had  annexed  future  rewards 
to  that  which  was  so  amply  its  own  recompence. 

Another  circumstance  in  the  doctor's  liberality  not  to  be 
passed  over,  was  his  choice  of  what  he  gave  ;  his  care  that  it 
should  not  be  of  things  vile  and  refuse,  but  of  the  very  best  he 
had. — It  happened  that  a  servant  in  the  family  being  troubled 
with  the  gout,  the  doctor  gave  order  that  he  should  have  some 
of  the  plaister  which  he  used  in  the  like  extremity ;  but  the  store 
of  that  being  almost  spent,  the  person  intrusted  in  this  office 
gave  of  another  sort,  which  was  of  somewhat  less  reputation. 
Which  practice  the  doctor  within  a  while  coming  to  know,  was 
extremely  troubled  at  it,  and  complained  of  that  unseasonable 
kindness  unto  him,  which  disregarded  the  pressing  interests  and 
wants  of  another  person,  and  thereby  gave  him  a  disquiet  parallel 
to  that  which  a  fit  of  the  gout  would  have  done. 

But  besides  this  of  giving,  the  alms  of  lending  had  an  eminent 
place  in  the  practice  as  well  as  judgment  of  the  doctor. — When 
he  saw  a  man  honest  and  industrious,  he  would  trust  him  with  a 
sum,  and  let  him  pay  it  again  at  such  times  and  in  such  propor- 
tions as  he  found  himself  able  :  withal  when  he  did  so,  he  would 
add  his  counsel  too,  examine  the  person's  condition,  and  contrive 
with  him  how  the  present  sum  might  be  most  advantageously  dis- 
posed ;  still  closing  the  discourse  with  prayer  for  God's  blessing, 
and  after  that  dismissing  him  with  infinite  affability  and  kindness. 
In  which  performance  as  he  was  exuberant  to  all,  so  most  espe- 
cially to  such  as  were  of  an  inferior  degree  ;  giving  this  for  a  rule 
to  those  of  his  friends  that  were  of  estate  and  quality,  to  "  treat 
their  poor  neighbours  with  such  a  cheerfulness,  that  they  may  be 
glad  to  have  met  with  them."  And  as  upon  the  grounds  of  his 
most  genteel  and  obliging  humanity  he  never  suffered  any  body  to 
wait  that  came  to  speak  with  him,  though  upon  a  mere  visit,  but 
broke  off  his  beloved  studies,  upon  which  his  intention  was  so 
great,  that  he  extremely  grudged  to  be  interrupted  by  any  bodily 
concernment  of  his  own,  and  so  would  often  intermit  his  pre- 
scribed walks  and  suppers  in  pursuance  of  it :  so  with  a  more 


382  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

exceeding  alacrity  he  came  down  when  it  was  told  him  that  a 
poor  body  would  speak  with  him.  Such  of  all  others  he  loved 
not  to  delay  ;  and  so  much  he  desired  that  others  should  do  the 
same,  that  when  a  lady  of  the  house,  diverted  either  by  the 
attractives  of  his  discourse,  or  some  other  occasion,  delayed  the 
clients  of  her  charity  in  alms,  or  that  other  most  commendable 
one  in  surgery,  he  in  his  friendly  way  would  chide  her  out  of  the 
room. 

As  poverty  thus  recommended  to  the  doctor's  care  and  kind- 
ness, in  an  especial  manner  it  did  so  when  piety  was  added  to  it : 
upon  which  score  a  mean  person  in  the  neighbourhood,  one 
Houseman,  a  weaver  by  trade,  but  by  weakness  disabled  much  to 
follow  that  or  any  other  employment,  was  extremely  his  favourite. 
Him  he  used  with  a  most  affectionate  freedom,  gave  him  several 
of  his  books,  and  examined  his  progress  in  them ;  invited  him, 
nay  importuned  him,  still  to  come  to  him  for  whatever  he  needed, 
and  at  his  death  left  him  ten  pounds  as  a  legacy.  A  little  before 
which  fatal  time,  he  and  the  lady  P.6  being  walking,  Houseman 
happened  to  come  by,  to  whom  after  the  doctor  had  talked  a 
while  in  his  usual  friendly  manner,  he  let  him  pass  ;  yet  soon  after 
called  him  with  these  words,  "  Houseman,  if  it  should  please 
God  that  I  should  be  taken  from  this  place,  let  me  make  a  bar- 
gain between  my  lady  and  you,  that  you  be  sure  to  come  to  her 
with  the  same  freedom  you  would  to  me  for  any  thing  you  want :" 
and  so  with  a  most  tender  kindness  gave  his  benediction.  Then 
turning  to  the  lady,  he  said,  "  Will  you  not  think  it  strange  I 
should  be  more  affected  for  parting  from  Houseman  than  from 
you  ? "  His  treating  the  poor  man  when  he  came  to  visit  him  in 
his  sickness  was  parallel  hereto  in  all  respects. 

Such  another  acquaintance  he  had  at  Penshurst,  one  Sexton, 
whom  he  likewise  remembered  in  his  will,  and  to  whom  he  was 
used  to  send  his  more  practical  books,  and  to  write  extreme  kind 
letters,  particularly  enquiring  of  the  condition  of  himself  and 
children ;  and  when  he  heard  he  had  a  boy  fit  to  put  out  to 
school,  allowed  him  a  pension  to  that  purpose :  and  also  with 


6  The  Lady  P.]  Dorothy,  fifth  and  youngest  daughter  of  Thomas,  first 
lord  Coventry,  lord  keeper  of  the  great  seal,  wife  of  sir  John  Pakington,  bart., 
of  \Vestwood  (see  p.  403)  to  whom  lord  Coventry  had  been  guardian.  This 
excellent  lady  is  believed  by  many  writers  to  have  been  the  author  of  The 
Whole  Duty  of  Man.  She  died  on  the  13th  May,  1679. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  383 

great  contentment  received  from  him  his  hearty,  though  scarce 
legible,  returns. 

Nor  will  this  treatment  from  the  doctor  seem  any  thing  strange 
to  them  that  shall  consider  how  low  a  rate  he  put  upon  those 
usual  distinctives,  birth  or  riches ;  and  withal  how  high  a  value 
on  the  souls  of  men  :  for  them  he  had  so  unmanageable  a  passion, 
that  it  often  broke  out  into  words  of  this  effect,  which  had  with 
them  still  in  the  delivery  an  extraordinary  vehemence,  "  O  what 
a  glorious  thing,  how  rich  a  prize  for  the  expense  of  a  man^s 
whole  life  were  it  to  be  the  instrument  of  rescuing  any  one  soul ! " 
Accordingly  in  the  pursuit  of  this  design  he  not  only  wasted 
himself  in  perpetual  toil  of  study,  but  most  diligently  attended 
the  offices  of  his  calling,  reading  daily  the  prayers  of  the  church, 
preaching  constantly  every  Sunday,  and  that  many  times  when  he 
was  in  so  ill  a  condition  of  health,  that  all  besides  himself  thought 
it  impossible,  at  least  very  unfit,  for  him  to  do  it.  His  subjects 
were  such  as  had  greatest  influence  on  practice,  which  he  pressed 
with  most  affectionate  tenderness,  making  tears  part  of  his  ora- 
tory. And  if  he  observed  his  documents  to  have  failed  of  the 
desired  effect,  it  was  matter  of  great  sadness  to  him :  where 
instead  of  accusing  the  parties  concerned,  he  charged  himself 
that  his  performances  were  incompetent  to  the  designed  end,  and 
would  solicitously  enquire  what  he  might  do  to  speak  more  plainly 
or  more  movingly ;  whether  his  extemporary  wording  might  not 
be  a  defect,  and  the  like  ?  Besides  this,  he  liberally  dispensed  all 
other  spiritual  aids. 

From  the  time  that  the  children  of  the  family  became  capable 
of  it  till  his  death,  he  made  it  a  part  of  his  daily  business  to 
instruct  them,  allotting  the  interval  betwixt  prayers  and  dinner 
to  that  work,  observing  diligently  the  little  deviations  of  their 
manners,  and  applying  remedies  unto  them.  In  like  sort,  that  he 
might  ensnare  the  servants  also  to  their  benefit,  on  Sundays  in 
the  afternoon  he  catechised  the  children  in  his  chamber,  giving 
liberty  nay  invitation,  to  as  many  as  would  to  come  and  hear, 
hoping  they  happily  might  admit  the  truths  obliquely  levelled, 
which  bashfulness  persuaded  not  to  enquire  for,  lest  they  thereby 
should  own  the  fault  of  former  inadvertence.  Besides  he  publicly 
declared  himself  ready  and  desirous  to  assist  any  person  single ; 
and  to  that  purpose  having  particularly  invited  such  to  come  at 
their  leisurable  hours,  when  any  did  so,  he  used  all  arts  of  en- 
couragement and  obliging  condescension ;  insomuch  that  having 


384  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

once  got  the  scullion  in  his  chamber  upon  that  errand,  he  would 
not  give  him  the  uneasiness  of  standing,  but  made  him  sit  down 
by  his  side :  though  in  other  cases,  amidst  his  infinite  humility, 
he  knew  well  how  to  assert  the  dignity  of  his  place  and  function 
from  the  approaches  of  contempt.  Upon  this  ground  of  ardent 
love  to  souls,  a  very  disconsolate  and  almost  desponding  person 
happening  some  years  since  to  come  to  him,  there  to  unload  the 
burthen  of  his  mind,  he  kept  him  privately  in  his  chamber  for 
several  days  with  a  paternal  kindness,  answering  every  scruple 
which  that  unhappy  temper  of  mind  too  readily  suggested,  and 
with  unwearied  patience  attending  for  those  little  arguments 
which  in  him  were  much  more  easily  silenced  than  satisfied.  This 
practice  continued,  till  he  at  last  discovered  his  impressions  had 
in  good  proportion  advanced  to  the  desired  effect,  which  pro- 
ceeded carefully  in  this  method,  that  duty  still  preceded  promise, 
and  strict  endeavour  only  founded  comfort. 

On  the  same  motive  of  this  highest  charity,  when  some  years 
since  a  young  man,  (who  by  the  encouragement  of  an  uncle,  for- 
merly the  head  of  an  house  in  Oxford,  had  been  bred  up  to 
learning,  but  by  his  ejectment  at  the  visitation  was  diverted  from 
that  course  to  a  country-life,  and  being  so,  to  engage  him  therein 
was  also  married  and  had  children ;)  amidst  his  toilsome  avoca- 
tions continued  to  employ  his  vacant  hours  in  study,  and  happen- 
ing on  some  of  the  doctor's  writings,  was  so  affected  with  them, 
as  to  leave  his  wife  and  family  and  employment,  to  seek  out  the 
doctor  himself,  whom  being  accordingly  addressed  unto,  the  ex- 
cellent doctor  met  this  unknown  romantic  undertaker  with  his 
accustomed  kindness,  and  most  readily  received  this  votary  and 
proselyte  to  learning  into  his  care  and  pupilage  for  several  years, 
affording  him  all  kind  of  assistance  both  in  studies  and  temporal 
support,  till  he  at  last  arrived  at  good  proficiency  in  knowledge, 
and  is  at  present  a  very  useful  person  in  the  church. 

Nor  could  this  zeal  to  the  eternal  interest  of  souls  be  super- 
seded by  any  sight  of  danger  however  imminent.  The  last  y»-ar. 
one  in  the  neighbourhood  mortally  sick  of  the  small-pox  desiring 
the  doctor  to  come  to  him,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  it,  though  the 
disease  did  then  prove  more  than  usually  fatal,  and  the  doctors 
age  and  complexion  threatened  it  particularly  so  to  him ;  and 
though  one  might  discern  in  his  countenance  vigorous  apprehen- 
sions of  the  danger,  he  presently  suppressed  his  fears,  staying 
only  so  long  as  to  be  satisfied  whether  the  party  was  so  sensible 


DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND.  385 

that  a  visit  might  possibly  be  of  use,  and  being  informed  thereof, 
cheerfully  went ;  telling  the  person  that  happened  to  be  present, 
whose  dreads  in  his  behalf  were  not  so  easily  deposited,  that  "  he 
should  be  as  much  in  God's  hands  in  the  sick  man's  chamber  as 
in  his  own :"  and  not  contented  with  going  once,  appointed  the 
next  day  to  have  returned  again ;  which  he  had  done,  had  not 
the  patient's  death  absolved  him  of  his  promise. 

So  likewise  when  at  another  time  a  gentleman  of  no  very  laud- 
able life  had  in  his  sickness  desired  to  speak  with  the  doctor, 
which  message  through  the  negligence  of  the  person  employed 
was  not  delivered  till  he  that  sent  it  was  in  the  last  agonies  of 
death  ;  the  doctor  was  very  much  affected  at  it,  passionately  com- 
plaining of  "the  brutishness  of  those  that  had  so  little  sense  of  a 
soul  in  that  sad  state  :"  and  pouring  out  his  most  fervent  prayers 
in  his  behalf,  requested  farther  "that  by  this  example  others, 
and  in  particular  the  companions  of  that  unhappy  person's  vice, 
might  learn  how  improper  a  season  the  time  of  sickness,  and  how 
unfit  a  place  the  death-bed  is  for  that  one  great  important  work 
of  penitence,  which  was  intended  by  Almighty  God  the  one  com- 
mensurate work  of  the  whole  life." 

But  though  to  advance  the  spiritual  concerns  of  all  that  could 
in  any  kind  become  receptive  of  the  good  he  meant  them  was  his 
unlimited  designment  and  endeavour,  yet  to  nourish  and  advance 
the  early  virtue  of  young  persons  was  his  more  chosen  study. 
When  he  saw  such  a  one,  he  would  contrive  and  seek  out  ways 
to  insinuate  and  endear  himself,  lay  hold  of  every  opportunity  to 
represent  the  beauty,  pleasure  and  advantage  of  a  pious  life ;  and 
on  the  other  side  to  express  the  toil,  the  danger  and  the  mischief 
of  brutal  sensuality.  Withal  he  would  be  still  performing  cour- 
tesies, thereby  to  oblige  of  very  gratitude  to  him,  obedience  and 
duty  unto  God. 

Where  to  pass  by  the  many  instances  that  he  gave  of  this  his 
charity,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  insist  on  one  as  a  specimen  of  the 
rest,  which  was  thus. — It  happened  during  the  doctor's  abode  in 
Oxford  in  the  war,  that  a  young  man  of  excellent  faculties  and  very 
promising  hopes  in  that  place,  by  his  love  to  music  was  engaged 
in  the  company  of  such  who  had  that  one  good  quality  alone  to 
recommend  their  other  ill  ones.  The  doctor  finding  this,  though 
otherwise  a  stranger  to  the  person,  gave  him  in  exchange  his 
own ;  and  taking  him  as  it  were  into  his  own  bosom,  directed 
him  to  books,  and  read  them  with  him,  particularly  a  great  part 

VOL.  iv.  c  c 


386  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

of  Homer,  at  a  night  dispatching  usually  a  book,  and  if  it  proved 
holiday,  then  two ;  where  his  comical  expression  was,  when  one 
Iliad  was  done,  to  say,  "  Come,  because  it  is  holiday,  let  us  be 
jovial  and  take  the  other  Iliad,"  reflecting  on  the  mode  of  the 
former  debauches,  whose  word  it  was,  "  It  is  holiday,  let  us  take 
the  other  pint." 

And  as  the  doctor  laboured  in  the  rescue  of  single  persons,  he 
had  an  eye  therein  to  multitudes ;  for  wherever  he  had  planted 
the  seeds  of  piety,  he  presently  cast  about  to  extend  and  pro- 
pagate them  thereby  to  others :  engaging  all  his  converts  not  to 
be  ashamed  of  being  reputed  innocent,  or  to  be  thought  to  have 
a  kindness  for  religion ;  but  to  own  the  seducing  men  to  God 
with  as  much  confidence  at  least  as  others  use  when  they  are 
factors  for  the  devil :  and  instead  of  lying  on  the  guard  and  the 
defensive  part,  he  gave  in  charge  to  chuse  the  other  of  the 
assailant.  And  this  method  he  commended  not  only  as  the 
greatest  service  unto  God  and  to  our  neighbour,  but  as  the 
greatest  security  to  ourselves ;  it  being  like  the  not  expecting  of 
a  threatened  war  at  home,  but  carrying  it  abroad  into  the  enei 
country.  And  nothing  in  the  Christian's  warfare  he  judged  so 
dangerous  as  a  truce,  and  the  cessation  of  hostility.  Withal, 
parly  and  holding  intelligence  with  guilt  in  the  most  trivial 
things,  he  pronounced  as  treason  to  ourselves,  as  well  as  unto 
God :  "for  while,"  saith  he,  " we  fight  with  sin,  in  the  fiercest 
shock  of  opposition  we  shall  be  safe ;  for  no  attempts  can  hurt 
us  till  we  treat  with  the  assailants :  temptations  of  all  sorts 
having  that  good  quality  of  the  devil  in  them,  to  fly  when  they 
are  resisted."  Besides,  whereas  young  people  are  used  to  varnish 
over  their  non-performance  and  forbearance  of  good  actions  by  a 
pretence  unto  humility  and  bashful  modesty,  saying,  they  are 
ashamed  to  do  this  or  that,  as  being  not  able  to  do  it  well,  he 
assured  them,  "  This  was  arrant  pride  and  nothing  else." 

Upon  these  grounds  his  motto  of  instruction  to  young  persons 
was,  Principiis  obsta,  and  Hoc  age  to  withstand  the  overtures 
of  ill,  and  be  intent  and  serious  in  good ;  to  which  he  joined  a 
third  advice,  "  To  be  furnished  with  a  friend."  Accordingly  at 
a  solemn  leave-taking  of  one  of  his  disciples,  he  thus  discour 
"  I  have  heard  say  of  a  man  who  upon  his  death-bed  being  to 
take  his  farewell  of  his  son,  and  considering  what  course  of  life 
to  recommend  that  might  secure  his  innocence,  at  last  enjoined 
him  to  spend  his  time  in  making  of  VITSOS,  and  in  dressing  a 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  387 

garden ;  the  old  man  thinking  no  temptation  could  creep  into 
either  of  these  employments.  But  I  instead  of  these  expedients 
will  recommend  these  other,  the  doing  all  the  good  you  can  to 
every  person,  and  the  having  of  a  friend ;  whereby  your  life  shall 
not  only  be  rendered  innocent,  but  withal  extremely  happy." 

Now  after  all  these  excellencies,  it  would  be  reason  to  expect 
that  the  doctor,  conscious  of  his  merit,  should  have  looked, 
if  not  on  others  with  contempt,  yet  on  himself  with  some  com- 
placency and  fair  regard ;  but  it  was  far  otherwise.  There  was 
no  enemy  of  his,  however  drunk  with  passion,  that  had  so  mean 
an  esteem  either  of  him  or  of  his  parts  as  he  had  both  of  the 
one  and  other.  As  at  his  first  appearing  in  public  he  was  clearly 
overreached  and  cheated  in  the  owning  of  his  books ;  so  when 
he  found  it  duty  to  go  on  in  that  his  toilsome  trade  of  writing, 
he  was  wont  seriously  to  profess  himself  astonished  at  their 
reception  into  the  world,  especially,  as  he  withal  was  pleased  to 
add,  since  others  failed  herein,  whose  performances  were  infinitely 
beyond  any  thing  which  he  was  able  to  do. 

From  this  opinion  of  his  mediocrity  at  best,  and  the  resolution 
of  not  making  any  thing  in  religion  public  before  it  had  under- 
gone all  tests,  in  point  not  only  of  truth  but  prudence,  proceeded 
his  constant  practice  of  subjecting  all  his  writings  to  the  censure 
and  correction  of  his  friends,  engaging  them  at  that  time  to  lay 
aside  all  their  kindness,  or  rather  to  evidence  their  love  by  being 
rigidly  censorious.  There  is  scarce  any  book  he  wrote  that  had 
not  first  travelled  on  this  errand  of  being  severely  dealt  with,  to 
several  parts  of  the  nation  before  it  saw  the  light;  nay  so 
scrupulous  was  the  doctor  herein,  that  he  has  frequently,  upon 
suggestion  of  something  to  be  changed,  returned  his  papers  the 
second  time  unto  his  censor,  to  see  if  the  alteration  was  exactly 
to  his  mind,  and  generally  was  never  so  well  pleased  as  when  his 
packets  returned  with  large  accessions  of  objections  and  adver- 
tisements. And  in  this  point  he  was  so  strangely  adviseable,  that 
he  would  advert  unto  the  judgement  of  the  meanest  person,  usually 
saying,  that  there  was  no  one  that  was  honest  to  him  by  whom  he 
could  not  profit ;  withal,  that  he  was  to  expect  readers  of  several 
sorts,  and  if  one  illiterate  man  was  stumbled,  it  was  likely  others 
of  his  form  would  be  so  too,  whose  interest,  when  he  writ  to  all, 
was  not  to  be  passed  over.  Besides,  those  less-discerning  obser- 
vators,  if  they  should  do  nothing  else,  he  said  could  serve  to 
draw  teeth ;  that  is,  admonish  if  ought  were  said  with  passion 

cc  2 


388  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

or  sharpness,  a  thing  the  doctor  was  infinitely  jealous  of  in  his 
writings.  Many  years  since  he  having  sent  one  of  his  tracts 
unto  an  eminent  person  in  this  church,  to  whom  he  bore  a  very 
high  and  merited  regard,  to  be  looked  over  by  him,  he  sending  it 
back  without  any  amendment,  but  with  a  profuse  compliment  of 
liking  every  thing;  the  good  doctor  was  much  affected  with  the 
disappointment,  only  comforted  himself  herein,  that  he  had  reaped 
this  benefit,  to  have  learned  never  to  send  his  papers  to  that 
hand  again ;  which  resolution  to  his  dying  day  he  kept. 

Nor  was  this  caution  before  the  publishing  of  his  books  suffi- 
cient, but  was  continued  after  it,  the  doctor  importuning  still  his 
friends  to  send  him  their  objections,  if  in  any  point  they  were  not 
satisfied;  which  he  with  great  indifference  considered  in  his 
reviews  and  subsequent  editions ;  however  took  more  kindly  the 
most  impertinent  exception,  than  those  advertisements  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind  which  brought  encomiums  and  lavish  praises,  which 
he  heard  with  as  great  distaste  as  others  do  the  most  viruleht 
reproaches. 

A  farther  proof  of  this  low  esteem  the  doctor  had  of  himself 
(if  such  were  possible)  would  be  meekness  to  those  that  slighted 
him  and  disparaged  his  abilities  ;  this  being  the  surest  indication 
that  our  humility  is  in  earnest,  when  we  are  content  to  hear  ill 
language  not  only  from  ourselves  but  from  our  enemies :  which 
with  how  much  indifference  this  inimitable  person  did,  it  is 
neither  easy  fully  to  describe,  nor  to  persuade  to  just  belief. 
The  short  is,  as  he  was  never  angry  with  his  pertinacious  dis- 
senters for  not  being  of  his  mind  in  points  of  speculation ;  no 
more  was  he  in  the  least  with  his  scornful  opposites  for  thc-ir 
being  of  it  in  their  little  value  of  his  person.  And  though  lie 
had  as  well  as  other  men,  seeds  of  incitation  in  his  natural  temper, 
and  more  than  others  temptation  to  it  in  his  daily  and  almost 
intolerable  injuries ;  yet  such  was  the  habitual  mastery  he  had 
gained  over  himself,  that  the  strictest  considerers  of  his  actions, 
have  not  in  ten  years'  perpetual  conversation,  seen  his  passion 
betray  him  to  an  indecent  speech. 

Nor  was  his  sufferance  of  other  kinds  less  exemplary  than  tlmt 
he  evidenced  in  the  reception  of  calumny  and  foul  reproach  : 
for  though  "  pain  were  that  to  which  "  he  was  used  to  say,  "  he 
was  of  all  things  most  a  coward,"  yet  being  under  it  he  shewed 
an  eminent  constancy  and  perfect  resignation. 

At  the  approach  of  sickness  his  first  consideration  was,  what 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  389 

failing  had  provoked  the  present  chastisement,  and  to  that  pur- 
pose he  made  his  earnest  prayer  to  God  (and  enjoined  his  friends 
to  do  the  like)  to  convince  him  of  it ;  nor  only  so,  but  tear  and 
rend  away,  though  by  the  greatest  violence  and  sharpest  dis- 
cipline, whatever  was  displeasing  in  his  eyes,  and  grant  not  only 
patience,  but  fruitfulness  under  the  rod.  Then  by  repeated  acts 
of  submission  would  he  deliver  himself  up  into  God's  hands  to  do 
with  him  as  seemed  him  good ;  amidst  the  sharpest  pains  meekly 
invoking  him,  and  saying,  "  God's  holy  will  be  done."  And 
even  then  when  on  the  wrack  of  torture,  would  he  be  observing 
every  circumstance  of  allay  :  when  it  was  the  gout  he  would  give 
thanks  it  was  not  the  stone  or  cramp ;  when  it  was  the  stone,  he 
then  would  say  it  was  not  so  sharp  as  others  felt,  accusing  his 
impatience  that  it  appeared  so  bad  to  him  as  it  did.  And  then 
when  some  degree  of  health  was  given,  he  exerted  all  his  strength 
in  a  return  of  grateful  recognition  to  the  Author  of  it,  which  he 
performed  with  a  vivacious  sense  and  chearful  piety,  frequently 
reflecting  on  the  psalmist's  phrase,  that  it  was  a  joyful  thing  to 
be  thankful.  Which  his  transport  whoever  should  attentively  ob- 
serve, would  easily  apprehend  how  possible  it  was  for  the  infinite 
fruitions  of  another  world  to  be  made  up  by  the  perpetual  act  of 
grateful  recognition,  in  giving  lauds  and  singing  praises  unto  God. 

Upon  this  score  he  was  a  most  diligent  observer  of  every 
blessing  he  received,  and  had  them  still  in  readiness  to  confront 
unto  those  pressures  he  at  any  time  lay  under.  In  the  inter- 
missions of  his  importunate  maladies  he  would  with  full  acknow- 
ledgement mention  the  great  indulgence,  that  he  who  had  in  his 
constitution  the  cause  of  so  much  pain  still  dwelling  with  him, 
should  yet  by  God's  immediate  interposing  be  rescued  from  the 
effect. 

To  facilitate  yet  more  this  his  serenity  and  calm  of  mind,  he 
laid  this  rule  before  him,  which  proved  of  great  use,  "  Never  to 
trouble  himself  with  the  foresight  of  future  events,"  being  resolved 
of  our  Saviour's  maxim,  that  sufficient  to  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof:  and  that  it  were  the  greatest  folly  in  the  world  to  per- 
plex one's  self7  with  that  which  perchance  will  never  come  to 
pass ;  but  if  it  should,  then  God  who  sent  it  will  dispose  it  to 
the  best ;  most  certainly  to  his  glory,  which  should  satisfy  us  in 

7  To  perplex  one's  self.']  See  bishop  Butler's  Sermon  xiv.  On  the  Love  of 
God ;  or  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  i.  p.  633,  4. 


390  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

our  respects  to  him ;  and,  unless  it  be  our  fault,  as  certainly  to 
our  good,  which,  if  we  be  not  strangely  unreasonable,  must 
satisfy  in  reverence  unto  ourselves  and  private  interests.  Besides 
all  this,  in  the  very  dispensation,  God  will  not  fail  to  give  such 
allays  which  (like  the  cool  gales  under  the  line)  will  make  the 
greatest  heats  of  sufferance  very  supportable.  In  such  occasions 
he  usually  subjoined  Epictetus's  dilemma,  "Either  the  thing 
before  us  is  in  our  power,  or  it  is  not :  if  it  be,  let  us  apply  the 
remedy,  and  there  will  be  no  motive  for  complaint ;  if  it  be  not, 
the  grief  is  utterly  impertinent,  since  it  can  do  no  good."  As 
also  from  the  same  author  he  annexed  this  consideration,  "  That 
every  thing  has  two  handles ;  if  the  one  prove  hot,  and  not  to 
be  touched,  we  may  take  the  other  that  is  more  temperate :"  and 
in  every  occurrent  he  would  be  sure  to  find  some  cool  handle  that 
he  might  lay  hold  of. 

And  to  enforce  all  this,  he  made  a  constant  recourse  to  the 
experience  of  God^s  dealing  with  him  in  preceding  accidents,  which 
however  dreadful  at  a  distance,  at  a  nearer  view  lost  much  of 
their  terror.  And  for  others  that  he  saw  perplexed  about  the 
manage  of  their  difficult  affairs,  he  was  wont  to  ask  them,  "  When 
they  would  begin  to  trust  God,  or  permit  him  to  govern  the 
world  T1  Besides,  unto  himself  and  friends  he  was  wont  solemnly 
to  give  this  mandate,  Quod  sis  esse  velis,  nihilque  malis,  in  his 
English,  to  rather  nothing ;  not  only  to  be  content  or  acquiesce, 
but  be  resolved  the  present  state  to  be  the  very  best  that  could 
be  wished  or  fancied. 

And  thus  all  private  concernments  he  passed  over  with  a  per- 
fect indifference  ;  the  world  and  its  appendages  hanging  so  loose 
about  him  that  he  never  took  notice  when  any  part  dropt  off,  or 
sate  uneasily.  Herein  indeed  he  was  concerned  and  rendered 
thoughtful,  if  somewhat  intervened  that  had  a  possibility  of  duty 
appendent  to  it ;  in  which  case  he  would  be  solicitous  to  discern 
where  the  obligation  lay  :  but  presently  rescued  himself  from  that 
disquiet  by  his  addresses  unto  God  in  prayer  and  fasting,  which 
his  certain  refuge  in  this  as  well  as  other  exigents ;  and  if 
the  thing  in  question  were  of  moment,  he  called  in  the  devotions 
of  his  friends.  Besides  this  case,  he  owned  to  have  some  kind  of 
little  discomposure  in  the  choice  of  things  perfectly  indifferent; 
for  whi-re  there  was  nothing  to  determine  him,  the  balance  by 
lumping  even  became  tremulous,  and  by  a  propensity  t<>  cither 
side  inclined  to  neither,  making  useless  offers,  but  promoving 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  391 

nothing :   which  condition  of  mind  he  was  wont  to  call  the  delibe- 
ration of  Buridan's  ass1. 

Upon  which  grounds,  of  all  other  things,  he  most  disliked  the 
being  left  to  make  a  choice  ;  and  hugely  applauded  the  state  of 
subjection  to  a  superior,  where  an  obsequious  diligence  was  the 
main  ingredient  of  duty  :  as  also  he  did  the  state  of  subjection 
unto  pressure,  as  a  privilege  and  blessing.  And  though  he  prayed 
as  much  and  withal  as  heartily  as  any  person  for  the  return  of 
the  nation  from  captivity,  he  always  first  premised  the  being- 
made  receptive  of  such  mercy  by  the  intervention  of  repentance. 
He  would  often  both  publicly  and  privately  assert  solemnly, 
"  That  prosperous  iniquity  would  not  be  deliverance,  but  the  most 
formidable  judgment ;  that  the  nation  during  its  pressures  was 
under  the  discipline  of  God,  given  up  to  Satan  by  a  kind  of  eccle- 
siastic censure ;  and  should  the  Almighty  dismiss  us  from  his 
hands,  and  put  us  into  our  own,  give  us  up  to  ourselves,  with  a 
why  should  you  be  smitten  any  more  ?  this  were  of  all  inflictions 
the  most  dreadful.11  Though  with  admirable  equanimity  he  could 
run  over  the  black  annals  of  this  unhappy  nation  while  its  calami- 
ties were  reckoned  up,  he  could  scarce  hear  the  slightest  mention 
of  its  incorrigible  guilt  without  dissolving  into  tears ;  especially 
when  he  happened  to  advert  unto  the  impudence  of  that  hypo- 
crisy which  reconciled  godliness  and  villany,  and  made  it  possible 
for  men  to  be  saints  and  devils  both  together :  whereby  religion 
grew  ruinous  to  itself,  and  besides  the  scandal  of  such  enormities 
committed  in  the  face  of  the  sun,  with  such  pretence  to  zeal  and 
holiness,  our  faith  became  instructed  to  confute  and  baffle  duty, 
the  creed  and  the  commandments,  belief  and  practice  being 
brought  into  the  lists,  and  represented  as  incompatible ;  while 

8  Buridan's  ass.~\  Buridan  was  a  Frenchman,  an  eminent  metaphysician, 
logician,  and  commentator  on  Aristotle,  who  lived  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
His  celebrated  sophism  has  become  almost  proverbial.  He  supposed  an  ass, 
alike  hungry  and  thirsty,  situated  between  a  bundle  of  hay  on  one  side,  and 
a  bucket  of  water  on  the  other,  and  equally  tempted  by  both.  "  Now,  what 
will  the  ass  do  ?"  asked  Buridan  :  if  answered,  "  He  will  remain  motionless," 
he  concluded,  "  then  he  will  die  of  hunger  and  thirst."  If  any  opponent 
replied,  "  An  ass,  though  stupid,  will  not  be  stupid  enough  to  die  so:" — 
"  then,"  concluded  Buridan,  "  he  will  turn  to  one  side  rather  than  the  other, 
and  therefore  he  exercises  free  will."  This  sophism  puzzled  all  the  logicians 
of  his  time,  and  became  famous  in  the  schools.  Some  of  the  early  pro- 
testants  wrongly  imagined,  from  Buridan's  argument,  that  he  was  a  fore- 
runner of  the  reformed  church.  The  point  is  much  older  than  Buridan. 


392  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

the  flames  intended  for  the  sacred  lamps,  the  establishment  of 
doctrinals  and  speculative  divinity,  burnt  up  the  altar  and  the 
temple,  consumed  not  only  charity,  but  good  nature  too,  and  un- 
taught the  common  documents  of  honest  heathenism. 

And  while  this  public  soul  in  the  contemplation  of  the  mis- 
chief which  our  sins  both  were  themselves  and  in  their  issues, 
great  in  their  provocation  and  fatal  in  their  plagues,  indulged  unto 
his  pious  and  generous  griefs,  yet  even  then  considering  judg- 
ment not  to  be  more  just  than  useful  to  the  sufferers,  he  found 
out  means  from  that  unlikely  topic  to  speak  comforts  to  himself 
and  others. 

In  that  last  crisis  of  our  gasping  hopes,  the  defeat  of  the 
Cheshire  forces 9,  which  promised  all  the  misery  consequent  to 
the  sway  of  a  senate  gorged  in  blood,  and  yet  still  thirsting  for 
more,  and  of  a  veteran  army  composed  of  desperate  fanatics,  en- 
gaged in  equal  guilts  among  themselves,  and  equal  hate  against 
the  other,  and  therewithal  against  the  religion  liberty  and  being 
of  the  nation  ;  he  thus  addresses  himself  to  the  desponding  sor- 
rows of  a  friend. 

"  Sir,  Sept.  2. 

"  I  have  received  your  last,  and  acknowledge  the  great  fitness 
of  it  to  the  present  opportunities  under  which  God  hath  pleased 
to  place  us.  If  we  look  about  us,  there  was  never  any  louder 
call  to  lamentation  and  bitter  mourning ;  and  the  sharpest  accents 
of  these  are  visibly  due  to  those  continued  provocations  which 
appear  to  have  wrought  all  our  woe :  yet  is  there  not  wanting 
some  gleam  of  light,  if  we  shall  yet  by  God's  grace  be  qualified 
to  make  use  of  it.  It  is  the  supreme  privilege  of  Christianity  to 
convert  the  saddest  evils  into  the  most  medicinal  advantages,  the 
valley  of  Achor  into  the  door  of  hope,  the  blackest  tempest  into 
the  most  perfect  tu&'a :  and  it  is  certain  you  have  an  excellent 
opportunity  now  before  you  to  improve  and  receive  benefit  by ; 
and  you  will  not  despise  that  affection  which  attempts  to  tell  you 
somewhat  of  it.  It  is  plainly  this ;  that  all  kind  of  prosperity 
(even  that  which  we  most  think  we  can  justify  the  most  impor- 
tunate pursuance  of,  the  flourishing  of  a  church  and  monarchy) 
is  treacherous  and  dangerous,  and  might  very  probably  tend  to 

*  Defeat  of  the  Cheshire  forces.']  Under  sir  George  Booth,  by  the  parlia- 
ment army  under  the  command  of  general  Lambert.  Clarendon's  Hist,  of 
the  Rebellion,  book  xvi.  vol.  iii.  p.  527.  edit.  1704. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  393 

our  great  ills  ;  and  nothing  is  so  entirely  safe  and  wholesome  as 
to  be  continued  under  God's  disciplines.  Those  that  are  not  bet- 
tered by  such  methods,  would  certainly  be  intoxicated  and  de- 
stroyed by  the  pleasant er  draughts  ;  and  those  that  would  ever 
serve  God  sincerely  in  affluence,  have  infinitely  greater  advan- 
tages and  opportunities  for  it  in  the  adverse  fortune.  Therefore 
let  us  now  all  adore  and  bless  God's  wisest  choices,  and  set  vigo- 
rously to  the  task  that  lies  before  us,  improving  the  present  ad- 
vantages, and  supplying  in  the  abundance  of  the  inward  beauty 
what  is  wanting  to  the  outward  lustre  of  a  church  ;  and  we  shall 
not  fail  to  find  that  the  grots  and  caves  lie  as  open  to  the  celestial 
influences  as  the  fairest  and  most  beautified  temples.  We  are 
ordinarily  very  willing  to  be  rich,  and  flatter  ourselves  that  our 
aims  are  no  other  than  to  be  enabled  by  much  wealth  to  do  much 
good  ;  and  some  live  to  see  themselves  confuted,  want  hearts 
when  wealth  comes  in  greatest  abundance :  so  those  that  never 
come  to  make  the  experiment,  have  yet  reason  to  judge  that  God 
saw  it  fit  not  to  lead  them  into  temptation,  lest  if  they  had  been 
proved  they  should  have  been  found  faithless.  And  the  same 
judgment  are  we  now  obliged  to  pass  for  ourselves,  and  by  what 
God  appears  to  have  chosen  for  us,  to  resolve  what  he  sees  to  be 
absolutely  best  for  us ;  and  it  must  be  our  greatest  blame  and 
wretchedness,  if  what  hath  now  befallen  us  be  not  effectually 
better  for  us,  than  whatever  else  even  piety  could  have  suggested 
to  us  to  wish  or  pray  for.  And  then,  I  pray,  judge  candidly 
whether  any  thing  be  in  any  degree  sober  or  tolerable  in  any  of 
us,  beside  the  one  great  necessary  wisdom  as  well  as  duty  of 
resignation,  and  making  God's  choices  ours  also. 

if  I  have  been  these  three  weeks  under  restraint  by  the  gout  and 
other  pains,  and  am  not  yet  on  my  legs,  yet  blessed  be  God  have 
all  causes  of  thanksgiving,  none  of  repining.  And  I  shall  with 
confidence  pray  and  hope  that  the  great  multitudes  of  persons 
and  families  that  are  now  under  far  sharper  exercises,  will  find  as 
much  greater  allays  and  sweetnesses,  and  the  black  cloud  (as  oft 
it  hath  done)  vanish  undiscernably." 

And  when  this  most  unlikely  prophecy  became  fulfilled,  when 
that  black  cloud  he  spoke  of,  contrary  to  all  human  expectation, 
broke  not  in  tempest,  but  the  fairest  sunshine  that  ever  smiled  on 
this  our  land,  when  our  despairs  and  resolute  despondencies  be- 
came unravelled  by  a  miracle  of  mercy,  which  after-ages  will  be 
as  far  from  giving  credit  to  in  its  endearing,  most  improbable 


394  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

circumstances,  as  this  of  ours  (pardon  the  harshness  of  a  true 
comparison)  is  from  esteeming  at  its  merited  rate ;  our  excellent 
patriot,  and  best  of  men,  seeing  the  dawnings  of  this  welcome 
day,  paid  down  at  once  his  greatest  thanks  and  heartiest  depre- 
cations as  a  tribute  to  it,  passionately  fearing,  what  he  had  more 
passionately  wished  for,  suspecting  his  own  hopes,  and  weeping 
over  his  fruitions. 

As  to  his  sacred  majesty,  he  looked  on  his  return  with  pity 
and  compassion,  as  bringing  him  to  that  uneasy,  if  not  insuper- 
able, task  of  ruling  and  reforming  a  licentious  people ;  to  that 
most  irksome  sufferance  of  being  worried  with  the  importunities 
of  covetous  and  ambitious  men,  the  restless  care  of  meeting  the 
designs  of  mutinous  and  discontented  spirits ;  resolving,  his  most 
wished  return  could  only  be  a  blessing  to  his  people,  but  unto  him 
could  not  be  so,  but  only  on  the  score,  by  having  opportunities 
through  glorious  self-denials  to  do  good.  And  for  all  other  per- 
sons, he  said,  "  that  having  seriously  considered  what  sort  of  men 
would  be  better  for  the  change,  he  could  not  think  of  any.  As 
for  the  church  it  was  certain,  persecution  was  generally  the  hap- 
piest means  of  propagating  that ;  she  then  grew  fastest  when 
pruned  most :  then  of  the  best  complexion  and  most  healthy 
when  fainting  through  loss  of  blood.  As  to  the  laity  ^  in  all 
their  several  stations  and  estates,  they  had  so  much  perverted 
the  healthful  dispensations  of  judgment,  that  it  was  most  impro- 
bable they  should  make  any  tolerable  use  of  mercy.  And  lastly, 
in  reference  to  himself,  he  resolved  (though  sure  on  weaker 
grounds)  affliction  most  conducible."  During  the  current  of  that 
tyranny  which  for  so  many  years  we  all  groaned  under,  he  kept  a 
constant  equable  serenity  and  unthoughtfulness  in  outward  acci- 
dents :  but  the  approaching  change  gave  him  somewhat  of  pen- 
sive recollection,  insomuch  that  discoursing  of  occurrents,  he 
broke  forth  into  these  words,  "  I  must  confess  I  never  saw  that 
time  in  all  my  life  wherein  I  could  so  cheerfully  say  my  nunc  di- 
mittis  as  now.  Indeed  I  do  dread  prosperity,  I  do  really  dread  it. 
For  the  little  good  I  am  now  able  to  do,  I  can  do  it  with  delibe- 
ration and  advice  :  but  if  it  please  God  I  should  live  and  be  called 
to  any  higher  office  in  the  church,  I  must  then  do  many  things  in 
a  hurry,  and  shall  have  not  time  to  consult  with  others,  and  I 
sufficiently  apprehend  the  danger  of  relying  on  my  own  judgment/1 
Which  \\nnls  IK-  spake  with  the  greatest  concernment  <»f  cm 
melting  passion  as  is  imaginable.  Accordingly  it  pleased  almighty 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  395 

God  so  to  deal  with  him  ;  and  having  granted  to  his  servant  the 
satisfaction  of  a  full  return  and  gracious  answer  to  his  prayer  in 
the  then  e very-day  expected  reception  of  his  sacred  majesty,  not 
to  deny  his  other  great  request  of  not  sharing  any  temporary 
advantage  from  it :  but  as  his  merits  were  far  beyond  those  tran- 
sitory ensnaring  retributions,  to  remove  him  from  them  to  those 
solid  and  unmixed  rewards,  which  could  be  nothing  else  than 
such,  and  would  be  such  for  ever. 

But  this  sad  part  of  our  relation  requiring  to  itself  a  fresh 
unwearied  sorrow,  and  the  saint-like  manner  of  this  excellent  per- 
son's passage  from  the  world  being  as  exemplary  and  conducing 
to  the  uses  of  survivors  as  the  notice  of  his  life  ;  we  shall  allow 
it  a  distinct  apartment,  and  once  again  break  off  the  thread  of 
our  discourse,  to  resume  it  in  its  proper  unentangled  clue. 


SECTION    THE    THIRD. 

AT  the  opening  of  the  year  1660,  when  every  thing  visibly 
tended  to  the  reduction  of  his  sacred  majesty,  and  all  persons 
in  their  several  stations  began  to  make  way  and  prepare  for  it, 
the  good  doctor  was  by  the  fathers  of  the  church  desired  to 
repair  to  London,  there  to  assist  in  the  great  work  of  the  com- 
posure of  breaches  in  the  church :  which  summons  as  he  resolved 
unfit  either  to  dispute  or  disobey,  so  could  he  not  without  much 
violence  to  his  inclinations  submit  unto.  But  finding  it  his  duty, 
he  diverted  all  the  uneasiness  of  antipathy  and  aversation  into  a 
deliberate  preparation  of  himself  for  this  new  theatre  of  affairs 
on  which  he  was  to  enter.  Where  his  first  care  was  to  fortify 
his  mind  against  the  usual  temptations  of  business,  place,  and 
power.  And  to  this  purpose,  besides  his  earnest  prayers  to  God 
for  his  assistance,  and  disposal  of  him  entirely  to  his  glory,  and 
a  diligent  survey  of  all  his  inclinations,  and  therein  those  which 
were  his  more  open  and  less  defensible  parts,  he  farther  called  in 
and  solemnly  adjured  that  friend  of  his  with  whom  he  had  then 
the  nearest  opportunity  of  commerce,  to  study  and  examine  the 
last  ten  years  of  his  life,  and  with  the  justice  due  to  a  Christian 
friendship  to  observe  the  failances  of  all  kinds,  and  shew  them  to 
him:  which  being  accordingly  attempted,  the  product,  after  a 
diligent  inquest,  only  proving  the  representation  of  such  defects, 
which  might  have  past  for  virtue  in  another  person  ;  his  next 


396  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

prospect  was  abroad,  what  several  ways  he  might  do  good  unto 
the  public :  and  knowing  that  the  diocese  of  Worcester  was  by 
the  favour  of  his  majesty  designed  his  charge,  he  thought  of 
several  opportunities  of  charity  unto  that  place,  and  among  others 
particularly  cast  in  his  mind  for  the  repair  of  the  cathedral 
church,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a  considerable  advance  unto 
that  work.  Which  early  care  is  here  mentioned  as  an  instance 
of  his  inflamed  desire  of  doing  good,  and  singular  zeal  to  the 
house  of  God,  and  the  restoring  of  a  decent  worship  in  a  like 
decent  place :  for  otherwise  it  was  far  from  his  custom  to  look 
forward  into  future  events,  but  still  to  attend  and  follow  after 
Providence,  and  let  every  day  bear  its  own  evil.  And  now,  con- 
sidering that  the  nation  was  under  its  great  crisis  and  most  hope- 
ful method  of  its  cure,  which  yet  if  palliate  and  imperfect,  would 
only  make  way  to  more  fatal  sickness,  he  fell  to  his  devotions  on 
that  behalf,  and  made  those  two  excellent  prayers  *,  which  were 

1  Two  excellent  prayers.']  See  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  727.  The  following  is  sub- 
mitted as  a  specimen,  from  the  former  of  them. 

"  O  blessed  Lord,  who  in  thine  infinite  mercy  didst  vouchsafe  to  plant  a 
glorious  church  among  us,  and  now  in  thy  just  judgment  hast  permitted  our 
sins  and  follies  to  root  it  up,  Be  pleased  at  last  to  resume  thoughts  of  peace 
towards  us,  that  we  may  do  the  like  to  one  another.  Lord,  look  down  from 
heaven,  the  habitation  of  thy  holiness,  and  behold  the  ruins  of  a  desolated 
church,  and  compassionate  to  see  her  in  the  dust.  Behold  her,  O  Lord,  not 
only  broken,  but  crumbled,  divided  into  so  many  sects  and  factions,  that  she 
no  longer  represents  the  Ark  of  the  God  of  Israel,  where  the  covenant  and 
the  manna  were  conserved,  but  the  Ark  of  Noah,  filled  with  all  various  sorts 
of  unclean  beasts  :  and  to  complete  our  misery  and  guilt,  the  spirit  of  divi- 
sion hath  insinuated  itself  as  well  into  our  affections  as  our  judgments  :  that 
badge  of  discipleship  which  thou  recommendedst  to  us  is  cast  off,  and  all 
the  contrary  wrath  and  bitterness,  anger  and  clamour,  called  in  to  maintain 
and  widen  our  breaches.  O  Lord,  how  long  shall  we  thus  violate  and  defame 
that  Gospel  of  peace  that  we  profess  !  How  long  shall  we  thus  madly  defeat 
ourselves,  and  lose  that  Christianity  which  we  pretend  to  strive  for  !  O  thou 
which  makest  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  an  house,  be  pleased  so  to  unite  us, 
that  we  may  be  perfectly  joined  together  in  the  same  mind,  and  in  the  same 
judgment.  And  now  that  in  civil  affairs  there  seems  some  aptness  to  a  com- 
posure, O  let  not  our  spiritual  differences  be  more  unreconcileable.  Lord, 
let  not  the  roughest  winds  blow  out  of  the  sanctuary :  let  not  those  which 
should  be  thy  ambassadors  for  peace  still  sound  a  trumpet  for  war  :  but  do 
thou  reveal  thyself  to  all  our  Elijahs  in  that  still  small  voice  which  may  teach 
them  to  echo  thee  in  the  like  meek  treatings  with  others.  Lord,  let  no  un- 
seasonable stiffness  of  those  that  are  in  the  right,  no  perverse  obstinacy  of 
those  that  are  in  the  wrong,  hinder  the  closing  of  our  wounds ;  but  let  the 
one  instruct  in  meekness,  and  be  thou  pleased  to  give  the  other  repentance 


DOCTOR  HENTRY  HAMMOND.  397 

published  immediately  after  his  death,  as  they  had  been  made 
immediately  before  his  sickness,  and  were  almost  the  very  last 
thing  he  wrote. 

Being  in  this  state  of  mind,  fully  prepared  for  that  new  course 
of  life,  which  had  nothing  to  recommend  it  to  his  taste  but  its 
unpleasantness,  (the  best  allective  unto  him)  he  expected  hourly 
the  peremptory  mandate  which  was  to  call  him  forth  of  his  beloved 
retirements. 

But  in  the  instant  a  more  importunate,  though  infinitely  more 
welcome,  summons  engaged  him  on  his  last  journey  :  for  on  the 
4th  of  April  he  was  seized  with  a  sharp  fit  of  the  stone,  with 
those  symptons  that  are  usual  in  such  cases ;  which  yet  upon 
the  voidance  of  a  stone  ceased  for  that  time.  However  on  the 
8th  of  the  same  month  it  returned  again  with  greater  violence  : 
and  though  after  two  days  the  pain  decreased,  the  suppression  of 
urine  yet  continued,  with  frequent  vomitings,  and  a  distention  of 
the  whole  body,  and  likewise  shortness  of  breath,  upon  any  little 
motion.  When,  as  if  he  had  by  some  instinct  a  certain  know- 
ledge of  the  issue  of  his  sickness,  he  almost  at  its  first  approach 
conceived  himself  in  hazard  :  and  whereas  at  other  times,  when 
he  saw  his  friends  about  him  fearful,  he  was  used  to  reply  cheer- 
fully, "  that  he  was  not  dying  yet ;"  now  in  the  whole  current  of 
his  disease  he  never  said  any  thing  to  avert  suspicion,  but 
addressed  himself  unto  its  cure,  telling  his  friends  with  whom  he 
was,  "  that  he  would  leave  them  in  God's  hands,  who  could  sup- 
ply abundantly  all  the  assistance  they  could  either  expect  or 
desire  from  him,  and  who  would  so  provide,  that  they  should  not 
find  his  removal  any  loss."  And  when  he  observed  one  of  them 
with  some  earnestness  pray  for  his  health  and  continuance,  he 
with  tender  passion  replied,  "  I  observe  your  zeal  spends  itself  all 
in  that  one  petition  for  my  recovery  ;  in  the  interim  you  have  no 
care  of  me  in  my  greatest  interest,  which  is,  that  I  may  be  per- 
fectly fitted  for  my  change  when  God  shall  call  rne  :  I  pray  let 

to  the  acknowledgement  of  the  truth.  To  this  end,  do  thou,  O  Lord,  mollify 
all  exasperated  minds,  take  off  all  animosities  and  prejudices,  contempt  and 
heart  burnings,  and  by  uniting  their  hearts  prepare  for  the  reconciling  their 
opinions.  And  that  nothing  may  intercept  the  clear  sight  of  thy  truth, 
Lord,  let  all  private  and  secular  designs  be  totally  deposited,  that  gain  may 
no  longer  be  the  measure  of  our  godliness,  but  the  one  great  and  common 
concernment  of  truth  and  peace  may  be  unanimously  and  vigorously  pur- 
sued," &c. 


398  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

some  of  your  fervour  be  employed  that  way."  And  being  prest 
to  make  it  his  own  request  to  God  to  be  continued  longer  in  the 
world,  to  the  service  of  the  church,  he  immediately  began  a  solemn 
prayer,  which  contained  first  a  very  humble  and  melting  acknow- 
ledgment of  sin,  and  a  most  earnest  intercession  for  mercy  and 
forgiveness  through  the  merits  of  his  Saviour :  next  resigning 
himself  entirely  into  his  Maker's  hands,  he  begged  that  if  the 
divine  wisdom  intended  him  for  death,  he  might  have  a  due  pre- 
paration for  it ;  but  if  his  life  might  be  in  any  degree  useful  to 
the  church,  even  to  one  single  soul,  he  then  besought  almighty 
God  to  continue  him,  and  by  his  grace  enable  him  to  employ  that 
life  he  so  vouchsafed,  industriously  and  successfully.  After  tins 
he  did  with  great  affection  intercede  for  this  church  and  nation, 
and  with  particular  vigour  and  enforcement  prayed  for  sincere 
performance  of  Christian  duty  now  so  much  decayed,  to  the  equal 
supplanting  and  scandal  of  that  holy  calling ;  that  those  who  pro- 
fessed that  faith  might  live  according  to  the  rules  of  it,  and  to 
the  form  of  godliness  superadd  the  power.  This  with  some  repe- 
titions and  more  tears  he  pursued,  and  at  last  closed  all  in  a 
prayer  for  the  several  concerns  of  the  family  where  he  was.  With 
this  he  frequently  blessed  God  for  so  far  indulging  to  his  infir- 
mity, as  to  make  his  disease  so  painless  to  him ;  withal  to 
send  it  to  him  before  he  took  his  journey,  whereas  it  might 
have  taken  him  in  the  way  or  at  his  inn,  with  far  greater  disad- 
vantages. 

Nor  did  he  in  this  exigence  desist  from  the  exercise  of  his 
accustomed  candour  and  sweetness,  whereby  he  was  used  to 
entertain  the  addresses  of  the  greatest  strangers.  For  two  scho- 
lars coming  at  this  time  to  see  him,  when,  they  having  sent  up 
their  names,  it  appeared  they  were  such  as  he  had  no  acquaint- 
ance with,  though  they  that  were  about  the  doctor,  considering 
his  illness,  proposed  that  a  civil  excuse  might  be  made,  and  the 
visitants  be  so  dismissed :  he  resisted  the  advice  with  the  grea 
earnestness,  saying,  "  I  will  by  no  means  have  them  sent  away, 
for  I  know  not  how  much  they  may  be  concerned  in  the  errand 
they  come  about ;"  and  gave  order  they  should  be  brought  up  : 
and  when  upon  trial  it  appeared  that  a  compliment  was  tin-  whole 
a  flair,  yet  the  good  doctor  seemed  much  satisfied  that  he  had  not 
disappointed  that  unseasonable  kindness. 

Likewise  his  own  necessities,  however   pressing,  diverted  not 
his  concernments  for  those  of  others.      It  so  happened  that  a 


DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND.  399 

neighbour  lady  languishing  under  a  long  weakness,  he  took  care 
that  the  church-office  for  the  sick  should  be  daily  said  in  her 
behalf :  and  though  at  the  beginning  of  the  doctor's  illness  the 
chaplain  made  no  other  variation,  than  to  change  the  singular 
into  the  plural,  yet  when  his  danger  increased,  he  then  thought 
fit  to  pray  peculiarly  for  him  :  which  the  good  doctor  would  by 
no  means  admit,  but  said,  "  0  no,  poor  soul,  let  not  me  be  the 
cause  of  excluding  her;'1  and  accordingly  had  those  prayers  con- 
tinued in  the  more  comprehensive  latitude.  And  indeed  those 
offices  which  had  a  public  character  upon  them  he  peculiarly 
valued.  For  as  to  the  forms  of  devotion  appropriate  to  his  extre- 
mity he  took  care  they  should  not  exclude  the  public  ones,  but 
still  gave  these  a  constant  place  :  and  when  in  his  sharp  agonies 
his  friends  betook  themselves  to  their  extemporary  ejaculations, 
he  composed  those  irregularities  by  saying,  "  Let  us  call  on  God 
in  the  voice  of  his  church." 

And  in  seasons  of  this  kind  whereas  the  making  of  a  will  is 
generally  an  uneasy  task,  as  being  at  once  a  double  parting  with 
the  world  ;  to  him  it  was  in  all  respects  agreeable  and  welcome. 
For  having  bequeathed  several  legacies  to  his  relatives  and 
friends,  and  left  the  remainder  of  his  estate  to  the  disposal  of  his 
intimate  and  approved  friend  Doctor  Henchman 2,  now  lord  bishop 
of  Salisbury,  as  if  recovered  from  the  worst  part  of  his  disease, 
the  necessity  of  reflecting  upon  secular  affairs,  he  became 
strangely  cheerful,  and  overlooked  the  encroaching  importunate 
tyranny  of  sickness. 

On  the  20th  of  A  pril,l>eing  Good- Friday,  he  solemnly  received 
the  sacrament ;  and  again  on  the  22d  of  April,  which  then  was 
Easter-day.  At  which  time  when  the  number  of  communicants 
was  too  great  to  have  place  in  his  bed-chamber,  and  the  whole 
office  was  over-long  for  him  to  go  through  with,  it  was  ordered 
that  the  service  being  performed  in  the  usual  apartment,  a  com- 
petent number  should  afterwards  come  up  and  communicate  with 
him :  which  though  he  allowed  as  most  fitting,  yet  he  did  so  with 
grief  and  trouble,  breaking  out  into  this  passionate  complaint, 
"  Alas  !  must  I  be  excommunicated  ! "  To  be  absent  from  any 
part  of  public  worship  he  thus  deeply  resented  :  so  far  was  he 
from  their  opinion  (and  they  would  be  thought  godly  too)  who  in 

2  Doctor  Henchman.~\  Humphrey  Henchman,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  October 
4,  1660;  of  London,  September  15,  1663.  He  died  in  October,  1675. 


400  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

their  most  healthful  leisureable  days  make  this  not  their  penance, 
but  election  and  choice. 

Amidst  his  weakness  and  indisposition  of  all  parts,  in  the  act 
of  celebration  his  devotion  not  only  was  not  faint  or  sick,  but 
most  intent  and  vigorous :  yet  was  it  equalled  by  his  infinite 
humility,  which  discovered  itself  as  in  his  deportment,  so  particu- 
larly in  that  his  pathetical  ejaculation,  which  brake  forth  at  the 
hearing  of  those  words  of  .the  apostle,  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners ;  unto  which  he  rejoined,  in  an  accent  that 
neither  intended  a  compliment  to  God  nor  men,  to  either  of  which 
he  was  not  under  a  temptation,  "  Of  whom  I  am  the  chief." 

The  exuberance  of  this  humility  appeared  in  all  other  occasions 
of  instance  :  particularly  about  this  time  a  letter  being  sent  unto 
him,  in  which,  among  many  expressions  of  great  value,  there  \\a^ 
added  an  intimation.  "  That  there  was  now  hope  the  days  were 
come  when  his  desert  should  be  considered,  and  himself  employed 
in  the  government  as  well  as  the  instruction  of  the  church  ;"  at 
this  he  was  hugely  discomposed,  and  expressed  a  grief  and  anguish 
beyond  that  his  sickness  in  any  period,  however  sharp,  had  ex- 
torted from  him. 

But  now  through  the  long  suppression  of  urine  the  blood  grown 
thin  and  serous,  withal  made  eager  and  tumultuous  by  the  mix- 
ture of  heterogenous  parts,  the  excellent  doctor  fell  into  a  vio- 
lent bleeding  at  the  nose  ;  at  which  the  by-standers  being  in 
astonishment,  he  cheerfully  admonished  them  "  to  lay  aside  impa- 
tience in  his  behalf,  and  to  wait  God's  leisure,  whose  seasons  were 
still  the  best :"  withal  he  thankfully  acknowledged  God's  mercy 
in  the  dispensation,  alleging,  "  that  to  bleed  to  death  was  one  of 
the  most  desirable  passages  out  of  this  world." 

And  truly  he  very  justly  made  this  observation ;  for  it  pleased 
the  Divine  Providence  strangely  to  balance  the  symptoms  of  the 
doctor's  disease  to  his  advantage :  for  the  sharp  pains  of  the  stone 
were  allayed  by  that  heaviness  of  sense  which  the  recuilment  of 
serous  moisture  into  the  habit  of  the  body  and  insertions  of  tlio 
nerves  occasioned;  and  when  that  oppression  ciul;inir<Ti-(l  a 
lethargic  or  apopletic  torpour,  he  was  retained  from  that  by  the 
flux  of  blood.  Which  several  accidents  interchangeably 
ceeded  one  the  other,  insomuch  that  in  this  whole  time  of  sick- 
ness he  neither  had  long  violence  of  torment,  nor  diminution  of 
his  intellectual  faculties.  And  here  thi>  violent  li:uinnrrh;igG  of 
which  we  now  speak  being  of  itself  even  miraculously  stopj>«  •<]. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  401 

when  all  applications  were  ineffectual,  a  drowsiness  succeeding, 
which  happened  at  the  time  of  prayers,  though  he  perfectly 
attended,  and  returned  to  every  response  amidst  his  importunate 
infirmity,  he  very  sadly  resented  it,  saying,  "  Alas  !  this  is  all  the 
return  I  shall  make  to  this  mercy,  to  sleep  at  prayers." 

When  he  was  in  pain  he  often  prayed  for  patience,  and  while  he 
did  so,  evidenced  that  his  prayer  was  heard ;  for  he  exercised  not 
only  that,  but  thankfulness  too,  in  his  greatest  extremity  crying 
out,  "  Blessed  be  God,  blessed  be  God." 

Nor  did  he,  according  to  the  usual  method,  inflict  his  sick- 
ness upon  those  about  him,  by  peevishness  disquieting  his  attend- 
ants ;  but  was  pleased  with  every  thing  that  was  done,  and  liked 
every  thing  that  was  brought,  condescending  to  all  proposals,  and 
obeying  with  all  readiness  every  advice  of  his  physicians.  Nor 
was  it  any  wonder  he  should  so  return  unto  the  endeavours  of  his 
friends,  who  had  tender  kindness  for  his  enemies,  even  the  most 
inveterate  and  bloody.  When  the  defeat  of  Lambert  and  his 
party,  the  last  effort  of  gasping  treason  in  this  nation  before  its 
blest  return  unto  obedience,  was  told  him,  his  only  triumph  was 
that  of  his  charity,  saying  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  Poor  souls  ! 
I  beseech  God  forgive  them."  So  habitual  was  pity  and  compas- 
sion to  his  soul,  that  all  representations  concentred  there.  Virtue 
had  still  his  prayers,  because  he  loved  it;  and  vice  enjoyed  them 
too,  because  it  wanted  them. 

In  his  own  greatest  desolations  he'administered  reliefs  to  those 
about  him,  mixing  advices  with  his  prayers,  and  twisting  the  ten- 
derness of  a  friend  to  that  of  the  Christian.  He  then  dispensed 
his  best  of  legacies,  his  blessings ;  most  passionately  exhorting 
the  young  growing  hopes  of  the  family,  whose  first  innocence  and 
bashful  shame  of  doing  ill  he  above  all  things  laboured  to  have 
preserved,  "to  be  just  to  the  advantage  of  their  education,  and 
maintain  inviolate  their  first  baptismal  vows :"  then  he  more 
generally  commended  unto  all  the  great  advantage  of  mutual 
friendly  admonitions.  On  which  occasion  when  the  good  lady 
asked  him  what  more  special  thing  he  would  recommend  unto  her 
for  her  whole  life,  he  briefly  replied,  "uniform  obedience:" 
whereby  (if  we  may  take  a  comment  from  himself  at  other  times) 
he  meant  not  only  a  sincere  reception  of  duty  as  such,  because 
commanded,  and  not  because  it  is  this  or  that,  pleasant  or  honour- 
able, or  perchance  cheap  or  easy  duty ;  but  withal  the  very  con- 
dition of  obeying,  the  lot  of  not  being  to  choose  for  one^s  self,  the 

VOL.  iv.  D  d 


402  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

being  determined  in  all  proposals  by  human  or  divine  command, 
and  where  those  were  left  at  large,  by  the  guidance  of  God's 
providence,  or  the  assistance  of  a  friend. 

But  amidst  these  most  Christian  divertisements,  these  happiest 
anodynes  of  sickness,  the  25th  of  April  fatally  drew  on,  wherein 
his  flux  of  blood  breaking  forth  again  with  greater  violence  than 
it  had  done  before,  was  not  to  be  stopped  by  outward  applica- 
tions, nor  the  revulsives  of  any  kind,  not  of  its  own,  the  opening 
of  a  vein,  first  in  the  arm,  and  after  in  the  foot ;  till  at  last  tho 
fountain  being  exhausted,  the  torrent  ceased  its  course,  and 
indeed  that  vital  one  which  its  regular  motion  kept  on  foot :  for 
the  good  doctor  leaving  off  to  bleed  about  three  of  the  clock  in 
the  afternoon,  became  very  weak  and  dis-spirited,  and  cold  in  the 
extreme  parts,  had  strength  only  continued  to  persevere  in  his 
devotions,  which  he  did  unto  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  a  few 
minutes  before  his  death  breathing  out  those  words  which  best 
became  his  Christian  life,  u  Lord,  make  haste/' 

And  so  upon  that  very  day  on  which  the  parliament  convened, 
which  laid  the  foundation  of  our  release  and  liberty,  and  brought 
at  once  this  nation's  return  from  its  captivity,  and  its  gracious 
sovereign  prince,  this  great  champion  of  religion  and  pattern  of 
all  virtue,  as  if  reserved  for  masteries  and  combats  of  exigence 
and  hazard,  for  persecution  and  sufferings,  was  taken  hence,  and 
by  his  loss  represt  the  overflowing  and  extravagance  of  those 
joys  that  waited  the  reception  of  his  sacred  majesty. 

It  will  be  below  the  greatness  of  the  person  as  well  as  of  tin's 
loss,  to  celebrate  his  death  in  womanish  complaints,  or  indeed  by 
any  verbal  applications  ;  his  worth  is  not  to  be  described  by  any 
words  besides  his  own,  nor  can  any  thing  beseem  his  memory  but 
what  is  sacred  and  eternal  as  those  writings  are.  May  his  just 
fame  from  them  and  from  his  virtue  be  precious  to  succeeding 
times,  grow  up  and  flourish  still :  and  when  characters  engraven 
in  brass  shall  disappear,  as  if  they  had  been  writ  in  water  ;  when 
elogies  committed  to  the  trust  of  marble  shall  be  illegible  as 
whispered  accents ;  when  pyramids  dissolved  in  dust  shall  want 
themselves  a  monument  to  evidence  that  they  were  once  so  much 
M-  ruin  ;  let  that  remain  a  known  and  classic  history  describing 
him  in  his  full  portraiture  among  the  best  of  subjects,  of  friends, 
of  scholars,  and  of  men. 

The  dead  body  being  opened  (which  licre  is  mentioned,  for 
that  the  reader  cannot  want  the  curiosity  to  desire  to  know  every 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  403 

thing  that  concerned  this  great  person)  the  principal  and  vital 
parts  appeared  sound ;  only  the  right  kidney,  or  rather  its  re- 
mainder, which  exceeded  not  the  bigness  of  an  egg,  was  hard  and 
knotty,  and  in  its  cavity  besides  several  little  ones,  was  a  large 
stone  of  the  figure  of  an  almond,  though  much  bigger,  whose 
lesser  end  was  fallen  into  the  urethra,  and  as  a  stopple  closed  it 
up ;  so  that  it  is  probable  that  kidney  had  for  divers  years  been 
in  a  manner  useless.  The  other  kidney  was  swoln  beyond  the 
natural  proportion,  otherwise  not  much  decayed  ;  but  within  the 
urethra  four  fingers1  breadth  a  round  white  stone  was  lodged, 
which  was  so  fastened  in  the  part,  that  the  physician  with  his 
probe  could  not  stir  it,  and  was  fain  at  last  to  cut  it  out :  and  so 
exactly  it  stopped  the  passage,  that  upon  the  dissection  the  water 
before  enclosed  gushed  forth  in  great  abundance  :  from  whence  it 
appeared  perfectly  impossible  for  art  to  have  ennobled  itself  in 
the  preservation  of  this  great  person  ;  as  it  was  also  manifest 
that  nothing  but  the  consequences  of  his  indefatigable  study  took 
him  from  us,  in  the  perfection  and  maturity,  the  55th  year  of  his 
life. 

On  the  morrow  in  the  evening,  the  26th  day  of  the  same 
month,  he  was,  according  to  his  desire,  without  ostentation  or 
pomp,  though  with  all  becoming  decency,  buried 3  at  the  neigh- 
bour-church of  Hampton,  with  the  whole  office  and  usual  rites  of 
the  church  of  England,  several  of  the  gentry  and  clergy  of  the 
county,  and  affectionate  multitudes  of  persons  of  less  quality 
attending  on  his  obsequies,  the  clergy  with  ambition  offering 
themselves  to  bear  him  on  their  shoulders ;  which  accordingly 
they  did,  and  laid  that  sacred  burthen  in  the  burial-place  of  the 
generous  family  which  with  such  friendship  had  entertained  him 
when  alive  :  where  now  he  rests  in  peace,  and  full  assurance  of  a 
glorious  resurrection. 

Having  thus  given  a  faithful,  though  imperfect,  draught  of  this 
excellent  person,  whose  virtues  are  so  far  from  imitation  by  prac- 
tice, that  they  exercise  and  strain  the  comprehension  of  words  ; 
and  having  shewed  how  much  he  has  merited  of  this  nation  in  its 

3  Buried.]  We  are  told  by  our  author,  bishop  Fell,  in  his  account  of  the 
eminent  loyalist  Dr.  Richard  Allestree,  that  in  his  return  from  a  visit 
to  his  relations  in  Shropshire,  designing  to  visit  his  worthy  friend,  Dr. 
Hammond,  at  Westwood  near  Worcester,  he  met  at  the  gate,  the  body  of 
that  great  man  carrying  to  his  burial.  Preface  to  Dr.  Allestree's  Sermons, 
fol.  1684. 

Dd   2 


404  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

most  pressing  exigents,  both  by  his  writings  and  by  his  example, 
and  perchance  above  both  these  by  his  unwearied  intercession 
in  devotion  ;  it  may  possibly  be  neither  useless  nor  unacceptable 
to  offer  a  request  unto  the  reader  in  his  behalf,  and  shew  him  an 
expedient  whereby  he  may  pay  his  debt  of  gratitude,  and  eminently 
oblige  this  holy  saint  though  now  with  God. 

It  is  this,  to  add  unto  his  account  in  the  day  of  retribution  by 
taking  benefit  by  his  performances :  and  as  he  being  dead  yet 
speaks,  so  let  him  persuade  likewise  ; — 

That  the  covetous  reader  would  now  at  his  request  put  off  his 
sordid  vice,  and  take  courage  to  be  liberal,  assured  by  his 
example,  that  if  in  the  worst  of  times  profuseness  could  make 
rich,  charity  shall  never  bring  to  beggary  : 

That  the  proud  opinionated  person  on  the  same  terms  would 
in  civility  to  him  descend  from  his  fond  heights,  instructed  here 
that  lowly  meekness  shall  compass  great  respects,  and  instead  of 
hate  or  flattery  be  waited  on  with  love  and  veneration  : 

That  the  debauched  or  idle  would  leave  upon  this  score  his 
lewd  unwarrantable  joys,  convinced  that  strict  and  rugged  virtue 
made  an  age  of  sun-shine,  a  life  of  constant  smiles,  amidst  the 
dreadfullest  tempests ;  taught  the  gout,  the  stone,  the  cramp, 
the  cholic,  to  be  treatable  companions,  and  made  it  eligible  to  live 
in  bad  times  and  die  in  flourishing  : 

That  the  angry  man,  who  calls  passion  at  least  justice,  possibly 
zeal  and  duty,  would  for  his  sake  assume  a  different  temper, 
believe  that  arguments  may  be  answered  by  saying  reason, 
calumnies  by  saying  no,  and  railings  by  saying  nothing : 

The  coward  and  disloyal,  that  durst  not  own  in  words,  much 
less  by  service  and  relief,  his  prince,  that  complimented  his  apos- 
tasy and  treason  by  the  soft  terms  of  changing  an  interest,  will 
from  hence  learn  that  the  surest  way  to  safety  is  to  have  but  one 
interest,  and  that  espoused  so  firmly  as  never  to  be  changed ; 
since  such  a  constancy  was  that  which  a  Cromwell  durst  not 
persecute : 

That  the  employed  in  business  would  from  hence  dismiss  their 
fears  of  regular  piety,  their  suspicion  that  devotion  would  hinder 
all  dispatch  and  manage  of  affairs  ;  since  it  appeared,  his  constant 
office  (like  the  prayer  of  Joshua,  which  made  the  sun  stand  still) 
seemed  to  have  rendered  unto  him  each  day  as  long  as  two : 

That  the  ambitious  person,  especially  the  ecclesiastic,  would 
think  employment  and  high  place  a  stewardship,  that  renders 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  405 

debtors  both  to  God  and  man,  a  residence  at  once  of  constant 
labour  and  attendance  too  ;  a  precipice  that  equally  exposes 
both  to  envy  and  to  ruin  :  and  consequently  to  be  that  which 
should  become  our  greatest  fear  and  terror,  but  at  no  hand  our 
choice :  since  it  was  that  which  this  heroic  constancy  was  not 
ashamed  to  own  a  dread  of,  and  whose  appearance  did  render 
death  itself  relief  and  rescue  : 

Lastly,  that  the  narrow  self-designing  person,  who  understands 
no  kindness  but  advantage ;  the  sensual,  that  knows  no  love  but 
lust ;  the  intemperate,  that  owns  no  companion  but  drink  ;  may 
all  at  once  from  him  reform  their  brutish  errors  :  since  he  has 
made  it  evident,  that  a  friend  does  fully  satisfy  these  distant  and 
importunate  desires,  being  as  the  most  innocent  and  certainly 
ingenuous  entertainment,  so  besides  that  the  highest  mirth,  the 
greatest  interest,  and  surest  pleasure  in  the  world. 

They  that  had  the  happiness  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
this  best  of  men,  this  saint,  who  seems  in  our  decays  of  ancient 
virtue  lent  us  by  special  providence  even  for  this  end  and  purpose, 
that  we  might  not  disbelieve  the  faith  of  history  delivering  the 
excellency  of  primitive  Christians,  know  with  what  thirst  and 
eagerness  of  soul  he  sought  the  spiritual  advantage  of  any  single 
man  how  mean  soever,  with  what  enjoyment  he  beheld  the  reco- 
very of  any  such  from  an  ill  course  and  habit.  And  whatever 
apprehensions  other  men  may  have,  they  will  be  easily  induced  to 
think,  that  if  blessed  spirits  have  commerce  with  earth,  (as  surely 
we  have  reason  to  believe  it  somewhat  more  than  possible,)  they, 
I  say,  will  resolve  it  a  connatural  and  highly-agreeable  accession 
unto  his  fruitions,  that  when  there  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels  of  God  for  a  sinner  that  repents,  he  may  be  an  immediate 
accessory  to  that  blessed  triumph,  and  be  concerned  beyond  the 
rate  of  a  bare  spectator. 

Persuasions  to  piety  now-a-days  are  usually  in  scorn  called 
preaching  :  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  this,  how  contemptible  an 
office  soever  it  be  grown,  will  be  no  indecency  in  this  instance ; 
that  it  will  not  be  absurd  if  his  history,  who  deservedly  was 
reckoned  among  the  best  of  preachers,  whose  life  was  the  best  of 
sermons,  should  bear  a  correspondence  to  its  subject,  and  pro- 
fessedly close  with  an  application :  that  it  adjures  all  persons  to 
be  what  they  promised  God  Almighty  they  would  be  in  their  bap- 
tismal vows,  what  they  see  the  glorious  saints  and  martyrs  and 
confessors,  and  in  particular  this  holy  man  has  been  before  them ; 


406  DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND. 

be  what  is  most  honourable,  most  easy  and  advantageous  to  be  at 
present;  and,  in  a  word,  to  render  themselves  such  as  they 
desire  to  be  upon  their  death-beds,  before  they  leave  the  world, 
and  then  would  be  for  ever. 

Which  blest  atchievement  as  it  was  the  great  design  of  the 
excellent  doctor's  both  words  and  writings,  his  thoughts  and 
actions,  is  also  (besides  the  payment  of  a  debt  to  friendship  and 
to  virtue)  the  only  aim  of  this  imperfect,  but  yet  affectionate  and 
well-meant,  account :  and  may  almighty  God  by  the  assistance  of 
his  grace  give  all  of  these  this  their  most  earnestly-desired  effect 
and  issue ! 


By  the  generous  piety  of  the  right  reverend  father  in  God  Hum- 
phrey lord  bishop  of  Sarum,  there  is  now  erected  to  the  sacred 
memory  of  this  great  person  in  the  parish-church  of  Hampton, 
the  place  of  his  interment,  a  fair  monument  of  white  marble 
bearing  this  inscription. 

HENRICUS  HAMMONDUS. 

Ad  cujus  nomen  assurgit 
Quicquid  est  gentia  literatae, 

(Dignum  nomen 
Quod  auro,  non  atramento, 

Nee  in  marmore  perituro,  sed  adamante  potius  exaretur) 
Musagetes  celeberrimus,  vir  plane  summus, 

Theologus  omnium  consummatissimus, 
Eruditae  pietatis  decus  simul  et  exemplar ; 

Sacri  codicis  interpres 
Facile  omnium  oculatissimus, 

Errorum  malleus 
Post  homines  natos  felicissimus, 

Veritatis  hyperaspistes 

Supra-quam-dici-potest  nervosus ; 

In  cujus  script  is 

Elucescunt 

Ingenii  gra vitas  et  acumen, 

Judicii  sublimitas  et  'jUpi/3ttn, 

ntentiaruin'Oy/coc  et  A«v<Jri/c, 

Docendi  methodus  utilissima, 

Nusquam  dormitans  diligentia. 

Hammondus  (inquam)  6  iraw, 
In  ipsa  mortis  vicinia  positus, 
Immortalitati  quasi  contiguus, 


DOCTOR  HENRY  HAMMOND.  407 

Exuvias  mortis  venerandas 

(Praeter  quas  nihil  mortals  habuit) 

Sub  obscuro  hoc  marmore 

Latere  voluit, 

vn.  Cal.  Maias, 

Ann.  ^Etat.  LV. 

MDCLX. 

The  marble  tablet  would  receive  no  more  in  charge  :  but  ours 
indulging  greater  liberty,  I  shall  set  down  the  whole  elogie,  as  it 
grew  upon  the  affectionate  pen  of  the  reverend  doctor  T.  Pierce, 
who  was  employed  to  draw  it  up. 

Sed  latere  qui  voluit,  ipsas  latebras  illustrat ; 

Et  pagum  alias  obscurum 

Invitus  cogit  inclarescere. 

Nullibi  Mvrjuoawov  illi  potest  deesse, 

Qui,  nisi  d^io/xvj/jttovevrov, 
Nihil  aut  dixit  aut  fecit  unquam. 

'Av£pt  yevvaiy  •naaa  yrj  Ta<pog. 

Animi  dotibus  ita  annos  anteverterat, 

Ut  in  ipsa  linguae  infantia  rpiyXwrrof, 

Eaque  setate  Magister  Artium, 

Qua  vix  alii  tyrones,  esset. 

Tarn  sagaci  fuit  industria, 

Ut  horas  etiam  subsecivas  utilius  perderet 

Quam  pleriq;  mortalium  serias  suas  collocarunt. 

Nemo  rectius  de  se  meruit, 

Nemo  sensit  demissius ; 

Nihil  eo  aut  excelsius  erat,  aut  humilius. 

Scriptis  suis  factisque 

Sibi  uni  non  placuit, 

Qui  tarn  calamo  quam  vita 

Humano  generi  complacuerat. 

Ita  labores  pro  Dei  sponsa,  ipsoq;  Deo  exantlavit, 

Ut  ccelum  ipsum  ipsius  humeris  incubuisse  videretur. 

IlapaXXjfXiav  omnem  supergressus 
Romanenses  vicit,  profligavit  Genevates, 

De  utrisque  triumpharunt 

ET  VERITAS  et  HAMMONDUS  : 

Utrisque  merito  triumphaturis, 

Ab  Hammondo  victis,  et  Veritate. 

Qualis  ille  inter  amicos  censendus  erit, 

Qui  demereri  sibi  adversos  vel  hostes  potuit  ? 

Omnes  haereses  incendiarias 

Atramento  suo  deleri  maluit, 

Quam  ipsorum  aut  sanguine  extingui, 

Aut  dispendio  animae  expiari. 


408  DOCTOR  HENRY   HAMMOND. 

Coeli  indigena 
Eo  divitias  prsemittebat, 

Ut  ubi  cor  jam  erat, 
Ibi  etiam  thesaurus  esset : 

In  hoc  uno  avarus, 

Quod  prolixe  benevolus  prodiga  manu  erogavit, 

^Eternitatem  in  foenore  lucraturus. 

Quicquid  habuit,  voluit  habere, 

Etiam  invalids  valetudinis. 

Ita  habuit  in  deliciis  non  magis  facere  quam  sufferre 
Totam  Dei  voluntatem,  ut  frui  etiam  videretur 

Vel  morbi  taedio. 
Summam  animi  yaXrjvijv  testatam  fecit 

Hilaris  irons  et  exporrecta : 

Nusquam  alias  in  filiis  hominum 

Gratior  ex  pulchro  veniebat  corpore  virtus. 

Omne  jam  tulerat  punctum, 

Omnium  plausus, 

Cum  mors,  quasi  suum  adjiciens  calculum, 
Funesta  lithiasi  terris  abstulit 

Cceli  avidum, 
Maturum  coelo. 

Abi,  viator, 

Pauca  sufficiat  delibasse : 

Reliqua  serae  posteritati  narranda  restant, 

Quibus  pro  merito  enarrandis 

Una  aetas  non  sufficit. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON. 


These  confusions  kept  increasing,  under  different  forms,  each  more  ridi- 
culous or  more  horrid  than  the  other,  till  this  miserable  nation,  now  become 
the  scorn  and  opprobrium  of  the  whole  earth,  at  length  grew  tired,  rather 
than  ashamed,  of  its  repeated  follies.  In  this  temper  they  hastily  recalled 
the  heir  of  the  monarchy :  and  as  the  cause  of  all  these  miseries  had  been 
their  insisting  on  unreasonable  conditions  from  the  crown,  they  did  like  men 
driven  out  of  one  extreme,  who  never  take  breath  till  they  have  plunged 
themselves  into  another,  they  strove  to  atone  for  their  unjust  demands  upon 
the  virtuous  father,  by  the  most  lavish  concessions  to  his  flagitious  son :  who 
succeeded  to  the  inheritance  with  all  those  advantages  of  an  undefined  prero- 
gative, which  an  ambitious  prince  could  wish  for  the  foundation  of  an  arbi- 
trary system  :  A  sad  presage  to  the  friends  of  liberty,  that  their  generous 
labours  were  not  yet  at  an  end !  Indeed,  within  less  than  half  a  century,  the 
old  family  projects,  taken  up  again  by  the  two  last  princes  of  this  line, 
revived  the  public  quarrel.  But  it  was  conducted  under  happier  auspices, 
not  by  the  assistance  of  SECTARIES,  but  by  the  NATIONAL  CHURCH;  and 
concluded  in  the  final  establishment  of  a  free  constitution. 

BISHOP  WARBURTON. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  Life  of  Bishop  Sanderson,  written  by  Isaac  Walton  in  the 
eighty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  is  here  printed  intire  from  the  third 
impression,  prefixed  to  his  Sermons,  and  bearing  date  1686.  It 
was  first  published  in  a  somewhat  less  correct  state,  in  the  year 
1678,  and  was  then  accompanied  by  some  short  Tracts,  written 
by  Sanderson,  and  by  a  Sermon  of  Richard  Hooker's,  found  in 
the  study  of  bishop  Andrews ;  circumstances  which  it  is  proper 
to  mention,  for  the  purpose  of  explaining  some  passages  in  the 
following  Preface. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  REVEREND  AND  HONOURABLE 

GEORGE,  LORD  BISHOP  OF  WINCHESTER, 

PRELATE    OF    THE    GARTER, 
AND    ONE    OF    HIS    MAJESTY'S    PRIVY    COUNCIL. 

MY  LORD, 

IF!  should  undertake  to  enumerate  the  many  favours  and  advan- 
tages I  have  had  by  my  very  long  acquaintance  with  your  lord- 
ship, I  should  enter  upon  an  employment,  that  might  prove  as 
tedious,  as  the  collecting  of  the  materials  for  this  poor  monument, 
which  I  have  erected,  and  do  dedicate  to  the  memory  of  your 
beloved  friend  Dr.  Sanderson.  But,  though  I  will  not  venture  to 
do  that ;  yet,  I  do  remember  with  pleasure  and  remonstrate  with 
gratitude,  that  your  lordship  made  me  known  to  him,  Mr.  Cliil- 
lingworth,  and  Dr.  Hammond ;  men,  whose  merits  ought  never 
to  be  forgotten. 

My  friendship  with  the  first  was  begun  almost  forty  years  past, 
when  I  was  as  far  from  a  thought,  as  a  desire  to  out-live  him ; 
and  farther  from  an  intention  to  write  his  life :  but  the  wise  Dis- 
poser of  all  men's  lives  and  actions  hath  prolonged  the  first,  and 
now  permitted  the  last ;  which  is  here  dedicated  to  your  lordship 
(and  as  it  ought  to  be)  with  all  humility,  and  a  desire  that  it 
remain,  as  a  public  testimony  of  my  gratitude. 

My  lord, 
Your  most  affectionate  old  friend, 

And  most  humble  servant, 

IZAAC  WAI/I  «'\ 


PREFACE. 


I  DARE  neither  think,  nor  assure  the  reader,  that  I  have  com- 
mitted no  mistakes  in  this  relation  of  the  life  of  Dr.  SANDERSON  ; 
but  am  sure,  there  is  none  that  are  either  wilful,  or  very  material. 
I  confess  it  was  worthy  the  employment  of  some  person  of  more 
learning  and  greater  abilities  than  I  can  pretend  to ;  and  I  have 
not  a  little  wondered  that  none  have  yet  been  so  grateful  to  him 
and  posterity,  as  to  undertake  it.  For  as  it  may  be  noted,  that 
our  Saviour  had  a  care,  that  for  Mary  Magdalen^s  kindness  to  him, 
her  name  should  never  be  forgotten:  so  I  conceive,  the  great 
satisfaction  many  scholars  have  already  had,  and  the  unborn  world 
is  like  to  have,  by  his  exact,  clear  and  useful  learning ;  and  might 
have  by  a  true  narrative  of  his  matchless  meekness,  his  calm  for- 
titude and  the  innocence  of  his  whole  life  ;  doth  justly  challenge 
the  like  from  this  present  age ;  that  posterity  may  not  be  igno- 
rant of  them :  and  it  is  to  me  a  wonder,  that  it  has  been  already 
fifteen  years  neglected.  But,  in  saying  this,  my  meaning  is  not 
to  upbraid  others  (I  am  far  from  that)  but  excuse  myself,  or  beg 
pardon  for  daring  to  attempt  it. 

This  being  premised  I  desire  to  tell  the  reader,  that  in  this  rela- 
tion I  have  been  so  bold,  as  to  paraphrase  and  say,  what  I  think 
he  (whom  I  had  the  happiness  to  know  well)  would  have  said  upon 
the  same  occasions  ;  and  if  I  have  been  too  bold  in  doing  so,  and 
cannot  now  beg  pardon  of  him  that  loved  me ;  yet,  I  do  of  my 
reader,  from  whom  I  desire  the  same  favour. 

And,  though  my  age  might  have  procured  me  a  writ  of  ease, 
and  that  secured  me  from  all  further  trouble  in  this  kind ; 
yet  I  met  with  such  persuasions  to  undertake  it,  and  so  many 
willing  informers  since,  and  from  them  and  others,  such  helps  and 
encouragements  to  proceed,  that  when  I  found  myself  faint  and 
weary  of  the  burthen  with  which  I  have  loaden  myself,  and  some- 
time ready  to  lay  it  down  ;  yet  time  and  new  strength  hath  at 


414  PREFACE. 

last  brought  it  to  be  what  it  now  is,  and  is  here  presented  to  the 
reader,  and  with  it  this  desire ;  that  he  will  take  notice  that  Dr. 
Sanderson  did  in  his  will  or  last  sickness  advertise  that  after  his 
death  nothing  of  his  might  be  printed ;  because  that  might  be  said 
to  be  his  which  indeed  was  not ;  and  also,  for  that  he  might  have 
changed  his  opinion  since  he  first  writ  it,  as  it  is  thought  he 
has  since  he  writ  his  Pax  Ecclesice.  And  though  these  reasons 
ought  to  be  regarded,  yet  regarded  so,  as  he  resolves  in  his  case 
of  conscience  concerning  rash  vows,  that  there  may  appear  very 
good  second  reasons,  why  we  may  forbear  to  perform  them.  How- 
ever, for  his  said  reasons,  they  ought  to  be  read  as  we  do  Apo- 
cryphal Scripture ;  to  explain,  but  not  oblige  us  to  so  firm  a 
belief  of  what  is  here  presented  as  his. 

And  I  have  this  to  say  more ;  that  as  in  my  queries  for  writing 
Dr.  SANDERSON'S  Life,  I  met  with  these  little  tracts  annexed; 
so  in  my  former  queries  for  my  information  to  write  the  life  of 
venerable  Mr.  Hooker,  I  met  with  a  sermon,  which  I  also  believe 
was  really  his,  and  here  is  presented  as  his  to  the  reader.  It  is 
affirmed  (and  I  have  met  with  reason  to  believe  it)  that  there  be 
some  artists,  that  do  certainly  know  an  original  picture  from  a 
copy ;  and  in  what  age  of  the  world,  and  by  whom  drawn :  and 
if  so,  then  I  hope  it  may  be  as  safely  affirmed,  that  what  is  here 
presented  for  theirs,  is  so  like  their  temper  of  mind,  their  other 
writings,  the  times  when,  and  the  occasions  upon  which  they 
were  writ,  that  all  readers  may  safely  conclude,  they  could  be 
writ  by  none  but  venerable  Mr.  Hooker,  and  the  humble  and 
learned  Dr.  Sanderson. 

And  lastly,  the  trouble  being  now  past,  I  look  back  and  am  glad 
that  I  have  collected  these  memoirs  of  this  humble  man,  which  lay 
scattered,  and  have  contracted  them  into  a  narrower  com]-, 
and  if  I  have  by  the  pleasant  toil  of  so  doing,  either  pleased  or 
profited  any  man,  I  have  attained  what  I  designed  when  I  first 
undertook  it :  but  I  seriously  wish,  both  for  the  reader's,  and  Dr. 
Sanderson's  sake,  that  posterity  had  known  his  great  learning  and 
virtue  by  a  better  pen;  by  such  a  pen,  as  could  have  made  his 
lite  as  immortal  as  his  learning  and  merits  ought  to  be. 

I.  \V. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON. 


DOCTOR  ROBERT  SANDERSON,  the  late  learned  bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, whose  life  I  intend  to  write  with  all  truth  and  equal  plain- 
ness, was  born  the  nineteenth  day  of  September,  in  the  year1 
of  our  redemption,  1587.  The  place  of  his  birth  was  Rotherham 
in  the  county  of  York,  a  town  of  good  note,  and  the  more,  for 
that  Thomas  Rotherham,  sometime  archbishop  of  that  see,  was 
born  in  it ;  a  man,  whose  great  wisdom  and  bounty,  and  sanctity 
of  life,  gave  a  denomination  to  it,  or  hath  made  it  the  more  memo- 
rable ;  as  indeed  it  ought  also  to  be,  for  being  the  birth-place  of 
our  Robert  Sanderson.  And,  the  reader  will  be  of  my  belief,  if 
this  humble  relation  of  his  life  can  hold  any  proportion  with  his 
great  sanctity,  his  useful  learning,  and  his  many  other  extraordi- 
nary endowments. 

He  was  the  second  and  youngest  son  of  Robert  Sanderson  of 
Gilthwait-hall  in  the  said  parish  and  county,  esq.  by  Elizabeth  one 
of  the  daughters  of  Richard  Carr  of  Buterthwate-hall,  in  the 
parish  of  Ecclesfield  in  the  said  county  of  York,  gentleman. 

This  Robert  Sanderson  the  father,  was  descended  from  a  numer- 
ous, ancient  and  honourable  family  of  his  own  name :  for  the 
search  of  which  truth,  I  refer  my  reader,  that  inclines  to  it,  to 
Dr.  Thoroton's  history  of  the  Antiquities  of  Nottinghamshire, 
and  other  records ;  not  thinking  it  necessary  here  to  engage  him 
into  a  search  for  bare  titles,  which  are  noted  to  have  in  them 
nothing  of  reality :  for,  titles  not  acquired,  but  derived  only,  do 
but  shew  us  who  of  our  ancestors  have,  and  how  they  have 

1  In  the  year.~\  Baptised  the  next  day.  "1587.  Sept.  20,  Rob'tus  Saun- 
d'son,  fil.  Rob'ti  Saund'son."  Wood's  Athena,  vol.  iii.  p.  630.  Bliss's  edit. 


416  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

atchieved  that  honour  which  their  descendants  claim,  and  may  not 
be  worthy  to  enjoy.  For  if  those  titles  descend  to  persons  that 
degenerate  into  vice,  and  break  off  the  continued  line  of  learning, 
or  valour,  or  that  virtue  that  acquired  them,  they  destroy  the  very 
foundation  upon  which  that  honour  was  built ;  and  all  the  rubbish 
of  their  degenerousness  ought  to  fall  heavy  on  such  dishonourable 
heads ;  ought  to  fall  so  heavy,  as  to  degrade  them  of  their  titles, 
and  blast  their  memories  with  reproach  and  shame. 

But  this  Robert  Sanderson  lived  worthy  of  his  name  and  family; 
of  which  one  testimony  may  be,  that  Gilbert,  called  the  great  and 
glorious  earl  of  Shrewsbury,  thought  him  not  unworthy  to  be 
joined  with  him  as  a  god-father  to  Gilbert  Sheldon,  the  late  lord 
archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  to  whose  merits  and  memory  posterity 
(the  clergy  especially)  ought  to  pay  a  reverence. 

But  I  return  to  my  intended  relation  of  Robert  the  son,  who 
(like  Josiah  that  good  king)  began  in  his  youth  to  make  the  laws 
of  God,  and  obedience  to  his  parents,  the  rules  of  his  life ;  seeming 
even  then,  to  dedicate  himself  and  all  his  studies,  to  piety  and 
virtue. 

And,  as  he  was  inclined  to  this  by  that  native  goodness,  with 
which  the  wise  Disposer  of  all  hearts  had  endowed  his ;  so  this 
calm,  this  quiet  and  happy  temper  of  mind  (his  being  mild  and 
averse  to  oppositions)  made  the  whole  course  of  his  life  easy  and 
grateful  both  to  himself  and  others.  And  this  blessed  temper  was 
maintained  and  improved  by  his  prudent  father's  good  example ; 
as  also,  by  his  frequent  conversing  with  him,  and  scattering  short 
and  virtuous  apophthegms  with  little  pleasant  stories,  and  making 
useful  applications  of  them,  by  which  his  son  was  in  his  infancy 
taught  to  abhor  vanity  and  vice  as  monsters,  and  to  discern  the 
loveliness  of  wisdom  and  virtue ;  and  by  these  means  and  God's 
concurring  grace,  his  knowledge  was  so  augmented,  and  his  native 
goodness  so  confirmed,  that  all  became  so  habitual,  as  it  was 
not  easy  to  determine  whether  nature  or  education  were  his 
teachers. 

And  here  let  me  tell  the  reader,  that  these  early  beginnings  of 
virtue  were  by  God's  assisting  grace  blest  with  what  St.  Paul 
seemed  to  beg  for  his  Philippians;  namely,  that  he  that  had 
begun  a  good  work  in  them,  would  finish  it.  (Phil.  i.  6.)  And 
Almighty  God  did :  for  his  whole  life  was  so  regular  and  innocent, 
that  he  might  have  said  at  his  death  (and  with  truth  and  comfort) 
what  the  same  St.  Paul  said  after  to  the  same  Philippians, 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  417 

he  advised  them  to  walk  as  they  had  him  for  an  example.  (Chap, 
iii.  17.) 

And  this  goodness,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  seemed  to  increase 
as  his  years  did ;  and  with  his  goodness  his  learning,  the  founda- 
tion of  which  was  laid  in  the  grammar  school  of  Rotheram  (that 
being  one  of  those  three  that  were  founded  and  liberally  endowed 
by  the  said  great  and  good  bishop  of  that  name).  And  in  this 
time  of  his  being  a  scholar  there,  he  was  observed  to  use  an 
unwearied  diligence  to  attain  learning,  and  to  have  a  seriousness 
beyond  his  age  2,  and  with  it  a  more  than  common  modesty  ; 
and  to  be  of  so  calm  and  obliging  behaviour,  that  the  master  and 
whole  number  of  scholars  loved  him  as  one  man. 

And  in  this  love  and  amity  he  continued  at  that  school,  till 
about  the  thirteenth  year  of  his  age ;  at  which  time  his  father 
designed  to  improve  his  grammar  learning  by  removing  him  from 
Eotheram  to  one  of  the  more  noted  schools  of  Eton  or  West- 
minster :  and  after  a  year's  stay  there,  then  to  remove  him  thence 
to  Oxford.  But,  as  he  went  with  him,  he  called  on  an  old  friend, 
a  minister  of  noted  learning,  and  told  him  his  intentions ;  and 
he,  after  many  questions  with  his  son,  received  such  answers 
from  him,  that  he  assured  his  father,  his  son  was  so  perfect  a 
grammarian,  that  he  had  laid  a  good  foundation  to  build  any  or 
all  the  arts  upon;  and  therefore  advised  him  to  shorten  his 
journey,  and  leave  him  at  Oxford.  And  his  father  did  so. 

His  father  left  him  there  to  the  sole  care  and  manage  of  Dr. 
Kilbie,  who  was  then  rector  of  Lincoln  college :  and  he,  after 
some  time  and  trial  of  his  manners  and  learning,  thought  fit  to 
enter  him  of  that  college,  and  not  long  after  to  matriculate  him 
in  the  university,  which  he  did  the  first  of  July  1603 :  but  he 
was  not  chosen  fellow  till  the  third  of  May  1606;  at  which 
time  he  had  taken  his  degree  of  batchelor  of  arts ;  at  the  taking 
of  which  degree,  his  tutor  told  the  rector,  that  his  pupil  Sander- 

2  Beyond  his  age.']  "  For  myself,"  (he  tells  us  in  the  preface  to  his  Ser- 
mons, dated  1657,)  "  I  had  a  desire  I  may  truly  say,  almost  from  my  very 
childhood,  to  understand  as  much  as  was  possible  for  me,  the  bottom  of  our 
religion  ;  and  particularly  as  it  stood  in  relation  both  to  the  Papist,  and  (as 
they  were  then  styled)  Puritans ;  to  inform  myself  rightly,  wherein  consisted 
the  true  differences  between  them  and  the  church  of  England,  together  with 
the  grounds  of  those  differences:  for  I  could  even  then  observe  (which 
was  no  hard  matter  to  do),  that  the  most  of  mankind  took  up  their  religion 
upon  trust,  as  custom  or  education  framed  them,  rather  than  choice." 
P.  76,  edit.  1689. 

VOL.  iv.  E  e 


418  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

son  had  a  metaphysical  brain,  and  a  matchless  memory :  and 
that  he  thought  he  had  improved,  or  made  the  last  so  by  an  art 
of  his  own  invention.  And  all  the  future  employments  of  his 
life  proved  that  his  tutor  was  not  mistaken. 

I  must  here  stop  my  reader,  and  tell  him,  that  this  Dr.  Kilbie 
was  a  man  of  so  great  learning  and  wisdom,  and  so  excellent  a 
critic  in  the  Hebrew  tongue,  that  he  was  made  professor  of  it  in 
this  university  ;  and  was  also  so  perfect  a  Grecian,  that  he  was 
by  king  James  appointed  to  be  one  of  the  translators  of  the 
bible :  and  that  this  doctor  and  Mr.  Sanderson  had  frequent  dis- 
courses, and  loved  as  father  and  son.  The  doctor  was  to  ride  a 
journey  into  Derbyshire,  and  took  Mr.  Sanderson  to  bear  him 
company :  and  they  resting  on  a  Sunday  with  the  doctor's  friend, 
and  going  together  to  that  parish  church  where  they  then  were, 
found  the  young  preacher  to  have  no  more  discretion,  than  to 
waste  a  great  part  of  the  hour  allotted  for  his  sermon  in  excep- 
tions against  the  late  translation 3  of  several  words  (not  expecting 
such  a  hearer  as  Dr.  Kilbie)  and  shewed  three  reasons  why  a 
particular  word  should  have  been  otherwise  translated.  When 
evening  prayer  was  ended,  the  preacher  was  invited  to  the 
doctor's  friend's  house ;  where,  after  some  other  conference, 
the  doctor  told  him,  "  He  might  have  preached  more  useful 
doctrine,  and  not  have  filled  his  auditors1  ears  with  needless 
exceptions  against  the  late  translation ;  and  for  that  word,  for 
which  he  offered  to  that  poor  congregation  three  reasons,  why  it- 
ought  to  have  been  translated  as  he  said ;  he  and  others  had 
considered  all  them,  and  found  thirteen  more  considerable  reasons 
why  it  was  translated  as  now  printed:"  and  told  him,  "If  hi> 
friend,  then  attending  him,  should  prove  guilty  of  such  indis- 
cretion, he  should  forfeit  his  favour."  To  which  Mr.  Sanderson 
said,  "  He  hoped  he  should  not."  And  the  preacher  was  so 
ingenuous  as  to  say,  "  He  would  not  justify  himself."  And  so 
1  return  to  Oxford. 

In  the  year  1608  (July  the  llth,)  Mr.  Sanderson  was  com- 
pleated  master  of  arts.  I  am  not  ignorant,  that  for  the  attaining 
these  dignities  the  time  was  shorter  than  was  then.  <>r  is  now 
required  ;  but  either  his  birth,  or  the  well  performance  of  some 

1  Late  translation."]  Meaning  the  authorized  version  then  just  made,  and 
of  which  Dr.  Kilbie  was  one  of  the  authors.  He  was  one  of  the  seven  ( )\fnr<l 
divines  appointed  to  translate  the  four  greater  prophets,  with  the  Lamenta- 
tions and  the  twelve  lesser  prophets. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  419 

extraordinary  exercise,  or  some  other  merit,  made  him  so  :  and 
the  reader  is  requested  to  believe  that  it  was  the  last ;  and 
requested  to  believe  also,  that  if  I  be  mistaken  in  the  time,  the 
college  records  have  mis-informed  me  :  but  I  hope  they  have 
not. 

In  that  year  of  1608,  he  was  (November  the  7th,)  by  his  college 
chosen  reader  of  logic  in  the  house  ;  which  he  performed  so  well, 
that  he  was  chosen  again  the  sixth  of  November  1609.  In  the 
year  1613,  he  was  chosen  sub-rector  of  the  college,  and  the  like 
for  the  year  1614;  and  chosen  again  to  the  same  dignity  and 
trust  for  the  year  1616. 

In  all  which  time  and  employments,  his  abilities  and  behaviour 
were  such,  as  procured  him  both  love  and  reverence  from  the 
whole  society ;  there  being  no  exception  against  him  for  any 
faults,  but  a  sorrow  for  the  infirmities  of  his  being  too  timorous 
and  bashful,  both  which  were,  God  knows,  so  connatural,  as 
they  never  left  him.  And  I  know  not  whether  his  lovers  ought 
to  wish  they  had ;  for  they  proved  so  like  the  radical  moisture  in 
man's  body,  that  they  preserved  the  life  of  virtue  in  his  soul, 
which  by  God's  assisting  grace  never  left  him,  till  this  life  put  on 
immortality.  Of  which  happy  infirmities  (if  they  may  be  so 
called)  more  hereafter. 

In  the  year  1614,  he  stood  to  be  elected  one  of  the  proctors 
for  the  university.  And  it  was  not  to  satisfy  any  ambition  of  his 
own,  but  to  comply  with  the  desire  of  the  rector,  and  whole  society 
of  which  he  was  a  member,  who  had  not  had  a  proctor  chosen 
out  of  their  college  for  the  space  of  sixty  years  (namely  not  from 
the  year  1554,  unto  his  standing)  ;  and  they  persuaded  him,  that 
if  he  would  but  stand  for  proctor,  his  merits  were  so  generally 
known,  and  he  so  well  beloved,  that  it  was  but  appearing,  and 
he  would  infallibly  carry  it  against  any  opposers :  and  told  him, 
"  That  he  would  by  that  means  recover  a  right  or  reputation 
that  was  seemingly  dead  to  his  college."  By  these  and  other 
like  persuasions  he  yielded  up  his  own  reason  to  theirs,  and 
appeared  to  stand  for  proctor.  But  that  election  was  carried  on 
by  so  sudden  and  secret  and  by  so  powerful  a  faction,  that  he 
mist  it.  Which  when  he  understood,  he  professed  seriously  to 
his  friends,  "  That  if  he  were  troubled  at  the  disappointment,  it 
was  for  their,  and  not  for  his  own  sake  :  for  he  was  far  from  any 
desire  of  such  an  employment,  as  must  be  managed  with  charge 

E  e  2 


420  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

and  trouble,  and  was  too  usually  rewarded  with  hard  censures,  or 
hatred,  or  both." 

In  the  year  following  he  was  earnestly  persuaded  by  Dr.  Kilbie 
and  others,  to  renew  the  logic  lectures  which  he  had  read  for 
some  years  past  in  his  college  ;  and  that  done,  to  methodize  and 
print  them,  for  the  ease  and  public  good  of  posterity. 

And  though  he  had  an  averseness  to  appear  publicly  in  print, 
yet  after  many  serious  solicitations  and  some  second  thoughts  of 
his  own,  he  laid  aside  his  modesty,  and  promised  he  would  ;  and 
he  did  so  in  that  year  1615.  And  the  book  proved,  as  his 
friends  seemed  to  prophecy,  that  is,  of  great  and  general  use, 
whether  we  respect  the  art  or  the  author.  For  logic  may  be 
said  to  be  an  art  of  right  reasoning ;  an  art  that  undeceives  men, 
who  take  falsehood  for  truth ;  and  enables  men  to  pass  a  true 
judgment  and  detect  those  fallacies  which  in  some  men^s  under- 
standings usurp  the  place  of  right  reason.  And  how  great  a 
master  our  author  was  in  this  art,  may  easily  appear  from  that 
clearness  of  method,  argument,  and  demonstration,  which  is  so 
conspicuous  in  all  his  other  writings.  And  that  he  who  hail 
attained  to  so  great  a  dexterity  in  the  use  of  reason  himself,  was 
best  qualified  to  prescribe  rules  and  directions  for  the  instruction 
of  others.  And  I  am  the  more  satisfied  of  the  excellency  and 
usefulness  of  this  his  first  public  undertaking,  by  hearing,  that 
most  tutors  in  both  universities  teach  Dr.  Sanderson's  logic  to 
their  pupils,  as  a  foundation  upon  which  they  are  to  build  their 
future  studies  in  philosophy.  And  for  a  further  confirmation  of  my 
belief  the  reader  may  note,  that  since  this  his  book  of  logic  \\a< 
first  printed,  there  has  not  been  less  than  ten  thousand  sold  : 
and  that  it  is  like  to  continue  both  to  discover  truth  and  to  clear 
and  confirm  the  reason  of  the  unborn  world. 

It  will  easily  be  believed  that  his  former  standing  for  a 
proctors  place,  and  being  disappointed,  must  prove  much  dis- 
pleasing to  a  man  of  his  great  wisdom  and  modesty,  and  create 
in  him  an  averseness  to  run  a  second  hazard  of  his  credit  and 
content;  and  yet,  he  was  assured  by  Dr.  Kill>ie,  and  the  fellmvs 
of  his  own  college,  and  most  of  those  that  had  opposed  him  in 
the  former  election,  that  his  book  of  logic  had  purchased  for  him 
such  a  belief  of  his  learning  and  prudence,  and  his  behaviour  at 
the  former  election  had  got  for  him  so  great  and 
love,  that  all  his  former  opposers  ivjM-ntrd  \\hat  tin  \  had  done; 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  421 

and  therefore  persuaded  him  to  venture  to  stand  a  second  time. 
And  upon  these  and  other  like  encouragements,  he  did  again 
(but  not  without  an  inward  unwillingness,)  yield  up  his  own 
reason  to  theirs,  and  promised  to  stand.  And  he  did  so ;  and 
was  the  tenth  of  April,  1616,  chosen  senior  proctor  for  the  year 
following,  Mr.  Charles  Crook  of  Christ-Church  being  then  chosen 
the  junior. 

In  this  year  of  his  being  proctor  there  happened  many  memo- 
rable accidents,  part  of  which  I  will  relate.  Namely,  Dr.  Robert 
Abbot,  master  of  Baliol  college,  and  regius  professor  of  divinity 
(who  being  elected  or  consecrated  bishop  of  Sarum  some  months 
before)  was  solemnly  conducted  out  of  Oxford  towards  his  dio- 
cese, by  the  heads  of  all  houses,  and  the  other  chiefs  of  all  the 
university.  And  it  may  be  noted  that  Dr.  Prideaux  succeeded 
him  in  the  professorship,  in  which  he  continued  till  the  year  1 642, 
(being  then  elected  bishop  of  Worcester)  at  which  time  our  now 
proctor  Mr.  Sanderson,  succeeded  him  in  the  regius  professor- 
ship. 

And  in  this  year  Dr.  Arthur  Lake  (then  warden  of  New  Col- 
lege) was  advanced  to  the  bishopric  of  Bath  and  Wells :  a  man 
of  whom  I  take  myself  bound  in  justice  to  say,  that  he  made  the 
great  trust  committed  to  him,  the  chief  care  and  whole  business 
of  his  life.  And  one  testimony  of  this  truth  may  be,  that  he  sate 
usually  with  his  chancellor  in  his  consistory,  and  at  least  advised,  if 
not  assisted  in  most  sentences  for  the  punishing  of  such  offenders 
as  deserved  church  censures.  And  it  may  be  noted,  that  after  a 
sentence  for  penance  was  pronounced,  he  did  very  rarely  or  never, 
allow  of  any  commutation  for  the  offence,  but  did  usually  see  the 
sentence  for  penance  executed  ;  and  then,  as  usually  preached  a 
sermon  of  mortification  and  repentance,  and  did  so  apply  them  to 
the  offenders,  that  then  stood  before  him,  as  begot  in  them,  then, 
a  devout  contrition,  and  at  least  resolutions  to  amend  their  lives ; 
and  having  done  that,  he  would  take  them  (though  never  so  poor) 
to  dinner  with  him,  and  use  them  friendly,  and  dismiss  them  with 
his  blessing,  and  persuasions  to  a  virtuous  life,  and  beg  them  for 
their  own  sakes  to  believe  him.  And  his  humility,  and  charity,  and 
all  other  Christian  excellencies  were  all  like  this.  Of  all  which 
the  reader  may  inform  himself  in  his  life,  truly  writ  and  printed 
before  his  exceUent  sermons. 

And  in  this  year  also,  the  very  prudent  and  very  wise  lord 
Elsmere,  who  was  so  very  long  lord  chancellor  of  England,  and 


422  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

then  of  Oxford,  resigning  up  the  last,  the  right  honourable,  and 
magnificent,  William  Herbert  earl  of  Pembroke,  was  chosen  to 
succeed  him. 

And  in  this  year,  our  late  king  Charles  the  first  (then  prince  of 
Wales)  came  honourably  attended  to  Oxford  ;  and  having  deli- 
berately visited  the  university,  the  schools,  colleges,  and  libraries, 
he  and  his  attendants  were  entertained  with  ceremonies  and  feast- 
ing suitable  to  their  dignity  and  merits. 

And  in  this  year  king  James  sent  letters  *  to  the  university  for 
the  regulating  their  studies :  especially  of  the  young  divines  ; 
advising  they  should  not  rely  on  modern  sums  and  systems,  but 
study  the  fathers  and  councils,  and  the  more  primitive  learning. 
And  this  advice  was  occasioned  by  the  indiscreet  inferences  made 
by  very  many  preachers  out  of  Mr.  Calvin's  doctrine  concerning 
predestination,  universal  redemption,  the  irresistibility  of  God's 
grace,  and  of  some  other  knotty  points  depending  upon  these ; 
points  which  many  think  were  not,  but  by  interpreters  were  forced 
to  be  Mr.  Calvin's  meaning ;  of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  which  T 
pretend  not  to  have  an  ability  to  judge  ;  my  meaning  in  this  rela- 
tion being  only  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  the  occasion  of  the 
king's  letter. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  the  various  accidents  of  this  year  did 
afford  our  proctor  large  and  laudable  matter  to  dilate  and  discourse 
upon ;  and,  that  though  his  office  seemed,  according  to  statute  and 
custom,  to  require  him  to  do  so  at  his  leaving  it ;  yet  he  chose 
rather  to  pass  them  over  with  some  very  short  observations,  and 
present  the  governors,  and  his  other  hearers,  with  rules  to  keep 
up  discipline  and  order  in  the  university  ;  which  at  that  time  was 
either  by  defective  statutes,  or  want  of  the  due  execution  of  those 
that  were  good,  grown  to  be  extremely  irregular.  And  in  this 
year  also,  the  magisterial  part  of  the  proctor  required  more  dili- 
gence, and  was  more  difficult  to  be  managed  than  formerly,  by 
reason  of  a  multiplicity  of  new  statutes,  which  begot  much  con- 
fusion ;  some  of  which  statutes  were  then  and  not  till  then,  and 
others  suddenly  after,  put  into  an  useful  execution.  And  though 
these  statutes  were  not  then  made  so  perfectly  useful,  as  they 
were  designed,  till  archbishop  Laud's  time  (who  assisted  in  the 
forming  and  promoting  them)  yet,  our  present  proctor  madetlu-in 
as  effectual  as  discretion  and  diligence  could  do.  Of  \\liicli  one 

4  Sent  letters.']  See  above,  the  Life  of  Donne,  vol.  iii.  i>p.  661-2;  and  Life 
r>f  Hammond,  p.  334,  note. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  423 

example  may  seem  worthy  the  noting,  namely,  that  if  in  his  night- 
walk  he  met  with  irregular  scholars  absent  from  their  colleges  at 
university  hours,  or  disordered  by  drink,  or  in  scandalous  com- 
pany, he  did  not  use  his  power  of  punishing  to  an  extremity ;  but 
did  usually  take  their  names,  and  a  promise  to  appear  before  him 
unsent  for  next  morning :  and  when  they  did,  convinced  them 
with  such  obligingness,  and  reason  added  to  it,  that  they  parted 
from  him  with  such  resolutions  as  the  man  after  God's  own  heart 
was  possessed  with,  when  he  said  to  God,  There  is  mercy  with 
thee,  and  therefore  thou  shalt  be  feared.  (Psal.  cxxx.)  And  by 
this,  and  a  like  behaviour  to  all  men,  he  was  so  happy  as  to  lay 
down  this  dangerous  employment,  as  but  very  few,  if  any  have 
done,  even  without  an  enemy. 

After  his  proctor's  speech  was  ended,  and  he  retired  with  a 
friend  into  a  convenient  privacy  ;  he  looked  upon  his  friend  with 
a  more  than  common  cheerfulness,  and  spake  to  him  to  this  pur- 
pose. "  I  look  back  upon  my  late  employment  with  some  content 
to  myself,  and  a  great  thankfulness  to  Almighty  God,  that  he 
hath  made  me  of  a  temper  not  apt  to  provoke  the  meanest  of 
mankind,  but  rather  to  pass  by  infirmities,  if  noted ;  and  in  this 
employment  I  have  had  (God  knows)  many  occasions  to  do  both. 
And  when  I  consider  how  many  of  a  contrary  temper,  are  by 
sudden  and  small  occasions  transported,  and  hurried  by  anger  to 
commit  such  errors,  as  they  in  that  passion  could  not  foresee, 
and  will  in  their  more  calm  and  deliberate  thoughts  upbraid,  and 
require  repentance  ;  and  consider,  that  though  repentance  secures 
us  from  the  punishment  of  any  sin,  yet  how  much  more  comfort- 
able it  is  to  be  innocent,  than  need  pardon ;  and  consider,  that 
errors  against  men,  though  pardoned  both  by  God  and  them,  do 
yet  leave  such  anxious  and  upbraiding  impressions  in  the  memory, 
as  abate  of  the  offender's  content :  when  I  consider  all  this,  and 
that  God  hath  of  his  goodness  given  me  a  temper,  that  he  hath 
prevented  me  from  running  into  such  enormities,  I  remember  my 
temper  with  joy  and  thankfulness.  And  though  I  cannot  say 
with  David  (I  wish  I  could)  that  therefore  Ms  praise  shall  always 
be  in  my  mouth  (Psalm  cxxx.)  ;  yet  I  hope,  that  by  his  grace,  and 
that  grace  seconded  by  my  endeavours,  it  shall  never  be  blotted 
out  of  my  memory ;  and  I  now  beseech  Almighty  God  that  it 
never  may." 

And  here  I  must  look  back>  and  mention  one  passage  more  in 
his  proctorship,  which  is;  that  Gilbert  Sheldon,  the  late  lord 


424  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  this  year  sent  to  Trinity  college  in 
that  university ;  and  not  long  after  his  entrance  there,  a  letter 
was  sent  after  him  from  his  god-father  (the  father  of  our  proctor) 
to  let  his  son  know  it,  and  commend  his  god-son  to  his  acquaint- 
ance, and  to  a  more  than  common  care  of  his  behaviour ;  which 
proved  a  pleasing  injunction  to  our  proctor,  who  was  so  gladly 
obedient  to  his  father's  desire,  that  he  some  few  days  after  sent 
his  servitor  to  intreat  Mr.  Sheldon  to  his  chamber  next  morning. 
But  it  seems  Mr.  Sheldon  having  (like  a  young  man  as  he  was) 
run  into  some  such  irregularity  as  made  him  conscious  he  had 
transgressed  his  statutes,  did  therefore  apprehend  the  proctor's  in- 
vitation as  an  introduction  to  punishment ;  the  fear  of  which  made 
his  bed  restless  that  night ;  but  at  their  meeting  the  next  morn- 
ing, that  fear  vanished  immediately  by  the  proctor's  chearful  coun- 
tenance, and  the  freedom  of  their  discourse  of  friends.  And  let 
me  tell  my  reader,  that  this  first  meeting  proved  the  beginning  of 
as  spiritual  a  friendship  as  human  nature  is  capable  of:  of  a 
friendship  free  from  all  self-ends :  and  it  continued  to  be  so,  till 
death  forced  a  separation  of  it  on  earth ;  but  it  is  now  reunited  in 
heaven. 

And  now,  having  given  this  account  of  his  behaviour,  and  the 
considerable  accidents  in  his  proctorship,  I  proceed  to  tell  my 
reader,  that  this  busy  employment  being  ended,  he  preached  his 
sermon  for  his  degree  of  bachelor  in  divinity,  in  an  elegant  Latin, 
and  as  remarkable  for  the  method  and  matter,  as  hath  been 
preached  in  that  university  since  that  day.  And  having  well  per- 
formed his  other  exercises  for  that  degree,  he  took  it  the  nine  and 
twentieth  of  May  following,  having  been  ordained  deacon  and 
priest  in  the  year  1611,  by  John  King,  then  Bishop  of  London, 
who  had  not  long  before  been  dean  of  Christ-church,  and  then 
knew  him  so  well,  that  he  owned  it  at  his  ordination,  and  became 
his  most  affectionate  friend.  And  in  this  year,  being  about  the 
29th  of  his  age,  he  took  from  the  university  a  license  to  preach. 

In  the  year  1618,  he  was  by  sir  Nicholas  Sanderson,  lord  vis- 
count Castleton,  presented  to  the  rectory  of  Wibberton,  not  far 
from  Boston  in  the  county  of  Lincoln,  a  living  of  very  good  value ; 
but  it  lay  in  so  low  and  wet  a  part  of  that  country,  as  was  incon- 
sistent with  his  health.  And  health  being  (next  to  a  good  con- 
science) the  greatest  of  God's  blessings  in  this  life,  and  requiring 
therefore  of  every  man  a  care  and  diligence  to  preserve  it ;  and 
he,  apprehending  a  danger  of  losing  it,  if  he  continued  at  Wib- 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  425 

berton  a  second  winter,  did  therefore  resign  it  back  into  the  hands 
of  his  worthy  kinsman  and  patron,  about  one  year  after  his  dona- 
tion of  it  to  him. 

And  about  this  time  of  his  resignation  he  was  presented  to  the 
rectory  of  Boothby  Pannel  in  the  same  county  of  Lincoln ;  a 
town  which  has  been  made  famous,  and  must  continue  to  be 
famous,  because  Dr.  Sanderson,  the  humble  and  learned  Dr. 
Sanderson,  was  more  than  forty  years  parson  of  Boothby  Pannel, 
and  from  thence  dated  all  or  most  of  his  matchless  writings. 

To  this  living  (which  was  of  less  value,  but  a  purer  air  than 
Wibberton)  he  was  presented  by  Thomas  Harrington  of  the  same 
county  and  parish,  esq. ;  a  gentleman  of  a  very  ancient  family, 
and  of  great  use  and  esteem  in  his  country  during  his  whole  life. 
And  in  this  Boothby  Pannel  the  meek  and  charitable  Dr.  Sander- 
son and  his  patron  lived  with  an  endearing,  mutual,  and  comfort- 
able friendship,  till  the  death  of  the  last  put  a  period  to  it. 

About  the  time  that  he  was  made  parson  of  Boothby  Pannel, 
he  resigned  his  fellowship  of  Lincoln  college  unto  the  then  rector 
and  fellows ;  and  his  resignation  is  recorded  in  these  words. 

"  Ego  Robertus  Sanderson  per,  &c. 

"  I  Robert  Sanderson,  fellow  of  the  college  of  St.  Mary's  and 
All-Saints,  commonly  called  Lincoln  college,  in  the  university  of 
Oxford,  do  freely  and  willingly  resign  into  the  hands  of  the  rector 
and  fellows,  all  the  right  and  title  that  I  have  in  the  said  college, 
wishing  to  them  and  their  successors,  all  peace,  and  piety,  and 
happiness,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Amen. 

"  ROBERT  SANDERSON." 

"May  6,  1619." 

And  not  long  after  this  resignation,  he  was  by  the  then  bishop 
of  York,  (or  the  king,  sede  vacante)  made  prebend  of  the  colle- 
giate church  of  Southwell 5  in  that  diocese ;  and  shortly  after  of 
Lincoln  by  the  bishop  of  that  see. 

And  being  now  resolved  to  set  down  his  rest  in  a  quiet  privacy 
at  Boothby  Pannel,  and  looking  back  with  some  sadness  upon  his 
removal  from  his  general  and  cheerful  acquaintance  left  in  Oxford, 
and  the  peculiar  pleasures  of  a  university  life,  he  could  not  but 

5  Southwell.']  See  Life  ofWolsey,  vol.  i.  p.  625,  note. 


426  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

think  the  want  of  society  would  render  this  of  a  country  parson 
still  more  uncomfortable,  by  reason  of  that  want  of  conversation ; 
and  therefore  he  did  put  on  some  faint  purposes  to  marry.  For 
he  had  considered  that  though  marriage  be  cumbered  with  more 
worldly  care  than  a  single  life ;  yet  a  complying  and  prudent  wife 
changes  those  very  cares  into  so  mutual  joys,  as  makes  them 
become  like  the  sufferings  of  St.  Paul,  which  he  would  not  have 
wanted,  (Colos.  i.  24,)  because  they  occasioned  Ms  rejoicing  in 
tlwm.  And  he  having  well  considered  this,  and  observed  the 
secret  unutterable  joys  that  children  beget  in  parents,  and  the 
mutual  pleasures  and  contented  trouble  of  their  daily  care  and 
constant  endeavours  to  bring  up  those  little  images  of  themselves, 
so  as  to  make  them  as  happy  as  all  those  cares  and  endeavours  can 
make  them :  he,  having  considered  all  this,  the  hopes  of  such 
happiness  turned  his  faint  purpose  into  a  positive  resolution  to 
marry.  And  he  was  so  happy  as  to  obtain  Anne,  the  daughter 
of  Henry  Nelson,  bachelor  in  divinity,  then  rector  of  Haugham 
in  the  county  of  Lincoln  (a  man  of  noted  worth  and  learning). 
And  the  Giver  of  all  good  things  was  so  good  to  him,  as  to  give 
him  such  a  wife  as  was  suitable  to  his  own  desires :  a  wife,  that 
made  his  life  happy  by  being  always  content  when  he  was  cheerful ; 
that  was  always  cheerful  when  he  was  content ;  that  divided  her 
joys  with  him,  and  abated  of  his  sorrow,  by  bearing  a  part 
of  that  burthen ;  a  wife,  that  demonstrated  her  affection  by  a 
cheerful  obedience  to  all  his  desires,  during  the  whole  course  of 
his  life ;  and  at  his  death  too  ;  for  she  out-lived  him. 

And  in  this  Boothby  Pannel  he  either  found  or  made  his 
parishioners  peaceable,  and  complying  with  him  in  the  constant, 
decent,  and  regular  service  of  God.  And  thus  his  parish,  his 
patron  and  he  lived  together  in  a  religious  love,  and  a  contented 
quietness :  he  not  troubling  their  thoughts  by  preaching  high  and 
useless  notions,  but  such,  and  only  such  plain  truths  as  were 
necessary  to  be  known,  believed,  and  practised  in  order  to  the 
honour  of  God  and  their  own  salvation.  And  their  assent  to 
what  he  taught  was  testified  by  such  a  conformity  to  his  doctrine, 
as  declared  they  believed  and  loved  him.  For  it  may  be  noted 
he  would  often  say.  "That  without  the  last,  the  most  e\ident 
truths  (heard  as  from  an  enemy,  or  an  evil  liver)  either  are  not. 
(or  are  at  least  the  less)  effectual ;  and  usually  rather  hai •« 
than  corn-hire  the  hearer." 

And  this  excellent  man  did  not  think   \\\>  duty   discharged  by 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  427 

only  reading  the  Church-prayers,  catechizing,  preaching,  and 
administring  the  sacraments  seasonably ;  but  thought  (if  the  law, 
or  the  canons  may  seem  to  injoin  no  more,  yet)  that  God  would 
require  more  than  the  defective  laws  of  man's  making,  can  or  do 
enjoin ;  even  the  performance  of  that  inward  law,  which  Almighty 
God  hath  imprinted  in  the  conscience  of  all  good  Christians,  and 
inclines  those  whom  he  loves  to  perform.  He  considering  this, 
did  therefore  become  a  law  to  himself,  practising  not  only  what 
the  law  enjoins,  but  what  his  conscience  told  him  was  his  duty, 
in  reconciling  differences,  and  preventing  law-suits,  both  in  his 
parish  and  in  the  neighbourhood.  To  which  may  be  added  his 
often  visiting  sick  and  disconsolate  families,  persuading  them  to 
patience,  and  raising  them  from  dejection  by  his  advice  and 
cheerful  discourse,  and  by  adding  his  own  alms,  if  there  were 
any  so  poor  as  to  need  it ;  considering  how  acceptable  it  is  to 
Almighty  God,  when  we  do  as  we  are  advised  by  St.  Paul, 
(Gal.  vi.  2,)  help  to  bear  one  another's  burthen,  either  of  sorrow  or 
want :  and  what  a  comfort  it  will  be,  when  the  Searcher  of  all 
hearts  shall  call  us  to  a  strict  account  as  well  for  that  evil  we  have 
done,  as  the  good  we  have  omitted,  to  remember  we  have  com- 
forted and  been  helpful  to  a  dejected  or  distressed  family. 

And  that  his  practice  was  to  do  good  the  following  narrative 
may  be  one  example.  He  met  with  a  poor  dejected  neighbour 
that  complained  he  had  taken  a  meadow,  the  rent  of  which  was 
91.  a  year ;  and  when  the  hay  was  made  ready  to  be  carried  into 
his  barn,  several  days  constant  rain  had  so  raised  the  water,  that 
a  sudden  flood  carried  all  away,  and  his  rich  landlord  would  abate 
him  no  rent ;  and  that  unless  he  had  half  abated,  he  and  seven 
children  were  utterly  undone.  It  may  be  noted,  that  in  this  age 
there  are  a  sort  of  people  so  unlike  the  God  of  mercy,  so  void  of 
the  bowels  of  pity,  that  they  love  only  themselves  and  children ; 
love  them  so,  as  not  to  be  concerned,  whether  the  rest  of  man- 
kind waste  their  days  in  sorrow  or  shame ;  people  that  are  curst 
with  riches,  and  a  mistake  that  nothing  but  riches  can  make 
them  and  theirs  happy.  But  it  was  not  so  with  Dr.  Sanderson ; 
for  he  was  concerned,  and  spoke  comfortably  to  the  poor  dejected 
man ;  bade  him  go  home  and  pray ;  and  not  load  himself  with 
sorrow,  for  he  would  go  to  his  landlord  next  morning,  and  if  his 
landlord  would  not  abate  what  he  desired,  he  and  a  friend  would 
pay  it  for  him. 


428  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

To  the  landlord  he  went  next  day ;  and  in  a  conference  the 
doctor  presented  to  him  the  sad  condition  of  his  poor  dejected 
tenant ;  telling  him  how  much  God  is  pleased  when  men  compas- 
sionate the  poor  :  and  told  him,  that  though  God  loves  sacrifice, 
yet  he  loves  mercy  so  much  better,  that  he  is  best  pleased  when 
he  is  called  the  God  of  mercy :  and  told  him  the  riches  he  was 
possessed  of  were  given  him  by  that  God  of  mercy,  who  would 
not  be  pleased,  if  he  that  had  so  much  given,  yea,  and  forgiven 
him  too,  should  prove  like  the  rich  steward  in  the  Gospel,  that 
took  his  fellow  servant  by  the  throat  to  make  him  pay  the  utmost 
farthing.  This  he  told  him.  And  told  him,  that  the  law  of  this 
nation  (by  which  law  he  claims  his  rent)  does  not  undertake  to 
make  men  honest  or  merciful  (that  was  too  nice  an  undertaking)  ; 
but  does  what  it  can  to  restrain  men  from  being  dishonest  or 
unmerciful;  and  yet  that  our  law  was  defective  in  both:  and 
that  taking  any  rent  from  his  poor  tenant,  for  what  God  suffered 
him  not  to  enjoy,  though  the  law  allowed  him  to  do  so,  yet  if  he 
did  so,  he  was  too  like  that  rich  steward  which  he  had  mentioned 
to  him ;  and  told  him,  that  riches  so  gotten,  and  added  to  his 
great  estate,  would,  as  Job  says,  prove  like  gravel  in  his  teeth ; 
would  in  time  so  corrode  his  conscience,  or  become  so  nauseous 
when  he  lay  upon  his  death-bed,  that  he  would  then  labour  to 
vomit  it  up,  and  not  be  able ;  and  therefore  advised  him  (being 
very  rich,)  to  make  friends  of  his  unrighteous  mammon,  before  that 
evil  day  come  upon  him :  but  however,  neither  for  his  own  sake, 
nor  for  God's  sake,  to  take  any  rent  of  his  poor  dejected  sad 
tenant,  for  that  were  to  gain  a  temporal,  and  lose  his  eternal 
happiness.  These  and  other  such  reasons  were  urged  with  so 
grave  and  so  compassionate  an  earnestness,  that  the  landlord 
forgave  his  tenant  the  whole  rent. 

The  reader  will  easily  believe  that  Dr.  Sanderson,  who  \vas 
himself  so  meek  and  merciful,  did  suddenly  and  gladly  carry  this 
comfortable  news  to  the  dejected  tenant ;  and  will  believe  also, 
that  at  the  telling  of  it  there  was  a  mutual  rejoicing.  It  was 
one  of  Job's  boasts,  that  he  had  seen  none  perish  for  want  of 
cloathing :  and  that  he  had  often  made  the  Iwart  of  the  widow  to 
rejoice.  (Job  xxxi.)  And  doubtless  Dr.  Sanderson  might  have 
made  the  same  religious  boast  of  this,  and  very  many  like  occa- 
sions: but  since  he  did  not,  I  rejoice  that  I  have  this  just 
occasion  to  do  it  for  him;  and  that  I  can  tell  the  reader. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  429 

I  might  tire  myself  and  him  in  telling  how  like  the  whole 
course  of  Dr.  Sanderson's  life  was  to  this  which  I  have  now 
related. 

Thus  he  went  on  in  an  obscure  and  quiet  privacy,  doing 
good  daily  both  by  word  and  by  deed,  as  often  as  any  occasion 
offered  itself;  yet  not  so  obscurely,  but  that  his  very  great 
learning,  prudence  and  piety  were  much  noted  and  valued  by  the 
bishop  of  his  diocese,  and  by  most  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of 
that  country.  By  the  first  of  which  he  was  often  summoned  to 
preach  many  visitation  sermons,  and  by  the  latter  at  many  assizes. 
Which  sermons,  though  they  were  much  esteemed  by  them  that 
procured  and  were  fit  to  judge  them ;  yet  they  were  the  less 
valued,  because  he  read  them,  which  he  was  forced  to  do ;  for 
though  he  had  an  extraordinary  memory  (even  the  art  of  it)  yet 
he  was  punished  with  such  an  innate,  invincible  fear  and  bashful- 
ness,  that  his  memory  was  wholly  useless,  as  to  the  repetition  of 
his  sermons,  so  as  he  had  writ  them ;  which  gave  occasion  to  say, 
when  some  of  them  were  first  printed  and  exposed  to  censure, 
(which  was  in  the  year  1632)  "  That  the  best  sermons  that  were 
ever  read,  were  never  preached." 

In  this  contented  obscurity  he  continued,  till  the  learned  and 
pious  archbishop  Laud,  who  knew  him  well  in  Oxford  (for  he 
was  his  contemporary  there)  told  the  king  (it  was  the  knowing 
and  conscientious  king  Charles  the  I.)  that  there  was  one  Mr. 
Sanderson,  an  obscure  country  minister,  that  was  of  such  sin- 
cerity, and  so  excellent  in  all  casuistical  learning,  that  he  desired 
his  majesty  would  take  so  much  notice  of  him  as  to  make  him 
his  chaplain.  The  king  granted  it  most  willingly,  and  gave  the 
bishop  charge  to  hasten  it,  for  he  longed  to  discourse  with  a  man 
that  had  dedicated  his  studies  to  that  useful  part  of  learning. 
The  bishop  forgot  not  the  king's  desire,  and  Mr.  Sanderson  was 
made  his  chaplain  in  ordinary  in  November  following  (1631). 
And  when  the  king  and  he  became  better  known  to  each  other, 
then,  as  it  is  said,  that  after  many  hard  questions  put  to  the 
prophet  Daniel,  king  Darius  found  (Dan.  vi.)  an  excellent  spirit  in 
him ;  so  it  was  with  Mr.  Sanderson  and  our  excellent  king ;  who 
having  put  many  cases  of  conscience  to  him,  received  from  Mr. 
Sanderson  such  deliberate,  safe,  and  clear  solutions,  as  gave  him 
so  great  content,  in  conversing  with  him,  (which  he  did  several 
times  in  private,)  that  at  the  end  of  his  month's  attendance  the 
king  told  him ;  "  He  should  long  for  the  next  November ;  for  he 


430  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

resolved  to  have  a  more  inward  acquaintance  with  him,  when 
that  month  and  he  returned."  And  when  the  month  and  he  did 
return,  the  good  king  was  never  absent  from  his  sermons,  and 
would  usually  say,  "  I  carry  my  ears  to  hear  other  preachers,  but 
I  carry  my  conscience  to  hear  Mr.  Sanderson,  and  to  act  accord- 
ingly." And  this  ought  not  to  be  concealed  from  posterity,  that 
the  king  thought  what  he  spake :  for  he  took  him  to  be  his  ad- 
viser in  that  quiet  part  of  his  life ;  and  he  proved  to  be  his  com- 
forter in  those  days  of  his  affliction,  when  he  was  under  such  a 
restraint  as  he  apprehended  himself  to  be  in  danger  of  death  or 
deposing.  Of  which  more  hereafter. 

In  the  first  parliament  of  this  good  king  (which  was  1625)  he 
was  chosen  to  be  a  clerk  of  the  convocation  for  the  diocese  of 
Lincoln,  which  I  here  mention,  because  about  that  time  did  arise 
many  disputes  about  predestination,  and  the  many  critical  points 
that  depend  upon,  or  are  interwoven  in  it ;  occasioned,  as 
said,  by  a  disquisition  of  new  principles  of  Mr.  Calvin's  (though 
others  say  they  were  long  before  his  time).  But  of  these  Dr. 
Sanderson  then  drew  up  for  his  own  satisfaction "  such  a  scheme 

6  His  own  satisfaction.']  We  possess  from  the  bishop's  own  pen,  in  a 
letter  to  the  rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  a  narrative  of  the  change  which  took  place 
in  his  sentiments  at  this  period ;  and  of  the  commencement  and  foundation 
of  his  theological  studies  about  eighteen  years  before,  too  important  to  be 
omitted  here. 

"  When  I  began  to  set  myself  to  the  study  of  divinity  as  my  proper  busi- 
ness, which  was  after  I  had  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  being  then  nearly 
twenty  one  years  of  age,  the  first  thing  I  thought  fit  for  me  to  do,  was  to 
consider  well  of  the  articles  of  the  church  of  England,  which  I  had  formerly 
read  over,  twice  or  thrice,  and  whereunto  I  had  subscribed.  And  because  I 
had  then  met  with  some  puritanical  pamphlets  written  against  the  liturgy  and 
ceremonies,  although  most  of  the  arguments  therein  were  such  as  needed  no 
great  skill  to  give  satisfactory  answers  unto,  yet  for  my  fuller  satisfaction  (the 
question  being  de  rebus  agendis,  and  so  the  more  suitable  to  my  proper  incli- 
nation) I  read  over,  with  great  diligence  and  no  less  delight,  that  excellent 
piece  of  learned  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity.  And  I  have  great  cause  to 
bless  God  for  it,  that  so  I  did,  not  only  for  that  it  much  both  cleared  and 
settled  my  judgment  for  ever  after  in  many  very  weighty  points  (as  of 
Scandal,  Christian  Liberty,  Obligation  of  Laws,  Obedience,  &c.)  but  that  it 
also  proved  (by  his  good  providence)  a  good  preparative  to  me  (that  I  say 
not  antidote)  for  the  reading  of  Calvin's  Institutions  with  more  caution,  than 
perhaps  otherwise  I  should  have  done.  For  that  book  was  commended  to 
me,  as  it  was  generally  to  all  young  scholars  in  those  times,  as  the  best  and 
perfectest  system  of  divinity,  and  fittest  to  be  laid  as  a  ground-work  in  the 
study  of  that  profession.  And  indeed,  being  so  prepared  as  is  said,  my 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  431 

(he  called  it  Pax  Ecclesice)  as  then  gave  himself,  and  hath  since 
given  others  such  satisfaction,  that  it  still  remains  to  be  of  great 

expectation  was  not  at  all  deceived  in  the  reading  of  those  institutions.  I 
found,  so  far  as  I  was  then  able  to  judge,  the  method  exact,  the  expressions 
clear,  the  stile  grave  and  unaffected ;  his  doctrine  for  the  most  part  conform 
to  St.  Augustin's ;  in  a  word,  the  whole  work  very  elaborate,  and  useful  to 
the  churches  of  God  in  a  good  measure ;  and  might  have  been,  I  verily 
believe,  much  more  useful,  if  the  honour  of  his  name  had  not  given  so  much 
reputation  to  his  very  errors.  I  must  acknowledge  myself  to  have  reaped 
great  benefit  by  the  reading  thereof.  But  as  for  the  questions  of  Election, 
Reprobation,  Effectual  Grace,  Perseverance,  &c.  I  took  as  little  notice  of 
the  two  first,  as  of  any  other  thing  contained  in  the  book ;  both  because  I 
was  always  afraid  to  pry  much  into  those  secrets,  and  because  I  could  not 
certainly  inform  myself  from  his  own  writings,  whether  he  were  a  Supra- 
lapsarian,  as  most  speak  him,  and  he  seemeth  often  to  incline  much  that 
way,  or  a  Sub-lapsarian,  as  sundry  passages  in  the  book  seem  to  import. 
But  giving  myself  mostly  still  to  the  study  of  moral  divinity,  and  taking 
most  other  things  upon  trust,  as  they  were  in  a  manner  generally  taught, 
both  in  the  schools  and  pulpits  in  both  universities,  I  did  for  many  years 
together  acquiesce,  without  troubling  myself  any  further  about  them,  in  the 
more  commonly  received  opinions  concerning  both  these  two,  and  the  other 
points  depending  thereupon :  yet  in  the  Sub-lapsarian  way  ever,  which 
seemed  to  me  of  the  two  the  more  moderate,  rational  and  agreeable  to  the 
goodness  and  justice  of  God  :  for  the  rigid  Supra-lapsarian  doctrine  could 
never  find  any  entertainment  in  my  thoughts,  from  first  to  last. 

"  But  in  1625  a  parliament  being  called,  wherein  I  was  chosen  one  of  the 
clerks  of  the  convocation  for  the  diocese  of  Lincoln,  during  the  continuance 
of  that  parliament,  which  was  about  four  months,  as  I  remember,  there  was 
some  expectation  that  those  Arminian  points,  the  only  questions  almost  in 
agitation  at  that  time,  should  have  been  debated  by  the  clergy  in  the  con- 
vocation. Which  occasioned  me,  as  it  did  sundry  others,  being  then  at  some 
leisure,  to  endeavour  by  study  and  conference  to  inform  myself,  as  tho- 
roughly and  exactly  in  the  state  of  those  controversies,  as  I  could  have 
opportunity,  and  my  wit  could  serve  me  for  it.  In  order  whereunto,  I  made  it 
my  first  business  to  take  a  survey  of  the  several  different  opinions  concerning 
the  ordering  of  God's  decrees,  as  to  the  salvation  or  damnation  of  men  :  not 
as  they  are  supposed  to  be  really  in  mente  divind,  (for  all  his  decrees  are 
eternal,  and  therefore  coeternal,  and  therefore  no  priority  or  posteriority 
among  them,)  but  quoad  nostrum  intelligendi  modum,  because  we  cannot 
conceive  or  speak  of  the  things  of  God,  but  in  a  way  suitable  to  our  own 
finite  condition  and  understanding;  even  as  God  himself  hath  been  pleased 
to  reveal  himself  to  us  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  by  the  like  suitable  conde- 
scensions and  accommodations.  Which  opinions,  the  better  to  represent 
their  differences  to  the  eye  uno  quasi  intuitu,  for  their  more  easy  conveying  to 
the  understanding  by  that  means,  and  the  avoiding  of  confusion  and  tedious 
discoursings,  I  reduced  into  five  schemes  or  tables,  much  after  the  manner 
as  I  had  used  to  draw  pedigrees,  (a  thing  which  I  think  you  know  I  have 


432  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

estimation.  He  was  also  chosen  clerk  of  all  the  convocations 
during  that  good  king's  reign.  Which  I  here  tell  my  reader, 
because  I  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to  mention  that  convoca- 
tion in  1640,  that  unhappy  long  parliament  and  some  debates  of 
the  predestinarian  points,  as  they  have  been  since  charitably 
handled  betwixt  him,  the  learned  Dr.  Hammond,  and  Dr.  Pierce, 
the  now  reverend  dean  of  Salisbury.  And  here  the  reader  may 
note,  that  in  letters  writ  to  the  said  dean,  Dr.  Sanderson  seems 
to  have  altered  his  judgment  in  some  points,  since  he  writ  his 
scheme  called  Pax  Ecclesice ;  which  he  seems  to  say  also  in  his 
last  will,  besides  other  reasons  to  think  so. 

In  the  year  1636,  his  majesty  then  in  his  progress  took  a  fair 
occasion  to  visit  Oxford,  and  to  take  an  entertainment  for  two 
days  for  himself  and  his  honourable  attendants,  which  the  reader 
ought  to  believe  was  suitable  to  their  dignities :  but,  this  is  men- 
tioned, because  at  the  king's  coming  thither,  May  3,  Sanderson 
did  then  attend  him ;  and  was  then  (the  31  of  August)  created 
doctor  of  divinity ;  which  honour  had  an  addition  to  it,  by  having 

very  much  fancied,  as  to  me  of  all  others  the  most  delightful  recreation) ;  of 
which  scheme,  some  special  friends  to  whom  I  shewed  them,  desired  copies  : 
who,  as  it  seemeth,  valuing  them  more  than  I  did,  (for  divers  men  have 
copies  of  them,  as  I  hear,  but  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  any  such  myself) 
communicated  them  farther,  and  so  they  are  come  into  many  hands.  These 
are  they  which  doctor  Reynolds,  in  his  Epistle  prefixed  to  master  Barlee's 
Correptory  Correction,  had  taken  notice  of.  Having  all  these  schemes  before 
my  eyes  at  once,  so  as  I  might  with  ease  compare  them  one  with  another, 
and  having  considered  of  the  conveniences  and  inconveniences  of  each,  as 
well  as  I  could,  I  soon  discerned  a  necessity  of  quitting  the  Sub-lapsarian 
way,  of  which  I  had  a  better  liking  before,  as  well  as  the  Supra-lapsarian, 
which  I  could  never  fancy."  Dr.  Hammond's  Pacific  Discourse  of  God's 
Grace  and  Decrees,  A.D.  1660.  Hammond's  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  669.  It  may 
be  worth  observing  that  this  collection  of  schemes  or  tables  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  tract  published  by  Isaac  Walton  under  the  title  Pax 
Ecclesia,  which  Walton  attributes  to  the  year  1625.  In  that  tract  it  is  plain, 
that  he  still  retains  the  Sub-lupsarian  opinion  :  and  there  are  other  reasons  to 
prove  that  the  tracts  are  not  the  same.  In  truth,  the  Pax  Ecclesite  can  hardly 
be  considered  as  the  work  of  Dr.  Sanderson  at  all.  For  Dr.  Hammond  thus 
speaks  of  it  in  his  Preface  to  the  Pacific  Discourse  above  cited.  "  It  sei-nu ••! 
not  improper  at  this  time,  to  offer  to  public  view  the  present  sentiments  of 
the  judicious  Dr.  Sanderson,  the  regius  professor  of  the  university  of  ( ).\- 
ford,  and  the  rather,  because  some  manuscript  tables  of  his  former  thoughts, 
and  some  passages  from  his  sermons,  long  since  preached,  and  now  repub- 
lished,  have  been  made  use  of  to  gain  authority  to  those  doctrines  which  he 
is  now  far  from  owning." 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  433 

many  of  the  nobility  of  this  nation  then  made  doctors  and  mas- 
ters of  arts  with  him :  some  of  whose  names  shall  be  recorded 
and  live  with  his  (and  none  shall  out-live  it).  First  Dr.  Curie 
and  Dr.  Wren,  who  were  then  bishops  of  Winton  and  of  Nor- 
wich (and  had  formerly  taken  their  degrees  in  Cambridge)  were 
with  him  created  doctors  of  divinity  in  his  university.  So  was 
Meric  the  son  of  the  learned  Isaac  Casaubon :  and  prince  Ru- 
pert (who  still  lives)  ;  the  then  duke  of  Lenox ;  earl  of  Hertford ; 
earl  of  Essex  ;  of  Berkshire ;  and  very  many  others  of  noble  birth 
(too  many  to  be  named)  were  then  created  masters  of  arts. 

Some  years  before  this  unhappy  long  parliament,  this  nation 
being  then  happy  and  in  peace,  (though  inwardly  sick  of  being 
well,)  namely  in  the  year  1639,  a  discontented  party  of  the  Scotch 
church  were  zealously  restless  for  another  reformation  of  their 
kirk  government ;  and  to  that  end  created  a  new  Covenant,  for 
the  general  taking  of  which  they  pretended  to  petition  the  king 
for  his  assent,  and  that  he  would  enjoin  the  taking  of  it  by  all  of 
that  nation :  but  this  petition  was  not  to  be  presented  to  him  by 
a  committee  of  eight  or  ten  men  of  their  fraternity,  but  by  so 
many  thousands,  and  they  so  armed,  as  seemed  to  force  an  assent 
to  what  they  seemed  but  to  request ;  so  that  though  forbidden  by 
the  king,  yet  they  entered  England,  and  in  their  heat  of  zeal  took 
and  plundered  New-Castle,  where  the  king  was  forced  to  meet 
them  with  an  army ;  but  upon  a  treaty  and  some  concessions,  he 
sent  them  back  (though  not  so  rich  as  they  intended,  yet)  for 
that  time  without  any  blood-shed. — But  oh  !  this  peace  and  this 
covenant  were  but  the  fore-runners  of  war,  and  the  many  mise- 
ries that  followed.  For  in  the  year  following  there  were  so  many 
chosen  into  the  long  parliament,  that  were  of  a  conjunct  council 
with  these  very  zealous,  and  as  factious  reformers,  as  begot  such 
a  confusion  by  the  several  desires  and  designs  in  many  of  the 
members  of  that  parliament  (all  did  never  consent)  and  at  last  in 
the  very  common  people  of  this  nation,  that  they  were  so  lost  by 
contrary  designs,  fears,  and  confusions,  as  to  believe  the  Scots 
and  their  covenant  would  restore  them  to  that  former  tranquillity 
which  they  had  lost.  And  to  that  end,  the  presbyterian  party  of 
this  nation  did  again,  in  the  year  1643,  invite  the  Scotch  cove- 
nanters back  into  England  :  and  hither  they  came  marching  with 
it  gloriously  upon  their  pikes,  and  in  their  hats  with  this  motto, 
For  the  Crown  and  Covenant  of  both  Kingdoms.  This  I  saw  and 
suffered  by  it.  But  when  I  look  back  upon  the  ruin  of  families, 
VOL.  iv.  F  f 


434  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

the  blood-shed,  the  decay  of  common  honesty,  and  how  the 
former  piety  and  plain  dealing  of  this  now  sinful  nation  is  turned 
into  cruelty  and  cunning !  when  I  consider  this,  I  praise  God 
that  he  prevented  me  from  being  of  that  party  which  helped  to 
bring  in  this  covenant,  and  those  sad  confusions  that  have  fol- 
lowed it.  And  I  have  been  the  bolder  to  say  this  of  myself,  be- 
cause in  a  sad  discourse  with  Dr.  Sanderson,  I  heard  him  make 
the  like  grateful  acknowledgment. 

This  digression  is  intended  for  the  better  information  of  the 
reader  in  what  will  follow  concerning  Dr.  Sanderson.  And  first, 
that  the  covenanters  of  this  nation,  and  their  party  in  parliament, 
made  many  exceptions  against  the  common  prayer  and  ceremonies 
of  the  church,  and  seemed  restless  for  another  reformation.  And 
though  their  desires  seemed  not  reasonable  to  the  king  and  the 
learned  Dr.  Laud,  then  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  many 
others ;  yet  to  quiet  their  consciences,  and  prevent  future  confu- 
sion, they  did  in  the  year  1641,  desire  Dr.  Sanderson  to  call  t\\<> 
more  of  the  convocation  to  advise  with  him,  and  that  he  would 
then  draw  up  some  such  safe  alterations  as  he  thought  fit  in  the 
service-book,  and  abate  some  of  the  ceremonies  that  were  least 
material,  for  satisfying  their  consciences ;  and  to  this  end7  he  and 

7  And  to  this  endJ]  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  particular  account 
remaining  of  what  was  consulted  and  prepared  on  this  interesting  occasion. 
I  incline  to  think  however,  that  there  is  a  reference  to  the  undertaking  in  a 
sermon  of  Sanderson's  Ad  Clerum,  preached  at  Grantham,  Oct.  8,  1641,  on 
Matt.  xv.  9.  §  30. 

"The  last  use  should  be  an  humble  supplication  to  those  that  have  in 
their  hands  the  ordering  of  the  great  affairs  of  church  and  state,  that  tlu\v 
would,  in  their  goodness  and  wisdom,  make  some  speedy  and  effectual  pro- 
vision, to  repress  the  exorbitant  licentiousness  of  these  times  in  printing  and 
preaching  every  man  what  he  lists,  to  the  great  dishonour  of  God,  scandal  of 
the  reformed  religion,  fomenting  of  superstition  and  error,  and  disturbance 
of  the  peace,  both  of  church  and  commonwealth ;  lest,  if  way  be  still  given 
thereunto,  those  evil  spirits  that  this  late  connivance  hath  raised,  grow  so 
fierce  within  a  while,  that  it  will  trouble  all  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the 
kingdom,  to  conjure  them  handsomely  down  again.  But  certainly,  since  we 
find  by  late  experience,  what  wildness  in  some  of  the  lay  people,  what  petu- 
lancy  in  some  of  the  inferior  clergy,  what  insolency  in  some  both  of  the 
laity  and  clergy,  our  land  is  grown  unto,  since  the  reins  of  the  ecclesiastical 
government  have  lain  a  little  slack  : — we  cannot  but  see,  what  need  we  have 
to  desire  and  pray,  that  the  ecclesiastical  government  and  power  may  be 
timely  settled  in  some  such  moderate  and  effectual  way  ;  as  that  it  may  not  be 
either  too  much  abased  by  them  that  are  to  exercise  it,  or  too  much  desj 
by  those  that  must  live  under  it.  In  the  mean  time,  so  long  as  things  hang 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  435 

two  others  did  meet  together  privately  twice  a  week  at  the  dean 
of  Westminster's  house,  for  the  space  of  five  months  or  more. 
But  not  long  after  that  time,  when  Dr.  Sanderson  had  made  the 
reformation  ready  for  a  view,  the  church  and  state  were  both 
fallen  into  such  a  confusion,  that  Dr.  Sanderson's  model  for 
reformation  became  then  useless.  Nevertheless  the  repute  of  his 
moderation  and  wisdom  was  such,  that  he  was  in  the  year  1642, 
proposed  by  both  houses  of  parliament  to  the  king  then  in  Oxford, 
to  be  one  of  their  trustees  for  the  settling  of  church  affairs,  and 
was  allowed  of  by  the  king  to  be  so ;  but  that  treaty  came  to 
nothing. 

In  the  year  1 643,  the  two  houses  of  parliament  took  upon  them 
to  make  an  ordinance,  and  call  an  Assembly  of  Divines,  to  debate 
and  settle  church  controversies,  of  which  many  that  were  elected 
were  very  unfit  to  judge :  in  which  Dr.  Sanderson  was  also  named 
by  the  parliament,  but  did  not  appear ;  I  suppose  for  the  same 
reason  that  many  other  worthy  and  learned  men  did  forbear,  the 
summons  wanting  the  king's  authority. 

And  here  I  must  look  back  and  tell  the  reader,  that  in  the 
year  1642,  he  was  (July  21)  named  by  a  more  undoubted  autho- 
rity to  a  more  noble  employment,  which  was  to  be  professor  regius 
of  divinity  in  Oxford ;  but  though  knowledge  be  said  to  puff  up, 
yet  his  modesty  and  too  mean  an  opinion  of  his  great  abilities, 
and  some  other  real  or  pretended  reasons  (expressed  in  his  speech 8, 

thus  loose  and  unsettled,  I  know  not  better  how  to  represent  unto  you  the 
present  face  of  the  times  in  some  respects,  than  in  the  words  of  the  prophet 
Jeremy,  The  prophets  prophesy  lies,  and  the  priests  get  power  into  their  hands 
by  their  means,  and  my  people  love  to  have  it  so :  And  what  will  ye  do  in  the 
end  thereof?  (Jer.  v.  31)."  p.  96,  edit.  1686. 

8  Expressed  in  his  speech.^  There  is  so  much  of  nature,  and  other  interest- 
ing, beautiful  and  excellent  qualities  in  the  account  which  he  gives  here,  in 
his  inaugural  oration,  that  though  the  extract  is  long,  I  cannot  refuse  myself 
the  satisfaction  of  producing  it.  The  quotation  begins  with  the  opening  of 
the  oration  : 

"  Postquam  mihi,  integro  jam  quadriennio  et  quod  excurrit,  quicquid  est 
hoc  professorii  sive  muneris  delegatum,  sive  oneris  impositum  esse  sensi ; 
dici  vix  potest,  auditores,  quam  horruerim  totus,  quam  variae  adversantesque 
sibi  cogitationes  mox  animum  alternatim  incesserint  meum.  Obversabantur 
imprimis  ante  oculos  quamplurima,  quse  virum  longe  viribus  prsestabiliorem 
audentioremque  quam  ego  me  aut  esse  puto,  aut  haberi  velim,  a  suscipiendo 
tarn  arduo  munere  prorsus  absterrerent.  Provincia  cum  omni  tempore 
difficilis,  turn  illis,  nisi  pejora  insecuta  essent,  pessimis  temporibus,  post  tot 
enatas  novas,  veteres  renatas  hsereses,  multo  difficilior  :  vires,  cum  vel  maxime 

rf  2 


436  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

when  he  first  appeared  in  the  chair,  and  since  printed)  kept  him 
from  entering  into  it  till  October  1646. 

vigerent,  admodum  exiguae,  et  tune  accrescentibus  annis  fractae  plurimum 
imminutaeque ;  meraoria  fragilis  et  infula  ;  impediti  oris,  in  hac  etiam  balbes- 
cente  senectute,  infantia;  vel  ipsius  Latin!  sermonis  post  quinque  turn  su- 
perque  lustromm  absentiam  insolentia :  perorandi,  praelegendi,  disputandi, 
determinandi,  caeteraque  quae  hujusce  sunt  muneris  praestandi  (quae  fortassis 
ab  his  exigi  fas  est,  qui  assidui  sunt  in  hac  palaestra)  faciiltas  si  qua  olim  inerat, 
quum  in  his  studiis  aliquantulum  versaremur,  et  quantilla  turn  ilia !  exoleta 
jam  prorsus  et  plane  nulla.  Denique  ut  minutiora  ilia  praeteream,  longinquae 
migrationis  cum  famulatu  et  supellectile  qua  libraria  qua  domestica,  taedium, 
reliquaque  ab  re  familiar!  incommoda :  vel  is  unus,  quern  et  fateri  pudet,  pudor 
plusquam  subrusticus,  et  (quam  facile  patior  amicos  amoris  quodam  errore 
modestiam  interpretari)  invirilis  quaedam  verecundia.  Insuperabilis  ilia  qui- 
dem,  ut  quam  natura  insevit,  firmavit  educatio,  fovit  hactenus,  atque  etiam- 
num  fovet,  tenuitatis  propriae  conscientia ;  sed  qua  tamen  vix  aliud  comperi 
quidquam  a  prima  pueritia  ad  hunc  usque  diem  aut  rationibus  meis  aut 
existimationi  magis  adversarium.  Retundit  haec  assidue  generosiores  quos- 
que  animi  impetus ;  eximium  quid  ausuri  conatus  frangit :  memoriam  pessime 
labefactat,  sermonis  vim  aut  praeripit  aut  sistit ;  ut,  quod  mihi  visus  sum 
quandoque  mente  concepisse  haucl  prorsus  incommode  aut  abs  re,  hoc  aut  non 
ausim  proloqui  statua  taciturnior ;  aut  si  tentem,  sic  timide,  sic  gelide,  sic 
id  faciam  haesitans,  ut  aliquando  praestaret  non  tentasse ;  dicam  verbo,  et 
quod  res  est;  una  haec  timiditas  et  (si  dabitis  vocabulo  veniam)  haec  infiducia 
mei,  ut  de  munere  hoc  detrectando  serio  cogitarim,  atque  etiam  aliud  earn  in 
rem  tentarim,  plus  efficit  quam  caetera  ilia,  quantumvis  gravia,  quae  hactenus 
commemini  universa. 

"  Occurrebant,  dum  isthaec  cogito,  ex  adverse  pauca  quaedam,  nee  asper- 
nanda,  quae  labantem  animum  nonnihil  erigerent,  cunctantemque  subinde 
velut  subjectis  stimulis  in  hanc  arenam  propellerent.  Optimi  Regis  judicium  : 
crebri  amicomm  hortatus  :  vester  multonim  (ut  illi  submonebant,  et  ego  haud 
inexpertus  humanitatem  vestram  facile  credebam)  in  me  proni  affectus. 
Pepulerunt  ista  fateor  (ut  par  erat)  animum  meum ;  quin  et  commoverunt ; 
sed  hactenus,  ut  tamen  si  raeo  unius  arbitratu  res  statuenda  foret,  nee  longa 
nee  difficilis  futura  esset  deliberatio.  Quid  enim  ?  Patererne  ego  me  letate 
jam  declivi,  defectis  viribus,  memoria  lubrica,  balbum  et  pertimidum  senem, 
ex  suavissimo  quo  perfruebar  otio  et  umbra,  in  apricum  et  in  pulverem, 
iniquissimo  tempore,  post  viginti-quinque  annorum  missionem,  quasi  postli- 
minio  et  invitum  rapi  ?  et  quae  me  poterant  satis  expurgasse  cicutae  si  lubens 
consensissem  ?  Quis  non  omnem  mihi  Anticyram  dcstinatam  creder 
abnuissem,  et  quoad  verecunde  licuit,  restitissem  ? 

"  Krgo  ne  perduci  poteras,  inquietis,  ut  conditioni  tarn  iniquae  acquiesceres 
tandem,  sanus  utrisque  auribus  atque  oculis  ?  Poteram,  ut  videtis,  et  JHT- 
ductus  sum  :  ita  sunt  et  res  humanae,  sic  et  consilia  incerta :  sanusne  an  secus 
ubi  facti  rationem  edidero  vosmet  judicate  :  certe  non  ego  hac  in  re  vel  in- 
genio  meo  obsecutus  sum,  vel  etiam  judicio ;  cui  ut  optatius  fuit  ita  visum 
est  salutarius  in  tenebris  latitarc  securum  quam  cum  labore  et  periculo  pro- 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  437 

He  did  for  about  a  yearns  time  continue  to  read  his  matchless 
lectures,  which  were  first  de  Juramento,  a  point  very  seraphical, 
and  as  difficult,  and  at  that  time  very  dangerous  to  be  handled  as 
it  ought  to  be.  But  this  learned  man,  as  he  was  eminently  fur- 
nished with  abilities  to  satisfy  the  consciences  of  men  upon  that 
important  subject ;  so  he  wanted  not  courage  to  assert  the  true 
obligation  of  it,  and  of  oaths  in  a  degenerate  age,  when  men 
had  made  perjury  a  main  part  of,  or  at  least  very  useful  to  their 
religion.  How  much  the  learned  world  stands  obliged  to  him 
for  these  and  his  following  lectures  de  Conscientia,  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  declare,  as  being  very  sensible  that  the  best  pens 
fall  short  in  the  commendation  of  them  :  so  that  I  shall  only  add 
that  they  continue  to  this  day,  and  will  do  for  ever,  as  a  complete 
standard  for  the  resolution  of  the  most  material  doubts  in  that 

dire  in  scenam.  Imo  vero  egi  cum  amicis,  qui  apud  serenissimam  regiam 
majestatem  videbantur  aliquid  posse ;  idque  non  una  vice,  coram  et  per  literas 
semel  atque  iterum  obtestatus  sum  per  omnem  amicitiam,  regis  animum  per- 
tentarent  fieri  ne  posset  sine  ipsius  offensione,  ut  de  hac  cathedra  aliter  sta- 
tueretur,  nee  ego  tarn  importunum  onus  tarn  imparibus  humeris  sustinere 
cogerer.  Pertentant :  renunciant  fieri  non  posse ;  perstare  in  sententia  regem, 
quod  ante  jussisset  et  id  ratum  esse  velle ;  non  utique  obniterer  porro 
frustra,  sed  onus  quod  excutere  non  possem,  qua  possem  animi  alacritate 
subirem  et  perferrem.  Haec  admonitus,  officii  conscientia,  cujus  voluntati 
obtemperare  debui,  ejus  auctoritati  cessi :  Maxime  cum  altius  insurgerem  (nam 
quse  hactenus  dicta  sunt  ad  human  as  tantum  rationes  pertinent)  et  ut  decuit 
hominem  et  Christianum  et  Theologum,  summam  Dei  Opt.  Max.  providentiam, 
singula  quas  in  terris  aguntur  vel  minutissima  qusequse,  prout  ipsi  collibitum 
est,  et  suaviter  et  fortiter  moderantis,  diligentius  cogitarem  :  scilicet  est  cor 
regis  in  manu  domini,  sicut  derivationes  aquarum  et  pro  beneplacito  suo 
convertit  ipsum.  Haec  ego  quo  saepius  et  attentius  cum  animo  reputavi  meo, 
eo  mihi  propius  conjunctam  cum  regia  voluntate  divinam  etiam  vocationem 
visus  sum  contueri.  Si  quidem  nihil  aliud  est,  quantum  ego  quidem  adhuc 
intelligere  potui,  ordinaria  Dei  ad  aliquod  munus  vocatio,  quam  ab  his  penes 
quos  est  plena  et  legitima  de  ejusmodi  rebus  statuendi  potestas,  personae 
ipsorum  judicio  non  inidoneae,  nulla  intercedente  prava  ambitione,  dolo,  ma- 
lisve  artibus,  designatio.  Pervicit  itaque  omnia  impedimenta,  omnia  objecta- 
menta  diluit,  duplex  ilia  parendi  necessitas,  voluntati  regiae,  divinae  vocationi. 
Quo  mihi  paratiorem  apud  omnes  bonos,  apud  omnes  aequos  rerum  aestima- 
tores  excusationem  fore  confido,  si  (quod  indubie  futurum  prospicio)  in  obe- 
undo  hoc  tarn  illustri,  tarn  arduo  munere,  nee  votis  meis,  nee  vestrae  expecta- 
tion! satisfacerem.  Dabo  tamen  operam  officio  utcunque  ut  satisfaciam  meo ; 
et  sane,  ut  aliquid  saltern  de  me  fidenter  dicam,  spero  me  aliqua  ex  parte 
satisfacturum  :  illud  si  concedatis,  quod  omnino  concedi  debet  et  est  veris- 
simum,  non  satisfecisse  officio,  qui  se  ingessit,  ni  fecerit,  quod  debuit :  satis- 
fecisse,  qui  admotus  est,  si  fecerit  quod  potuit " 


438  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

part  of  casuistical  divinity.  And  therefore  I  proceed  to  tell  the 
reader,  that  about  the  time  of  his  reading  those  lectures  (the 
king  being  then  prisoner  in  the  Isle  of  Wight)  that  part  of  the 
parliament  then  at  Westminster  sent  the  Covenant,  the  Negative 
Oath,  and  I  know  not  what  more  to  Oxford,  to  be  taken  by  the 
doctor  of  the  chair,  and  all  heads  of  houses :  and  ah1  the  other 
inferior  scholars  of  what  degree  soever,  were  also  to  take  these 
oaths  by  a  fixed  day :  for  those  that  did  not  were  to  abandon 
their  colleges  and  the  university  too,  within  twenty-four  hours 
after  the  beating  of  a  drum ;  and  if  they  remained  longer,  they 
were  to  be  proceeded  against  as  spies. 

Dr.  Laud  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  earl  of  Strafford 
and  many  others,  had  been  formerly  murdered,  but  the  king  yet 
was  not ;  and  the  university  had  yet  some  faint  hopes  that  in  a 
treaty  then  in  being  betwixt  him  and  them  that  confined  him,  or 
pretended  to  be  suddenly,  there  might  be  such  an  agreement 
made,  that  the  dissenters  in  the  university  might  both  preserve 
their  consciences,  and  the  poor  subsistence  which  they  then 
enjoyed  by  their  colleges. 

And  being  possessed  of  this  mistaken  hope,  that  the  men  in 
present  power  were  not  yet  grown  so  merciless,  as  not  to  allow 
manifest  reason  for  their  not  submitting  to  the  enjoined  oaths, 
the  university  appointed  the  delegates  to  meet,  consider,  and 
draw  up  a  manifesto  to  them,  why  they  could  not  take  those  oaths 
but  by  violation  of  their  consciences.  And  of  these  dele^ 
Dr.  Sheldon  (late  archbishop  of  Canterbury),  Dr.  Hammond,  Dr. 
Sanderson,  Dr.  Morley  (now  bishop  of  Winchester),  and  that 
most  honest,  very  learned,  and  as  judicious  civil  lawyer,  Dr. 
Zouch,  were  a  part :  the  rest  I  cannot  now  name ;  but  the  whole 
number  of  the  delegates  requested  Dr.  Zouch  to  draw  up  tin  law 
part,  and  give  it  to  Dr.  Sanderson,  and  he  was  requested  to 
methodize  and  add  what  referred  to  reason  and  conscience,  and 
put  it  into  form.  He  yielded  to  their  desires,  and  did  so.  And 
then  after  they  had  been  read  in  a  full  convocation,  and  allowed 
of,  they  were  printed  in  Latin 9,  that  the  parliaments  proceedings 
and  the  university  sufferings  might  be  manifested  to  all  nations  ; 

9  Printed  in  Latin.']  The  English  copy,  under  the  title,  "  Reasons  of  the 
present  judgment  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  concerning  the  Solemn  League 
iind  Covenant,  the  Negative  Oath,  and  the  Ordinances  concerning  Discipline 
and  Worship;  appmvnl  by  general  consent  in  a  full  Convocation.  June  1st, 
I "  17, "may  be  found,  along  with  other  tracts  of  Sanderson,  in  the  first 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  439 

and  the  imposers  of  these  oaths  might  repent,  or  answer  them  : 
but  they  were  past  the  first ;  and  for  the  latter,  I  might  swear 
they  neither  can,  nor  ever  will.  And  these  reasons  were  also  sud- 
denly turned  into  English  by  Dr.  Sanderson,  that  all  those  of  these 
three  kingdoms  might  the  better  judge  of  the  cause  of  the  loyal 
party's  sufferings. 

About  this  time  the  Independents  (who  were  then  grown  to 
be  the  most  powerful  part  of  the  army)  had  taken  the  king  from 
a  close  to  a  more  large  imprisonment,  and  by  their  own  pretences 
to  liberty  of  conscience,  were  obliged  to  allow  somewhat  like  that 
to  the  king,  who  had  in  the  year  1646,  sent  for  Dr.  Sanderson, 
Dr.  Hammond,  Dr.  Sheldon  (the  late  archbishop  of  Canterbury) 
and  Dr.  Morley  (the  now  bishop  of  Winchester)  to  attend  him, 
in  order  to  advise  with  them,  how  far  he  might  with  a  good  con- 
science comply  with  the  proposals  of  the  parliament  for  a  peace  in 
church  and  state  ;  but  these  having  been  then  denied  by  the 
presbyterian  parliament,  were  now  by  their  own  rules  allowed 
him  *  by  those  Independents  now  in  present  power.  And  with 
some  of  those  divines,  Dr.  Sanderson  also  gave  his  attendance  on 
his  majesty  in  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  preached  there  before  him,  and 
had  in  that  attendance  many,  both  public  and  private  conferences 
with  him,  to  his  majesty's  great  satisfaction.  At  which  time  he 
desired  Dr.  Sanderson,  being  the  parliament  had  then  proposed 
to  him  the  abolishing  of  episcopal  government  in  the  church,  as 
inconsistent  with  monarchy,  and  selling  theirs  and  the  cathedral 
church-land  to  pay  those  soldiers  that  they  had  raised  to  fight 
against  him,  that  he  would  consider  of  it,  and  declare  his  judg- 
ment. He  undertook  to  do  so,  and  did  it ;  but  it  might  not  be 
printed 2  till  our  king's  happy  restoration,  and  then  it  was.  And 
at  Dr.  Sanderson's  then  taking  his  leave  of  his  majesty  in  this  his 
last  attendance  on  him,  the  king  requested  him  to  betake  himself 
to  the  writing  cases  of  conscience  for  the  good  of  posterity.  To 
which  his  answer  was,  "  That  he  was  now  grown  old,  and  unfit 

edition  of  this  life,  published  in  1678  ;  and  also  in  Somers's  Tracts,  vol.  iv. 
p.  606 — 26.  For  the  Latin  copy,  see  Sanderson's  Lectures  De  Juramenti 
Obligations,  at  the  end.  See  also  Wood's  Annals  of  the  Univ.  of  Oxford, 
vol.  ii.  part  ii.  p.  507.  It  is  an  extremely  valuable  and  interesting  treatise. 

1  Allowed  him.~\  See  Life  of  Dr.  Hammond  in  this  vol.  p.  347,  note. 

2  Might  not  be  printed^]  "  Episcopacy,  as  established  by  law  in  England,  not 
prejudicial  to  regal  power,  written  in  the  time  of  the  long  parliament  by  the 
special  command  of  the  late  king,  1661." 


440  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

to  write  cases  of  conscience."  But  the  king  was  so  bold  with 
him  as  to  say,  "It  was  the  simplest  answer  he  ever  heard  from 
Dr.  Sanderson ;  for  no  young  man  was  fit  to  be  made  a  judge,  or 
write  cases  of  conscience."  And  let  me  here  take  occasion  to  tell 
the  reader  this  truth,  very  fit  to  be,  but  not  commonly  known  ; 
that  in  one  of  these  conferences  this  conscientious  king  was  told 
by  a  faithful  and  private  intelligencer,  "  That  if  he  assented  not 
to  the  parliament's  proposals,  the  treaty  betwixt  him  and  them 
would  break  immediately,  and  his  life  would  then  be  in  danger ; 
he  was  sure  he  knew  it."  To  which  his  answer  was,  "  I  have 
done  what  I  can  to  bring  my  conscience  to  a  compliance  with 
their  proposals,  and  cannot ;  and  I  will  not  lose  my  conscience  to 
save  my  life ;"  and  within  a  very  short  time  after,  he  told  Dr. 
Sanderson  and  Dr.  Morley,  or  one  of  them  that  then  waited  with 
him,  "  That  the  remembrance  of  two  errors  did  much  afflict  him, 
which  were,  his  assent  to  the  earl  of  Straffbrd's  death,  and  the 
abolishing  episcopacy  in  Scotland  * ;  and  that  if  God  ever  restored 
him  to  be  in  a  peaceable  possession  of  his  crown,  he  would  demon- 
strate his  repentance  by  a  public  confession  and  voluntary  penance" 
(I  think  barefoot)  "  from  the  Tower  of  London,  or  Whitehall,  to 
St.  Paul's  church,  and  desire  the  people  to  intercede  with  God 
for  his  pardon."  I  am  sure  one  of  them  that  told  it  me,  lives 

3  In  Scotland.]  "  He  never  refused  to  take  to  himself  the  shame  of  those 
acts  wherein  he  had  transgressed,  that  he  might  give  glory  to  his  God.  After 
the  army  had  forced  him  from  Holmby,  [or  Holdenby,  near  Northampton] 
and  in  their  several  removes  had  brought  him  to  Latimers,  an  house  of  the 
earl  of  Devonshire,  [near  Chesham,  in  Buckinghamshire]  on  August  1st,  [1 G47] 
being  Sunday,  in  the  morning,  before  sermon,  he  led  forth  with  him  into  the 
garden  the  rev.  Dr.  Sheldon,  who  then  attended  on  him,  and  whom  he  was 
pleased  to  use  as  his  confessor,  and  drawing  out  of  his  pocket  a  paper,  com- 
manded him  to  read  it,  transcribe  it,  and  so  deliver  it  to  him  again.  This 
paper  contained  several  vows,  which  he  had  obliged  his  soul  unto,  for  the 
glory  of  his  Maker,  the  advance  of  true  piety,  and  emoluments  of  the  church. 
And  among  them  this  was  one ;  that  '  he  would  do  public  penance  for  the 
injustice  he  had  suffered  to  be  done  to  the  earl  of  Strafford ;  and  his  consent 
to  those  injuries  that  were  done  to  the  church  of  England,'  (though  at  that 
time  he  had  yielded  to  no  more  than  the  taking  away  of  the  high  commission, 
and  the  bishops'  power  to  vote  in  parliament,)  *  and  to  the  church  of  Scot- 
land :'  and  he  adjured  the  doctor,  that '  if  ever  he  saw  him  in  a  condition 
to  observe  that,  or  any  other  of  those  vows,  he  should  solicitously  mind  him 
of  the  obligations,  as  he  dreaded  the  guilt  of  the  breach  should  lie  upon  his 
own  soul." — The  Royal  Martyr ;  or  the  Life  and  Death  of  King  Charles  /., 
by  Dr.  Richard  Perrinchief,  p.  181,  2,  edit.  1727. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  441 

still,  and  will  witness  it. — And  it  ought  to  be  observed,  that  Dr. 
Sanderson's  lectures  de  Juramento  were  so  approved  and  valued 
by  the  king,  that  in  this  time  of  his  imprisonment  and  solitude, 
he  translated  them  into  exact  English,  desiring  Dr.  Juxon  (then 
bishop  of  London,)  Dr.  Hammond,  and  sir  Thomas  Herbert 
(who  then  attended  him  in  his  restraint)  to  compare  them  with 
the  original.  The  last  still  lives,  and  has  declared  it,  with  some 
other  of  that  king's  excellencies,  in  a  letter 4  under  his  own  hand, 
which  was  lately  shewed  me  by  sir  William  Dugdale,  king  at 
arms.  The  translation  was  designed  to  be  put  into  the  king's 
library  at  St.  James's  5,  but  I  doubt,  not  now  to  be  found  there. 
I  thought  the  honour  of  the  author  and  the  translator  to  be  both 
so  much  concerned  in  this  relation,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  con- 
cealed from  the  reader,  and  it  is  therefore  here  inserted. 

I  now  return  to  Dr.  Sanderson  in  the  chair  in  Oxford,  where 
they  that  complied  not  in  taking  the  covenant,  negative  oath,  and 
parliament  ordinance  for  church  discipline  and  worship,  were  under 
a  sad  and  daily  apprehension  of  expulsion ;  for  the  visitors 6  were 
daily  expected,  and  both  city  and  university  full  of  soldiers,  and  a 
party  of  presbyterian  divines,  that  were  as  greedy  and  ready  to 
possess,  as  the  ignorant  and  ill-natured  visitors  were  to  eject  the 
dissenters  out  of  their  colleges  and  livelihoods.  But  notwith- 
standing, Dr.  Sanderson  did  still  continue  to  read  his  lecture,  and 
did  to  the  very  faces  of  those  presbyterian  divines  and  soldiers, 
read  with  so  much  reason,  and  with  a  calm  fortitude  make  such 
applications,  as  if  they  were  not,  they  ought  to  have  been  ashamed, 
and  begged  pardon  of  God  and  him,  and  forborne  to  do  what  fol- 
lowed. But  these  thriving  sinners  were  hardened  ;  and  as  the 
visitors  expelled  the  orthodox,  they  without  scruple  or  shame 
possessed  themselves  immediately  of  their  colleges  ;  so  that  with 
the  rest,  Dr.  Sanderson  was  (in  June  1648)  forced  to  pack  up 
and  be  gone,  and  thank  God  he  was  not  imprisoned  as  Dr.  Shel- 
don, Dr.  Hammond,  and  others  then  were. 

I  must  now  again  look  back  to  Oxford,  and  tell  my  reader, 
that  the  year  before  this  expulsion,  when  the  university  had 

4  In  a  letter.']  See  Memoirs  of  the  two  last  years  of  the  reign  of  king  Charles 
/.,  p.  63,  edit.  1813. 

5  King's  library  at  St.  James's.]    Meaning  the  old  Royal  Library,  which 
has  been  mentioned  before  (see  p.  1 99,  note)  as  being  in  the  British  Museum. 
In  Bernard's  Catalogue  it  is  called  "  Bibliotheca  Jacobaa." 

6  The  visitors.']  Compare  above,  Life  of  Hammond,  p.  349. 


442  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

denied  this  subscription,  and  apprehended  the  danger  of  that 
visitation  which  followed,  they  sent  Dr.  Morley,  then  canon  of 
Christ-church  (now  lord  bishop  of  Winchester),  and  others,  to 
petition  the  parliament  for  re-calling  the  injunction,  or  a  mitiga- 
tion of  it,  or  to  accept  of  their  reasons  why  they  could  not  take 
the  oaths  enjoined  them ;  and  the  petition  was  by  parliament 
referred  to  a  committee  to  hear  and  report  the  reasons  to  the 
house,  and  a  day  set  for  hearing  them.  This  done,  Dr.  Morley 
and  the  rest  went  to  inform  and  fee  counsel,  to  plead  their  cause 
on  the  day  appointed  :  but  there  had  been  so  many  committed 
for  pleading,  that  none  durst  be  so  bold  as  to  undertake  it  cor- 
dially ;  for  at  this  time  the  privileges  of  that  part  of  the  parlia- 
ment then  sitting  were  become  a  noli  me  tangere ;  as  sacred  and 
useful  to  them,  as  traditions  ever  were,  or  are  now  to  the  church 
of  Borne  ;  their  number  must  never  be  known,  and  therefore  not 
without  danger  to  be  meddled  with.  For  which  reason  Dr.  Mor- 
ley was  forced,  for  want  of  counsel,  to  plead  the  university^  rea- 
sons for  not  compliance  with  the  parliament's  injunctions ;  and 
though  this  was  done  with  great  reason,  and  a  boldness  equal  to 
the  justice  of  his  cause,  yet  the  effect  of  it  was,  but  that  he  and 
the  rest  appearing  with  him  were  so  fortunate,  as  to  return  to 
Oxford  without  commitment.  This  was  some  few  days  before 
the  visitors  and  more  soldiers  were  sent  down  to  drive  the  dis- 
senters out  of  the  university.  And  one  that  was  at  this  time  of 
Dr.  Morley  "s  pleading,  a  powerful  man  in  the  parliament,  and  of 
that  committee,  observing  Dr.  Morley's  behaviour  and  reason, 
and  enquiring  of  him,  and  hearing  a  good  report  of  his  principles 
in  religion,  and  of  his  morals,  was  therefore  willing  to  afford  him 
a  peculiar  favour ;  and  that  he  might  express  it,  sent  for  mo  that 
relate  this  story,  and  knew  Dr.  Morley  well,  and  told  me,  4k  lie 
had  such  a  love  for  Dr.  Morley,  that  knowing  he  would  not  take 
the  oaths,  and  must  therefore  be  ejected  his  college,  and  leave 
Oxford ;  he  desired  I  would  therefore  write  to  him  to  ride  out  of 
Oxford  when  the  visitors  came  into  it,  and  not  return  till  they 
left  it,  and  he  should  be  sure  then  to  return  in  safety  ;  and  that 
by  so  doing  he  should  without  taking  any  oath  or  other  molesta- 
tion, enjoy  his  canon's  place  in  the  college."  I  did  receive  thi* 
intended  kindness  with  a  sudden  gladness,  because  I  was  sure  the 
party  had  a  power  to  do  what  he  professed,  and  as  sure  he  meant 
to  perform  it,  and  did  therefore  write  the  doctor  word  ;  t«»  which 
his  answer  was,  "  That  1  must  not  fail  to  return  my  friend""  (who 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  443 

still  lives)  "his  humble  and  undissembled  thanks,  though  he  could 
not  accept  of  his  intended  kindness ;  for  when  Dr.  Fell "  (then 
the  dean),  "  Dr.  Gardner,  Dr.  Paine,  Dr.  Hammond,  Dr.  Sander- 
son, and  all  the  rest  of  the  college,  were  turned  out,  except  Dr. 
Wall,  he  should  take  it  to  be,  if  not  a  sin,  yet  a  shame  to  be  left 
behind  with  him  only."  Dr.  Wall  I  knew,  and  will  speak  nothing 
of  him,  for  he  is  dead. 

It  may  be  easily  imagined,  with  what  a  joyful  willingness  these 
self-loving  reformers  took  possession  of  all  vacant  preferments, 
and  with  what  reluctance  others  parted  with  their  beloved  colleges 
and  subsistence :  but  their  consciences  were  dearer  than  both, 
and  out  they  went ;  the  reformers  possessing  them  without  shame 
or  scruple  ;  where  I  will  leave  these  scruple-mongers,  and  proceed 
to  make  an  account  of  the  then  present  affairs  of  London,  to  be 
the  next  employment  of  my  reader's  patience. 

And  in  London  all  the  bishop's  houses  were  turned  to  be 
prisons,  and  they  filled  with  divines  that  would  not  take  the  cove- 
nant, or  forbear  reading  common-prayer,  or  that  were  accused  for 
some  faults  like  these.  For  it  may  be  noted,  that  about  this 
time  the  parliament  sent  out  a  proclamation  to  encourage  all  lay- 
men that  had  occasion  to  complain  of  their  ministers,  for  being 
troublesome  or  scandalous,  or  that  conformed  not  to  orders  of 
parliament,  to  make  their  complaint  to  a  select  committee  for  that 
purpose ;  and  the  minister,  though  one  hundred  miles  from  Lon- 
don, was  to  appear  there  and  give  satisfaction,  or  be  sequestered  ; 
(and  you  may  be  sure  no  parish  could  want  a  covetous,  or  mali- 
cious, or  cross-grained  complainant :)  by  which  means  all  prisons 
in  London,  and  in  many  other  places,  became  the  sad  habitations 
of  conforming  divines. 

And  about  this  time  the  bishop  of  Canterbury  having  been  by 
an  unknown  law  condemned  to  die 7,  and  the  execution  suspended 
for  some  days,  many  citizens  fearing  time  and  cool  thoughts  might 
procure  his  pardon,  became  so  maliciously  impudent  as  to  shut  up 
their  shops,  "professing  not  to  open  them  till  justice  was  executed." 
This  malice  and  madness  is  scarce  credible,  but  I  saw  it. 

The  bishops  had  been  about  this  time  voted  out 8  of  the  house  of 
parliament,  and  some  upon  that  occasion  sent  to  the  Tower,  which 
made  many  covenanters  rejoice,  and  most  of  them  to  believe 

7  To  die.']  He  was  beheaded  January  10,  1644-5. 

8  Voted  out.]  See  Life  of  Hall,  p.  305. 


444  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

Mr.  Brightman  (who  probably  was  a  well-meaning  man)  to  be 
inspired  when  he  writ  his  Comment  on  the  Apocalypse ;  a  short 
abridgment  of  which  was  now  printed,  cried  up  and  down  the 
streets  and  called  Mr.  Brightman's  Revelation  of  the  Revelation. 
and  both  bought  up  and  believed  by  all  the  covenanters.  And 
though  he  was  grossly  mistaken  in  other  things,  yet,  because  he 
had  there  made  the  churches  of  Geneva  and  Scotland,  (which  had 
no  bishops)  to  be  Philadelphia  in  the  Apocalypse,  that  angel  that 
God  loved;  and  the  power  of  prelacy  to  be  Antichrist,  the  evil 
angel,  which  the  house  of  commons  had  now  so  spued  up,  as  never 
to  recover  their  dignity9:  therefore  did  those  covenanters  rejoice, 
approve,  and  applaud  Mr.  Brightman,  for  discovering  and  fore- 
telling the  bishops1  downfall ;  so  that  they  both  railed  at  them, 
and  at  the  same  time  rejoiced  to  buy  good  penny-worths  of  all 
their  land,  which  their  friends  of  the  house  of  commons  did  afford 
both  to  themselves  and  them,  as  a  reward  for  their  zeal  and  dili- 
gent assistance  to  pull  them  down. 

And  the  bishops'  power  being  now  vacated,  the  common  people 
were  made  so  happy,  as  that  every  parish  might  choose  their  own 
minister,  and  tell  him  when  he  did,  and  when  he  did  not  preach 
true  doctrine :  and  by  this  and  the  like  means  several  churches 
had  several  teachers,  that  prayed  and  preached  for  and  against 
one  another ;  and  engaged  their  hearers  to  contend  furiously  for 
truths  which  they  understood  not ;  some  of  which  I  shall  mention 
in  what  will  follow. 

I  have  heard  of  two  men  that  in  their  discourse  undertook  to 
give  a  character  of  a  third  person ;  and  one  concluded  he  was  a 
very  honest  man,  for  he  was  beholden  to  him  ;  and  the  other  that 
he  was  not,  for  he  was  not  beholden  to  him.  And  something  like 
this  was  in  the  designs  both  of  the  covenanters  and  independents 
(the  last  of  which  were  now  grown  both  as  numerous  and  as  power- 
ful as  the  former)  :  for  though  they  differed  much  in  many  prin- 
ciples, and  preached  against  each  other,  one  making  it  a  sign  of 

9  Recover  their  dignity.']  "  The  Puritans  have  a  strange  kind  of  logic.  A 
seat  in  the  civil  legislature  for  the  bishops  the  Puritans  deemed  an  abuse. 
They  are  now  deprived  of  their  seat,  which,  in  the  sense  of  the  Puritans,  was 
bringing  them  nearer  to  the  primitive  standard.  Yet  this  blessing  (for  such  it 
was,  if  it  brought  them  nearer  to  the  practice  of  the  purest  times),  must  be 
reckoned  by  these  very  Puritans,  the  hand  of  God  in  judgment  for  their  sins." 
Warburton's  Remarks  on  Neat's  Hist,  of  the  Puritans;  Works,  vol.  xii. 
p.  395. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  445 

being  in  the  state  of  grace,  if  we  were  but  zealous  for  the  cove- 
nant ;  and  the  other  not ;  for  we  ought  to  buy  and  sell  by  a 
measure,  and  to  allow  the  same  liberty  of  conscience  to  others, 
which  we  by  Scripture  claim  to  ourselves ;  and  therefore  not  to 
force  any  to  swear  the  covenant  contrary  to  their  consciences,  and 
probably  lose  both  their  livings  and  liberties  too.  But  though 
these  differed  thus  in  their  conclusions,  yet  they  both  agreed  in 
their  practice  to  preach  down  common  prayer,  and  get  into  the 
best  sequestered  livings;  and  whatever  became  of  the  true  owners, 
their  wives  and  children,  yet  to  continue  in  them  without  the 
least  scruple  of  conscience. 

They  also  made  other  strange  observations  of  election,  reproba- 
tion, and  free-will,  and  the  other  points  dependant  upon  these ; 
such  as  the  wisest  of  the  common  people  were  not  fit  to  judge  of : 
I  am  sure  I  am  not,  though  I  must  mention  some  of  them  histo- 
rically in  a  more  proper  place,  when  I  have  brought  my  reader 
with  me  to  Dr.  Sanderson  at  Boothby  Pannel. 

And  in  the  way  thither  I  must  tell  him,  that  a  very  covenanter 
and  a  Scot  too,  that  came  into  England  with  this  unhappy  cove- 
nant, was  got  into  a  good  sequestered  living  by  the  help  of  a 
presbyterian  parish,  which  had  got  the  true  owner  out.  And  this 
Scotch  presbyterian  being  well  settled  in  this  good  living,  began 
to  reform  the  church-yard,  by  cutting  down  a  large  ewe  tree,  and 
some  other  trees  that  were  an  ornament  to  the  place,  and  very 
often  a  shelter  to  the  parishioners :  and  they  excepting  against 
him  for  so  doing,  were  by  him  answered,  "  That  the  trees  were 
his,  and  it  was  lawful  for  every  man  to  use  his  own  as  he,  and  not 
as  others  thought  fit."  I  have  heard  (but  do  not  affirm  it)  that 
no  action  lies  against  him  that  is  so  wicked  as  to  steal  the  wind- 
ing-sheet from  off  a  dead  body  after  it  is  buried  ;  and  have  heard 
the  reason  to  be,  because  none  were  supposed  to  be  so  void  of 
humanity;  and,  that  such  a  law  would  vilify  that  nation  that 
would  but  suppose  so  vile  a  man  to  be  born  in  it :  I  speak  this 
because  I  would  not  suppose  any  man  to  do  what  this  covenanter 
did :  and  whether  there  were  any  law  against  him  I  know  not, 
but  pity  the  parish  the  less,  for  turning  out  their  legal  minister. 

We  have  now  overtaken  Dr.  Sanderson  at  Boothby  Pannel, 
where  he  hoped  to  have  enjoyed  himself,  though  in  a  poor,  yet  in 
a  quiet  and  desired  privacy ;  but  it  proved  otherwise.  For  all 
corners  of  the  nation  were  filled  with  covenanters,  confusion,  com- 
mittee-men and  soldiers,  defacing  monuments,  breaking  painted 


446  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

glass  windows,  and  serving  each  other  to  their  several  ends,  of 
revenge,  or  power,  or  profit;  and  these  committee-men  and 
soldiers  were  most  of  them  so  possessed  with  this  covenant,  that 
they  became  like  those  that  were  infected  with  that  dreadful 
plague  of  Athens ;  the  plague  of  which  plague  was,  that  they  by 
it  became  maliciously  restless  to  get  into  company,  and  to  joy  (so 
the  historian  a  saith)  when  they  had  infected  others,  even  those  of 
their  most  beloved  or  nearest  friends  or  relations ;  and  so  though 
there  might  be  some  of  these  covenanters  that  were  beguiled,  and 
meant  well ;  yet  such  were  the  generality  of  them,  and  the  temper 
of  the  times,  that  you  may  be  sure  Dr.  Sanderson,  who  though 
quiet  and  harmless,  yet  was  an  eminent  dissenter  from  them, 
could  therefore  not  live  peaceably ;  nor  did  he.  For  the  soldiers 
would  appear,  and  visibly  oppose  and  disturb  him  in  the  church 
when  he  read  prayers,  some  of  them  pretending  to  advise  him 
how  God  was  to  be  served  more  acceptably ;  which  he  not  approv- 
ing, but  continuing  to  observe  order  and  decent  behaviour  in  read- 
ing the  church  service,  they  forced  his  book  from  him,  and  tore 
it !,  expecting  extemporary  prayers. 

At  this  time  he  was  advised  by  a  parliament-man  of  power  and 
note,  that  loved  and  valued  him  much,  not  to  be  strict  in  reading 
all  the  common  prayer,  but  to  make  some  little  variation,  especially 

•  Thucydides. 

1  Tore  it.]  "  And  yet  this  excellent  book  hath  had  the  fate  to  be  cut  in 
pieces  with  a  pen-knife,  and  thrown  into  the  fire ;  but  it  is  not  consumed. 
At  first  it  was  sown  in  tears,  and  is  now  watered  with  tears :  yet  never  was 
any  holy  thing  drowned  and  extinguished  with  tears.  It  began  with  the 
martyrdom  of  the  compilers ;  and  the  church  hath  been  vexed  ever  since  by 
angry  spirits,  and  she  was  forced  to  defend  it  with  much  trouble  and  un- 
quietness.  But  it  is  to  be  hoped,  that  all  these  storms  are  sent  but  to  in- 
crease the  zeal  and  confidence  of  the  pious  sons  of  the  church  of  England. 
Indeed  the  greatest  danger  that  ever  the  Common  Prayer  book  had,  was  the 
indifferency  and  indevotion  of  them  that  used  it  but  as  a  common  blessing  : 
and  they  who  thought  it  fit  for  the  meanest  of  the  clergy  to  read  prayers,  and 
for  themselves  only  to  preach,  though  they  might  innocently  intend  it,  yet 
did  not  in  that  action  consult  the  honour  of  our  liturgy,  except  where  charity 
or  necessity  did  interpose.  But  when  excellent  things  go  away,  and  thrn 
look  back  upon  us,  as  our  blessed  Saviour  did  upon  St.  Peter,  we  are  more 
moved  than  by  the  nearer  embraces  of  a  full  and  actual  possession.  I  pray 
God  it  may  prove  so  in  our  case,  and  that  we  may  not  be  too  willing  to  be 
discouraged  ;  at  least  that  we  may  not  cease  to  love  and  to  desire  what  is  not 
publicly  permitted  to  our  practice  and  profession."  Bp.  Taylor's  Preface  to 
his  Apology  for  authorized  and  set  forms  of  Liturgy,  at  the  end. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  447 

if  the  soldiers  came  to  watch  him ;  for  if  he  did,  it  might  not  be 
in  the  power  of  him  and  his  other  friends  to  secure  him  from 
taking  the  covenant,  or  sequestration :  for  which  reasons  he  did 
vary  somewhat 2  from  the  strict  rules  of  the  rubrick.  I  will  set 

2  Did  vary  somewhat."]  In  a  long  letter,  subjoined  to  the  first  edition  of 
this  life,  under  the  title  of  Bishop  Sanderson's  Judgment  concerning  Submis- 
sion to  Usurpers,  a  full  account  is  given  of  his  manner  of  performing  the 
whole  public  service  of  the  church  :  which  was  in  every  respect  studiously 
conformed,  as  much  as  the  times  would  bear,  to  the  English  liturgy  :  and  the 
letter  is  further  exceedingly  valuable  as  containing  a  vindication  of  the  extent 
to  which  he  submitted,  as  a  point  of  conscience  to  the  usurping  powers,  with- 
out abandoning  his  ministerial  duties,  and  without  persisting,  to  his  own 
destruction,  in  the  usage  of  the  entire  liturgy,  then  forbidden,  as  we  have 
seen,  under  the  severest  penalties.  A  similar  practice  was  very  generally 
followed  by  the  loyal  clergy.  Mr.  Bull,  afterwards  the  celebrated  bishop  of 
St.  David's,  occasionally  resorted  to  another  expedient.  "  He  was  sent  for  to 
baptize  the  child  of  a  dissenter  in  his  parish  ;  upon  which  occasion  he  made 
use  of  the  office  of  baptism,  as  prescribed  by  the  church  of  England,  which 
he  had  got  entirely  by  heart  j  and  he  went  through  it  with  so  much  readiness 
and  freedom,  and  yet  with  so  much  gravity  and  devotion,  and  gave  that  life 
and  spirit  to  all  that  he  delivered,  that  the  whole  audience  was  extremely 
affected  with  his  performance  :  and  notwithstanding  that  he  used  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  yet,  they  were  so  ignorant  of  the  offices  of  the  church,  that  they 
did  not  thereby  discover  that  it  was  the  Common  Prayer.  But  after  that  he 
had  concluded  that  holy  action,  the  father  of  the  child  returned  him  a  great 
many  thanks,  intimating  at  the  same  time,  with  how  much  greater  edification 
they  prayed,  who  entirely  depended  upon  the  Spirit  of  God  for  his  assist- 
ance in  their  extempore  effusions,  than  those  did  who  tied  themselves  up  to 
premeditated  forms ;  and  that  if  he  had  not  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  that 
badge  of  popery,  as  he  called  it,  no  body  could  have  formed  the  least  objec- 
tion against  his  excellent  prayers.  Upon  which  Mr.  Bull,  hoping  to  recover 
him  from  his  ill-grounded  prejudices,  shewed  him  the  office  of  baptism  in  the 
liturgy,  wherein  was  contained  every  prayer  which  he  had  offered  up  to  God 
on  that  occasion  ;  which,  with  farther  arguments  that  he  then  urged,  so 
effectually  wrought  upon  the  good  man  and  his  whole  family,  that  they  always 
after  that  time  frequented  the  parish  church,  and  never  more  absented  them- 
selves from  Mr.  Bull's  communion.  From  whence  we  may  reasonably  con- 
clude, that  as  a  mistaken  zeal  may  throw  contempt  upon  what  justly  deserves 
to  be  admired ;  so  also,  that  gravity,  seriousness,  and  devotion,  in  reading 
the  prayers  are  necessary  to  secure  that  respect  to  the  liturgy  which  its  own 
excellency  requireth  from  us."  Life  of  Bishop  Bull,  by  Robert  Nelson,  Esq., 
p.  39,  edit.  2. 

"  I  have  observed,"  says  Dr.  Nicholas  Bernard,  in  his  Clam  Trabales,  p.  59* 
(A.D.  1661.)  "that  some  who  had  so  great  a  prejudice  to  the  liturgy,  as  to 
run  out  of  the  church,  when  it  was  offered  to  be  read  out  of  the  book,  when 
I  used  the  very  same  form  in  several  administrations  by  heart,  without  the 
book, — baptism,  communion,  matrimony,  burial,  and  the  like,  they  have 


448  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

down  the  very  words  of  confession  which  he  used,  as  I  have  it 
under  his  own  hand ;  and  tell  the  reader  that  all  his  other  varia- 
tions were  as  little  and  very  much  like  to  this. 

His  Confession. 

"  0  Almighty  God  and  merciful  Father,  we  thy  unworthy  ser- 
vants do  with  shame  and  sorrow  confess,  that  we  have  all  our  life 
long  gone  astray  out  of  thy  ways  like  lost  sheep ;  and  that  by 
following  too  much  the  vain  devices  and  desires  of  our  own  hearts 
we  have  grievously  offended  against  thy  holy  laws,  both  in  thought, 
word,  and  deed ;  we  have  many  times  left  undone  those  good 
duties,  which  we  might  and  ought  to  have  done ;  and  we  have 
many  times  done  those  evils,  when  we  might  have  avoided  them, 
which  we  ought  not  to  have  done.  We  confess,  O  Lord,  that 
there  is  no  health  at  all,  nor  help  in  any  creature  to  relieve  us ; 
but  all  our  hope  is  in  thy  mercy  ;  whose  justice  we  have  by  our 
sins  so  far  provoked :  have  mercy  therefore  upon  us,  0  Lord, 
have  mercy  upon  us  miserable  offenders  :  spare  us,  good  God,  who 
confess  our  faults,  that  we  perish  not ;  but  according  to  thy  gracious 
promises  declared  unto  mankind  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,  restore 
us  upon  our  true  repentance  into  thy  grace  and  favour.  And 
grant,  0  most  merciful  Father,  for  his  sake,  that  we  henceforth 
study  to  serve  and  please  thee  by  leading  a  godly,  righteous,  and  a 
sober  life,  to  the  glory  of  thy  holy  name,  and  the  eternal  comfort 
of  our  own  souls,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen." 

In  these  and  other  provocations  of  tearing  his  service-book,  a 
neighbour  came  on  a  Sunday,  after  the  evening  service  was  ended, 
to  visit  and  condole  with  him  for  the  affront  offered  by  the  soldi'.  TS. 
To  whom  he  spake  with  a  composed  patience,  and  said ;  "  God 
hath  restored  me  to  my  desired  privacy,  with  my  wife  and  children, 
where  I  hoped  to  have  met  with  quietness,  and  it  proves  not  so  ; 
but  I  will  labour  to  be  pleased,  because  God,  on  whom  I  depend, 
sees  it  is  not  fit  for  me  to  be  quiet.  I  praise  him  that  lie  hath 
liy  liis  grace  prevented  me  from  making  shipwreck  of  a  good  con- 
science to  maintain  me  in  a  place  b  of  great  reputation  and  profit : 

highly  commended  it,  as  conceiving  they  had  been  my  own  present  concep- 
tions." 

b  Doctor  of  the  chair. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  449 

and  though  my  condition  be  such,  that  I  need  the  last,  yet  I  sub- 
mit :  for  God  did  not  send  me  into  this  world  to  do  my  own,  but 
suffer  his  will ;  and  I  will  obey  it."  Thus  by  a  sublime  depending 
on  his  wise  and  powerful,  and  pitiful  Creator,  he  did  cheerfully 
submit  to  what  God  had  appointed  ;  still  justifying  the  truth  of 
that  doctrine  and  the  reason  of  that  discipline  which  he  had 
preached. 

About  this  time  that  excellent  book  of  the  king's  Meditations 
in  Ms  Solitude  was  printed,  and  made  public  ;  and  Dr.  Sanderson 
was  such  a  lover  of  the  author,  and  so  desirous  that  not  this 
nation  only,  but  the  whole  world  should  see  the  character  of  him 
in  that  book,  and  something  of  the  cause  for  which  he  and  many 
others  then  suffered,  that  he  designed  to  turn  it  into  Latin ;  but 
when  he  had  done  half  of  it  most  excellently,  his  friend  Dr.  Earle 
prevented  him,  by  appearing  to  have  done  it,  and  printed  the 
whole  very  well  before  him. 

And  about  this  time  his  dear  and  most  intimate  friend,  the 
learned  Dr.  Hammond,  came  to  enjoy  a  quiet  conversation  and 
rest  with  him  for  some  days  at  Boothby  Pannel,  and  did  so.  And 
having  formerly  persuaded  him  to  trust  his  excellent  memory, 
and  not  read,  but  try  to  speak  a  sermon  as  he  had  writ  it ;  Dr. 
Sanderson  became  so  compliant  as  to  promise  he  would.  And 
to  that  end  they  two  went  early  the  Sunday  following  to  a  neigh- 
bour minister,  and  requested  to  exchange  a  sermon ;  and  they 
did  so.  And  at  Dr.  Sanderson's  going  into  the  pulpit,  he  gave 
his  sermon  (which  was  a  very  short  one)  into  the  hands  of  Dr. 
Hammond,  intending  to  preach  it  as  it  was  writ ;  but  before  he 
had  preached  a  third  part,  Dr.  Hammond  (looking  on  his  sermon 
as  written)  observed  him  to  be  out,  and  so  lost  as  to  the  matter, 
especially  the  method,  that  he  also  became  afraid  for  him :  for  it 
was  discernible  to  many  of  that  plain  auditory.  But  when  he 
had  ended  this  short  sermon,  as  they  two  walked  homeward,  Dr. 
Sanderson  said  with  much  earnestness,  "  Good  doctor,  give  me 
my  sermon,  and  know,  that  neither  you,  nor  any  man  living,  shall 
ever  persuade  me  to  preach  again  without  my  books."  To  which 
the  reply  was,  "  Good  doctor,  be  not  angry ;  for  if  ever  I  persuade 
you  to  preach  again  without  book,  I  will  give  you  leave  to  burn 
all  the  books  that  I  am  master  of." 

Part  of  the  occasion  of  Dr.  Hammond's  visit  was  at  this  time, 
to  discourse  Dr.  Sanderson  about  some  opinions,  in  which  if  they 
did  not  then,  they  had  doubtless  differed  formerly ;  it  was  about 

VOL. iv.  G  g 


450  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

those  knotty  points,  which  are  by  the  learned  called  the  quinquar- 
ticular  controversy;  of  which  I  shall  proceed,  not  to  give  any 
judgment  (I  pretend  not  to  that)  but  some  short  historical 
account  which  shall  follow. 

There  had  been,  since  the  unhappy  covenant  was  brought,  and 
so  generally  taken  in  England,  a  liberty  given  or  taken  by  many 
preachers  (those  of  London  especially)  to  preach  and  be  too  posi- 
tive in  the  points  of  universal  redemption,  predestination,  and 
those  other  depending  upon  these.  Some  of  which  preached 
"  That  all  men  were,  before  they  came  into  this  world,  so  pre- 
destinated to  salvation  or  damnation,  that  it  was  not  in  their 
power  to  sin  so,  as  to  lose  the  first,  nor  by  their  most  diligent 
endeavour  to  avoid  the  latter."  Others,  "  That  it  was  not  so ; 
because  then  God  could  not  be  said  to  grieve  for  the  death  of  a 
sinner,  when  he  himself  had  made  him  so  by  an  inevitable  decree, 
before  he  had  so  much  as  a  being  in  this  world ;"  affirming  there- 
fore, "  that  man  had  some  power  left  him  to  do  the  will  of  God, 
because  he  was  advised  to  work  out  his  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling ;"  maintaining,  "  that  it  is  most  certain  every  man  can 
do  what  he  can  to  be  saved  ;  and  as  certain  that  he  that  docs 
what  he  can  to  be  saved,  shall  never  be  damned :"  and  yet  many 
that  affirmed  this  to  be  a  truth,  would  yet  confess,  "  That  that 
grace,  which  is  but  a  persuasive  offer,  and  left  to  us  to  receive  or 
refuse,  is  not  that  grace  which  shall  bring  men  to  heaven." 
Which  truths,  or  untruths,  or  both,  be  they  which  they  will,  did 
upon  these  or  the  like  occasions  come  to  be  searched  into,  and 
charitably  debated  betwixt  Dr.  Sanderson,  Dr.  Hammond,  and 
Dr.  Pierce  (the  now  reverend  dean  of  Salisbury)  of  which  I  shall 
proceed  to  give  some  account,  but  briefly. 

In  the  year  1648,  the  52  London  ministers  (then  a  fraternity 
of  Sion  college  in  that  city)  had  in  a  printed  declaration  asp* 
Dr.  Hammond  most  heinously,  for  that  he  had  in  his  Prac' 
Catechism  affirmed,  "  That  our  Saviour  died  for  the  sins  of  all 
mankind."  To  justify  which  truth,  he  presently  makes  a  cha- 
ritable reply  (as  it  is  now  printed  in  his  works).  After  which 
there  were  many  letters  passed  betwixt  the  said  Dr.  Hammond, 
Dr.  Sanderson,  and  Dr.  Pierce,  concerning  God's  grace  and 
decrees.  Dr.  Sanderson  was  with  much  unwillingness  drawn  into 
this  debate,  for  he  declared  it  would  prove  uneasy  to  him.  who  in 
his  judgment  of  God's  decrees  differed  with  Dr.  Hammond  (whom 
he  reverenced  and  loved  dearly)  and  would  not  therefor* 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  451 

himself  in  a  controversy,  of  which  he  could  never  hope  to  see  an 
end :  nevertheless  they  did  all  enter  into  a  charitable  disquisition 
of  these  said  points  in  several  letters,  to  the  full  satisfaction  of 
the  learned  ;  those  betwixt  Dr.  Sanderson  and  Dr.  Hammond 
being  now  printed  in  his  works ;  and  for  what  past  betwixt  him 
and  the  learned  Dr.  Pierce,  I  refer  my  reader  to  a  letter  sent  to 
me  and  annexed  to  the  end  of  this  relation. 

I  think  the  judgment  of  Dr.  Sanderson  was  by  these  debates 
altered  from  what  it  was  at  his  entrance  into  them ;  for  in  the 
year  1632,  when  his  excellent  sermons  were  first  printed  in 
quarto,  the  reader  may  on  the  margent  find  some  accusation  of 
Arminius  for  false  doctrine ;  and  find,  that  upon  a  review  and 
reprinting  those  sermons  in  folio  in  the  year  1657,  that  accusa- 
tion of  Arminius  is  omitted.  And  the  change  of  his  judgment 
seems  more  fully  to  appear  in  his  said  letter  to  Dr.  Pierce.  And 
let  me  now  tell  the  reader,  which  may  seem  to  be  perplexed  with 
these  several  affirmations  of  God's  decrees  before  mentioned,  that 
Dr.  Hammond,  in  a  postscript  to  the  last  letter  of  his  to  Dr. 
Sanderson,  says,  "  God  can  reconcile  his  own  contradictions, 
and  therefore  advises  all  men,  as  the  apostle  does,  to  study  mor- 
tification, and  be  wise  to  sobriety."  And  let  me  add  further, 
that  if  these  52  ministers  of  Sion  college  were  the  occasion  of  the 
debates  in  these  letters,  they  have,  I  think,  been  the  occasion  of 
giving  an  end  to  the  quinquarticular  controversy ;  for  none  have 
since  undertaken  to  say  more ;  but  seem  to  be  so  wise,  as  to  be 
content  to  be  ignorant  of  the  rest,  till  they  come  to  that  place, 
where  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open.  And  let  me 
here  tell  the  reader  also,  that  if  the  rest  of  mankind  would,  as 
Dr.  Sanderson,  not  conceal  their  alteration  of  judgment3,  but 

3  Their  alteration  of  judgment."]  Another  very  eminent  contemporary, 
whose  sentiments  concerning  the  Calvinistical  points  appear  to  have  under- 
gone, at  a  much  later  period  of  his  life,  a  change  very  similar  to  that  which 
took  place  in  those  of  his  friend  Dr.  Sanderson,  was  the  truly  pious  and 
primitive  archbishop  Usher :  who  had  often  exerted  herself  as  an  earnest 
and  public  advocate  and  propagator  of  those  notions,  which  he  latterly 
disclaimed. 

"  To  your  queries "  (says  Dr.  Hammond  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Peter  Stani- 
nough,  dated  June  12,  1657)  "  all  that  I  have  to  return  is,  first,  that  that 
bishop  did  for  many  years  acknowledge  universal  redemption,  but  that  with 
a  distinction  of  non  ex  cequo  pro  omnibus. — Secondly,  that  a  little  before  his 
leaving  London  (I  was  told  it  by  some  that  heard  him  about  this  time  two 
years)  at  St.  Peter's  Paul-wharf,  as  also  in  several  other  places,  he  preached 

Gg2 


452  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

confess  it  to  the  honour  of  God  and  themselves ;  then,  our  nation 
would  become  freer  from  pertinacious  disputes,  and  fuller  of 
recantations. 

a  sermon,  which  himself  called  a  soul-saving  sermon,  on  Rom.  viii.  30.  part 
of  the  verse,  whom  he  called  them  he  justified,  in  which  he  earnestly  pressed 
the  sincerity  of  God's  universal  call  to  every  one  of  all  sinners  to  whom  the 
Gospel  was  preached  :  pressing  throughout  all  his  sermon  the  universal  free 
invitation  of  all  by  God.  Apocal.  xxii.  17,  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the 
water  of  life  freely  ;  Isaiah  Iv.  1,  7,  Ho!  every  one  that  thirst  eth,  come  ye 
to  the  waters.  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his 
thoughts  ,•  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him  ; 
and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon :  adding,  that  without  this  made 
good,  all  preaching  to  convert  sinners,  as  yet  in  their  sins  from  the  evil  of  their 
ways,  would  want  a  firm  foundation. 

"  Thirdly,  that  a  learned  divine  going  after  this  to  him,  and  taking  rise 
from  these  words  of  his,  that  God  intended  truly  that  all  whom  he  called  by  the 
word  to  repent  and  believe,  might  certainly  if  they  would,  and  God  truly  would 
they  should,  come  and  repent,  Sfc.  to  ask,  Can  they  all  will?  Doth  God,  with 
his  word,  give  internal  grace  to  all  that  are  called  by  it,  that  they  may  repent , 
fyc.  if  they  will ;  and  that  they  certainly  can  will?  He  answered,  Yes,  they 
all  can  will.  And  that  so  many  wm  not,  'tis  because^  as  I  then  taught,  they 
resist  God's  grace;  alledging,  Acts  vii.  51,  Ye  stiff-necked  and  uncircum- 
cised  in  heart  and  ears,  ye  do  always  resist  the  Holy  Ghost :  as  your 
fathers  did,  so  do  ye.  This  and  much  more  he  then  declared ;  and  in  fine 
concluded  in  these  words,  Bishop  Overal  was  in  the  right,  and  I  am  of  his 
mind. 

"  Fourthly.  A  learned  doctor  that  was  frequently  with  the  bishop,  wrote 
Mr.  Pierce  word  (as  he  wrote  me,  on  my  asking  him  the  same  question 
which  you  do  me)  that  that  bishop  told  him  lately  before  his  death  that  he 
wholly  disliked  the  Genevan  form  of  doctrine  in  this  matter.  This  is  all  that 
hath  come  within  my  reach  of  your  first  question."  See  Nineteen  Letters  of 
the  rev.  Henry  Hammond,  D.  D.  now  first  published  from  the  originals  by 
Francis  Peck,  M.A.  London,  1739,  8vo.  p.  17. 

The  testimonies  and  certificates  of  Dr.  Brian  Walton,  Mr.  Peter  Gunning, 
and  Mr.  Herbert  Thorndike,  of  which  the  above  extract  is  the  sum,  are  pub- 
lished in  full  length  by  Dr.  Thomas  Pierce ;  in  an  Appendix  to  the  Self- 
revenger  exemplified  in  Mr.  William  Barlee;  London,  1658,  4to.  p.  155 — 7. 
See  also  Baxter's  Lifef  (Silvester's)  part  2,  p.  206,  §  61,  and  Smith's  Vita 
Usserii,  p.  113,  114.  A.D.  1707,  4to.  A  similar  change  of  sentiment  is  re- 
corded of  themselves  by  the  above-mentioned  Dr.  Thomas  Pierce,  by  Dr. 
Thomas  Jackson,  Dr.  Daniel  Whitby,  and  many  others. 

But  especially,  the  reader  will  be  gratified  by  the  grave,  solemn,  and 
pious  narrative  to  that  effect  related  by  Dr.  Christopher  Potter,  dean  of 
Windsor,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Vicars,  republished  at  Cambridge  in  the  year 
1719,  in  a  very  valuable  Collection  of  Tracts  concerning  Predestination  and 
Providence.  Having  been  taxed  by  his  friend  with  the  desertion  of  his 
former  principles,  and  the  charge  being  coupled  with  an  insinuation,  that 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  453 

I  am  not  willing  to  lead  my  reader  to  Dr.  Hammond  and  Dr. 
Sanderson  where  we  left  them  together  at  Boothby  Pannel,  till  I 

this  change  was  brought  about  by  court-influence,  and  put  on  to  please 
abp.  Laud,  &c.,  "  It  appears,"  (says  he)  "  by  the  whole  tenour  of  your 
letter,  that  you  are  affected  with  a  strong  suspicion,  that  I  am  turned  Armi- 
nian ;  and  you  further  guess  at  the  motive,  that  some  sprinkling  of  court 
holy-water,  like  an  exorcism  hath  enchanted  and  conjured  me  into  this  new 
shape.  How  loth  am  I  to  understand  your  meaning  !  And  how  fain  would 
I  put  a  fair  interpretation  upon  those  foul  passages,  if  they  were  capable  ! 
What  man !  not  an  Arminian  only,  but  hired  into  that  faith  by  carnal  hopes  ! 
one  that  can  value  his  soul  at  so  poor  a  rate,  as  to  sell  it  to  the  times,  or 
weigh  or  sway  his  conscience  with  money  !  My  good  friend,  how  did  you 
thus  forget  me,  and  yourself?  and  the  strict  charge  of  our  Master,  Judge 
not  ?  Well ;  you  have  my  pardon  :  and  God  Almighty  confirm  it  unto  you 
with  his  !  But  to  prevent  you  error  and  sin  in  this  kind  hereafter,  I  desire 
you  to  believe  that  I  neither  am,  nor  ever  will  be  Arminian.  I  am  resolved 
to  stand  fast  in  that  liberty,  which  my  Lord  hath  so  dearly  bought  for  me. 
In  divine  truths,  my  conscience  cannot  serve  men,  or  any  other  master 
besides  him  who  hath  his  chair  in  Heaven.  I  love  Calvin  very  well :  and  I 
must  tell  you,  I  cannot  hate  Arminius.  And  for  my  part,  I  am  verily  per- 
suaded that  these  two  are  now  where  they  agree  well,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven ;  whilst  some  of  their  passionate  disciples  are  so  eagerly  brawling 

here  on  earth. But  because  you  are  my  friend,  I  will  yet  farther 

reveal  myself  unto  you.  I  have  laboured  long  and  diligently  in  these  con- 
troversies, and  I  will  tell  you  with  what  mind  and  method,  and  with  what 
success. 

"  For  some  years  in  my  youth,  when  I  was  most  ignorant,  I  was  most  con- 
fident :  before  I  knew  the  true  state,  or  any  grounds  of  those  questions,  I 
could  peremptorily  resolve  them  all.  And  upon  every  occasion,  in  the  very 
pulpit,  I  was  girding  and  railing  upon  these  new  heretics,  the  Arminians, 
and  I  could  not  find  words  enough  to  decipher  the  folly  and  absurdity  of 
their  doctrine  :  especially  I  abhorred  them  as  venomous  enemies  of  the  pre- 
cious grace  of  God,  whereof  I  ever  was,  and  ever  will  be  most  jealous  and 
tender,  as  I  am  most  obliged,  holding  all  I  am,  or  have,  or  hope  for,  by  that 
glorious  grace.  Yet  all  this  while,  I  took  all  this  that  I  talked  upon  trust, 
and  knew  not  what  they  (the  Arminians)  said  or  thought,  but  by  relation 
from  others,  and  from  their  enemies.  And  because  my  conscience  in  secret 
would  often  tell  me,  that  railing  would  not  carry  it  in  matters  of  religion, 
without  reason  and  divine  authority;  that  I  might  now  solidly  maintain 
God's  truth,  as  it  becomes  a  minister,  out  of  God's  word,  and  clearly  vindi- 
cate it  from  wicked  exceptions ;  and  that  I  might  not  only  revile  and  scratch 
the  adversary,  but  beat,  and  wound  him,  and  fight  it  out,  fortibus  armis,  non 
solum  fulgentibus,  I  betook  myself  seriously  and  earnestly  to  peruse  the 
writings  of  both  parties;  and  to  observe  and  balance  the  Scriptures  pro- 
duced for  both  parties.  But  my  aim  in  this  inquiry  was  not  to  inform 
myself  whether  I  held  the  truth,  (for  therein  I  was  extremely  confident, 
presuming  it  was  with  US,  and  reading  the  opposers  with  prejudice  and 


454  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

have  looked  back  to  the  long  parliament,  the  society  of  cove- 
nanters in  Sion  college,  and  those  others  scattered  up  and  down 


detestation,)  but  the  better  to  fortify  our  tenets  against  their  cavils  and 
subtilties. 

"In  the  mean  while,  knowing  that  all  light  and  illumination  in  divine 
mysteries,  descends  from  above  from  the  Father  and  Fountain  of  all  light, 
without  whose  influence  and  instruction  all  our  studies  are  most  vain  and 
•frivolous ;  I  resolved  constantly  and  daily  to  solicit  my  gracious  God,  with 
most  ardent  supplications,  as  I  shall  still  continue,  that  he  would  be  pleased 
to  keep  his  poor  servant  in  his  true  faith  and  fear ;  that  he  would  preserve 
me  from  all  false  and  dangerous  errors,  how  specious  or  plausible  soever ; 
that  he  would  fill  my  heart  with  true  holiness  and  humility  j  empty  it  of  all 
pride,  vain-glory,  curiosity,  ambition,  and  all  other  carnal  conceits  and  affec- 
tions, which  usually  blind  and  pervert  the  judgment ;  that  he  would  give  me 
the  grace  to  renounce  and  deny  my  foolish  reason  in  those  holy  studies, 
and  teach  me  absolutely  to  captivate  my  thoughts  to  the  obedience  of  his 
heavenly  word  ;  finally,  that  he  would  not  permit  me  to  speak  or  think  any 
thing,  but  what  were  consonant  to  his  Scriptures,  honourable  and  glorious  to 
his  majesty. 

"  I  dare  never  look  upon  my  books,  till  I  have  first  looked  up  to  heaven 
with  these  prayers.  Thus  I  begin,  thus  I  continue,  and  thus  conclude  my 
studies.  In  my  search,  my  first  and  last  resolution  was,  and  is,  to  believe 
only  what  the  Lord  tells  me  in  his  book :  and  because  all  men  are  liars,  and 
the  most  of  men  factious,  to  mark  not  what  they  say,  but  what  they  prove. 
Though  I  must  confess,  I  much  favoured  my  own  side,  and  read  what  was 
written  against  it  with  exceeding  indignation ;  especially  when  I  was  pinched, 
and  found  many  objections  to  which  I  could  find  no  answers.  Yet  in  spite 
of  my  judgment,  my  conscience  stood  as  it  could  :  and  still  multiplying  my 
prayers,  and  recurring  to  my  oracle,  I  repelled  such  thoughts  as  temptations. 
—Well ;  in  this  perplexity  I  went  on ;  and  first  observed  the  judgments  of 
this  age,  since  the  reformation.  And  here  I  found  in  the  very  harmony  of 
the  confessions  some  little  discord  in  these  opinions,  but  generally,  and 
the  most  part  of  our  reformed  churches  favouring  the  remonstrants :  and 
among  particular  writers,  many  here  differing  in  judgments,  though  nearly 
linked  in  affection,  and  all  of  them  eminent  for  learning  and  piety ;  and 
being  all  busied  against  the  common  adversary,  the  church  of  Rome,  these 
little  differences  amongst  themselves  were  wisely  neglected  and  concealed. 
At  length,  some  of  our  own  gave  occasion,  I  fear,  to  these  intestine  and 
woeful  wars,  letting  fall  some  speeches  very  scandalous,  and  which  cannot  be 
maintained.  This  first  put  the  Lutheran  churches  in  a  fresh  alarm  against 
us,  and  imbittered  their  hatred :  and  now,  that  which  was  but  a  question,  is 
made  a  quarrel ;  that  which  before  was  fairly  and  sweetly  debated  between 
private  doctors,  is  now  become  an  appeal  to  contention  between  whole 
reformed  churches,  they  in  one  army,  we  in  the  other.  But  still  the  most 
wise  and  holy  in  both  parties  desired  a  peace,  and  ceased  not  to  cry 
with  tears,  Sir*,  ye  are  brethren,  why  do  ye  $trive?  and  with  all  their 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  455 

in  London,  and  given  some  account  of  their  proceedings  and 
usage  of  the  late  learned  Dr.  Laud,  then  archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, whose  life  seemed  to  be  sacrificed  to  appease  the  popular 
fury  of  that  present  time.  And  though  I  will  forbear  to  mention 
the  injustice  of  his  death,  and  the  barbarous  usage  of  him,  both 
at  his  trial  and  before  it ;  yet  my  desire  is,  that  what  follows  may 

power  laboured  that  both  the  armies  might  be  joined  under  the  Prince  of 
Peace. 

"But  whilst  these  laboured  for  peace,  there  never  wanted  some  eager 
spirits,  that  made  all  ready  for  war ;  and  whose  nails  were  still  itching  till 
they  were  in  the  wounds  of  the  church  ;  for  they  could  not  believe  they  had 
any  zeal,  unless  they  were  furious ;  nor  any  faith,  unless  they  wanted  all 
charity.  And  by  the  wicked  diligence  of  these  Boutefeus,  that  small  spark, 
which  at  first  a  little  moderation  might  have  quenched,  hath  now  set  us  all  in 
a  woeful  fire,  worthy  to  be  lamented  with  tears  of  blood. 

— "  But  now  you  long  to  hear,  what  is  the  issue  of  all  my  study  and 
inquiry ;  what  my  resolution.  Why,  you  may  easily  conjecture.  Finding 
upon  this  serious  search,  that  all  doubts  are  not  clearly  decided  by  Scripture  ; 
that  in  the  ancient  church,  after  the  age  of  St.  Augustine,  who  was  presently 
contradicted  by  many  catholics,  as  you  may  see  in  the  epistles  of  Prosper 
and  Fulgentius  to  him  upon  that  very  occasion,  they  have  ever  been  friendly 
debated,  and  never  determined  in  any  council ;  that  in  our  age,  whole 
churches  are  here  divided,  either  from  one  another,  as  the  Lutherans  from 
us;  or  amongst  themselves,  as  the  Romanists,  among  whom  the  Domi- 
nican family  is  wholly  for  the  contra-remonstrants  ;  that  in  all  these  several 
churches,  some  particular  doctors  vary  in  these  opinions  :  out  of  all  this  I 
collect,  for  my  part,  that  these  points  are  no  necessary  catholic  verities,  not 
essential  to  the  faith,  but  merely  matters  of  opinion,  problematical,  of  inferior 
moment,  wherein  a  man  may  err,  or  be  ignorant  without  danger  to  his  soul ; 
yet  so  still,  that  the  glory  of  God's  justice,  mercy,  truth,  sincerity,  and  divine 
grace  be  not  any  ways  blemished,  nor  any  good  ascribed  to  man's  corrupt 
will,  or  any  evil  to  God's  decree  of  Providence ;  wherein  I  can  assure  you  I 
do  not  depart  from  my  ancient  judgment,  but  do  well  remember  what  I 
affirmed  in  my  questions  at  the  act,  and  have  confirmed  it,  I  suppose,  in  my 
Sermon.  So  you  see,  I  am  still  where  I  was.  If  I  can  clearly  discover  any 
error  or  corruption  in  myself,  or  any  other,  I  should  hate  it  with  all  my 
might :  but,  pity,  support,  and  love  all  that  love  the  Lord  Jesus,  though 
they  err  in  doubtful  points ;  but  never  break  charity,  unless  with  him  that 
obstinately  errs  in  fundamentals,  or  is  wilfully  factious.  And  with  this 
moderation  I  dare  with  confidence  and  comfort  enough  appear  before  my 
Lord  at  the  last  day,  when  I  fear  what  will  become  of  him  that  loves  not 
his  brother,  that  divine  precept  of  love  being  so  often  ingeminated ;  why 
may  I  not,  when  the  Lord  himself  hath  assured  me  by  his  Beati  Pacifici  ? 
You  tell  me  of  a  dean  that  should  say,  Maledicti  Pacifici ;  but  you  and  he 
shall  give  me  leave  in  this  contradiction,  rather  to  believe  my  Saviour." 
Tracts,  p.  230,  &c. 


456  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

be  noted,  because  it  does  now,  or  may  hereafter  concern  us ;  that 
is,  to  note,  that  in  his  last  sad  sermon  on  the  scaffold  at  his  death, 
he  did  (as  our  blessed  Saviour  advised  his  disciples, )  pray  for  those 
that  persecuted  and  despitefully  used  him.  And  not  only  pardoned 
those  enemies ;  but  dispassionately  begged  of  Almighty  God  that 
he  would  also  pardon  them ;  and  besought  all  the  present  be- 
holders of  this  sad  sight,  that  they  would  pardon  and  pray  for 
him.  But  though  he  did  all  this,  yet,  he  seemed  to  accuse  the 
magistrates  of  the  city,  for  not  suppressing  a  sort  of  people  whose 
malicious  and  furious  zeal  had  so  far  transported  them,  and  vio- 
lated all  modesty,  that  though  they  could  not  know  whether  he 
were  justly  or  unjustly  condemned,  were  yet  suffered  to  go  visibly 
up  and  down  to  gather  hands  to  a  petition,  that  the  parliament 
would  hasten  his  execution.  And  he  having  declared  how  unjustly 
he  thought  himself  to  be  condemned,  and  accused  for  endeavour- 
ing to  bring  in  popery  (for  that  was  one  of  the  accusations  for 
which  he  died)  he  declared  with  sadness,  "  That  the  several  sects 
and  divisions  then  in  England "  (which  he  had  laboured  to  pre- 
vent) "  were  now  like  to  bring  the  pope  a  far  greater  harvest, 
than  he  could  ever  have  expected  without  them."  And  said, 
"  these  sects  and  divisions  introduce  prophaneness  under  the  cloak 
of  an  imaginary  religion  ;"  and,  "  that  we  have  lost  the  substance 
of  religion  by  changing  it  into  opinion ;"  and,  "  that  by  these 
means  the  church  of  England,  which  all  the  Jesuits1  machina- 
tions could  not  ruin,  was  fallen  into  apparent  danger  by  those 
(covenanters)  which  were  his  accusers."  To  this  purpose  he 
spoke  at  his  death  :  for  which,  and  more  to  the  same  purpose, 
the  reader  may  view  his  last  sad  sermon  on  the  scaffold.  And  it 
is  here  mentioned,  because  his  dear  friend  Dr.  Sanderson  seems 
to  demonstrate  the  same  fear  of  popery  in  his  two  large  and 
remarkable  prefaces4  before  his  two  volumes  of  sermons;  ami 
seems  also  with  much  sorrow  to  say  the  same  again  in  his  last 
will,  made  when  he  was  and  apprehended  himself  to  be  very  near 
his  death.  And  these  covenanters  ought  to  take  notice  of  it ; 
and  to  remember,  that  by  the  late  wicked  war  begun  by  them, 
Dr.  Sanderson  was  ejected  out  of  the  professor's  chair  in  Oxford  ; 
and  that  if  he  had  continued  in  it  (for  he  lived  fourteen  years  ai 
both  tin-  learned  of  this  and  other  nations  had  been  made  happy 
by  many  ivmarkalile  cases  of  conscience,  so  rationally  stated,  and 

4  Remarkable  preface*.]  See  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iv.  p.  532 — 43,  and 
p.  544—86. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  457 

so  briefly,  so  clearly,  and  so  convincingly  determined,  that  poste- 
rity might  have  joyed  and  boasted,  that  Dr.  Sanderson  was  born 
in  this  nation,  for  the  ease  and  benefit  of  all  the  learned  that 
shall  be  born  after  him  :  but,  this  benefit  is  so  like  time  past, 
that  they  are  both  irrecoverably  lost. 

I  should  now  return  to  Boothby  Pannel,  where  we  left  Dr. 
Hammond  and  Dr.  Sanderson  together,  but  neither  can  now  be 
found  there  :  for,  the  first  was  in  his  journey  to  London,  and  the 
second  seized  upon  the  day  after  his  friend's  departure,  and  car- 
ried prisoner  to  Lincoln,  then  a  garrison  of  the  parliament's. 
For  the  pretended  reason  of  which  commitment,  I  shall  give  this 
following  account. 

There  was  one  Mr.  Clarke,  (the  minister  of  Alington,  a  town 
not  many  miles  from  Boothby  Pannel,)  who  was  an  active  man 
for  the  parliament  and  covenant ;  and  one  that,  when  Belvoire 
Castle  (then  a  garrison  for  the  parliament)  was  taken  by  a  party 
of  the  king's  soldiers,  was  taken  in  it,  and  made  a  prisoner  of 
war  in  Newark  (then  a  garrison  of  the  king's)  ;  a  man  so  active 
and  useful  for  his  party  that  they  became  so  much  concerned 
for  his  enlargement,  that  the  committee  of  Lincoln  sent  a  troop 
of  horse  to  seize  and  bring  Dr.  Sanderson  a  prisoner  to  that  gar- 
rison ;  and  they  did  so.  And  there  he  had  the  happiness  to 
meet  with  many  that  knew  him  so  well  as  to  reverence  and  treat 
him  kindly ;  but  told  him,  "  He  must  continue  their  prisoner, 
till  he  should  purchase  his  own  enlargement  by  procuring  an 
exchange  for  Mr.  Clarke,  then  prisoner  in  the  king's  garrison  of 
Newark."  There  were  many  reasons  given  by  the  doctor  of  the 
injustice  of  his  imprisonment,  and  the  inequality  of  the  exchange, 
but  all  were  uneffectual ;  for  done  it  must  be,  or  he  continue  a 
prisoner.  And  in  time  done  it  was  upon  the  following  conditions  : 

First,  That  Dr.  Sanderson  and  Mr.  Clarke  being  exchanged, 
should  live  undisturbed  at  their  own  parishes ;  and  if  either  were 
injured  by  the  soldiers  of  the  contrary  party,  the  other  having 
notice  of  it,  should  procure  him  a  redress,  by  having  satisfaction 
made  for  his  loss,  or  for  any  other  injury ;  or  if  not,  he  to  be 
used  in  the  same  kind  by  the  other  party.  Nevertheless,  Dr. 
Sanderson  could  neither  live  safe  nor  quietly,  being  several  times 
plundered,  and  once  wounded  in  three  places;  but  he,  appre- 
hending the  remedy  might  turn  to  a  more  intolerable  burthen  by 
impatience  or  complaining,  forbore  both  ;  and  possessed  his  soul 
in  a  contented  quietness,  without  the  least  repining.  But  though 


458  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

he  could  not  enjoy  the  safety  he  expected  by  this  exchange,  yet 
by  His  providence  that  can  bring  good  out  of  evil,  it  turned  so 
much  to  his  advantage,  that  whereas  his  living  had  been  seques- 
tered from  the  year  1 644,  and  continued  to  be  so  till  this  time  of 
his  imprisonment,  he,  by  the  articles  of  war  in  this  exchange  for 
Mr.  Clarke,  procured  his  sequestration  to  be  recalled,  and  by 
that  means  enjoyed  a  poor  but  more  contented  subsistence  for 
himself,  his  wife  and  children,  till  the  happy  restoration  of  our 
king  and  church. 

In  this  time  of  his  poor,  but  contented  privacy  of  life,  his 
casuistical  learning,  peaceful  moderation  and  sincerity,  became  so 
remarkable,  that  there  were  many  that  applied  themselves  to  him 
for  resolution  in  perplexed  cases  of  conscience  ;  some  known  to 
him,  and  many  not ;  some  requiring  satisfaction  by  conference, 
others  by  letters ;  so  many,  that  his  life  became  almost  as  rest- 
less as  their  minds  ;  yet,  as  St.  Paul  accounted  himself  a  debtor 
to  all  men,  so  he,  for  he  denied  none.  And  if  it  be  a  truth  which 
holy  Mr.  Herbert  says,  "  That  all  worldly  joys  seem  less,  when 
compared  with  shewing  mercy,  or  doing  kindnesses ;"  then  doubt- 
less this  Barnabas,  this  son  of  consolation,  Dr.  Sanderson,  might 
have  boasted  for  relieving  so  many  restless  and  wounded  con- 
sciences ;  which,  as  Solomon  says,  are  a  burden  that  none  can 
bear,  though  their  fortitude  may  sustain  their  other  calamities  : 
and  if  words  cannot  express  the  joy  of  a  conscience  relieu-»l 
from  such  restless  agonies,  then  Dr.  Sanderson  might  rejoice, 
that  so  many  were  by  him  so  clearly  and  conscientiously  satisfied ; 
and  would  often  praise  God  for  that  ability,  and  as  often  for  the 
occasion ;  and,  that  God  had  inclined  his  heart  to  do  it,  to  the 
meanest  of  any  of  those  poor,  but  precious  souls,  for  which  his 
Saviour  vouchsafed  to  be  crucified. 

Some  of  those  very  many  cases  that  were  resolved  by  letters, 
have  been  preserved  and  printed  for  the  benefit  of  posterity ;  as 
namely, 

1.  Of  the  sabbath. 

2.  Marrying  with  a  recusant. 

3.  Of  unlawful  love. 

4.  Of  a  military  life. 

5.  Of  scandal. 

6.  Of  a  bond  taken  in  the  king's  name. 

7.  Of  the  engagement. 

8.  Of  a  rash  vow. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  459 

But  many  more  remain  in  private  hands,  of  which  one  is  of 
simony ;  and  I  wish  the  world  might  see  it,  that  it  might  unde- 
ceive so  many  mistaken  patrons,  who  think  they  have  discharged 
that  great  and  dangerous  trust,  both  to  God  and  man,  if  they 
take  no  money  for  a  living,  though  it  may  be  parted  with  for  other 
ends  less  justifiable,  which  I  forbear  to  name. 

And  in  this  time  of  his  retirement,  when  the  common  people 
were  amazed  and  grown  restless  and  giddy  by  the  many  false- 
hoods, and  misapplications  of  truths  frequently  vented  in  sermons, 
when  they  wrested  the  Scripture  by  challenging  God  to  be  of 
their  party 5,  and  called  upon  him  in  their  prayers  to  patronize 
their  sacrilege  and  zealous  frenzies ;  in  this  time,  he  did  so  com- 
passionate the  generality  of  this  misled  nation,  that  though  the 
times  threatened  such  an  undertaking  with  danger  ;  yet  he  then 
hazarded  his  safety  by  writing  the  large  and  bold  preface  now 
extant  before  his  last  twenty  sermons  (first  printed  in  the  dan- 
gerous year  1 655)  :  in  which  there  was  such  strength  of  reason, 
with  so  powerful  and  clear  convincing  applications  made  to  the 
nonconformists,  as  being  read  by  one  of  those  dissenting  bre- 
thren, who  was  possessed  of  a  good  sequestered  living,  and  with 
it  such  a  spirit  of  covetousness  and  contradiction,  as  being  neither 
able  to  defend  his  error,  nor  yield  to  truth  manifested,  (his  con- 
science having  slept  long  and  quietly  in  that  living)  was  yet  at 
the  reading  of  it  so  awakened,  (for  there  is  a  divine  power  in 
reason)  that  after  a  conflict  with  the  reason  he  had  met,  and  the 
damage  he  was  to  sustain  if  he  consented  to  it  (and  being  still 
unwilling  to  be  so  convinced,  as  to  lose  by  being  over-reasoned) 
he  went  in  haste  to  the  bookseller  of  whom  it  was  bought,  threat- 
ened him  and  told  him  in  anger,  "  he  had  sold  a  book  in  which 
there  was  false  divinity ;  and  that  the  preface  had  upbraided  the 
parliament,  and  many  godly  ministers  of  that  party  for  unjust 
dealing."  To  which  his  reply  was,  (it  was  Tim.  Garthwaite) 

5  To  be  of  their  party, ,]  "  A  puritan  gossip  met  a  church-woman,  her 
neighbour,  one  morning  in  the  streets  of  Exeter.  '  Heark  you,  neighbour,' 
says  the  first,  *  do  you  hear  the  news  ?  Merchant  such-an-one  is  a  bankrupt, 
and  merchant  such-an-one,  the  churchman,  loses  ten  thousand  pounds  by 
the  break :  there  is  God's  judgment  for  you  :  the  merchant  was  ever  a  great 
scoffer  at  the  conventicle.5 — *  And  is  this  all  you  have  heard  ?'  said  the  other. 
<  Yes/ — '  Why  then  you  have  heard  but  half  the  news.  Mercer  such-an-one 
of  your  religion  has  lost  fifteen  hundred  pounds  by  this  break.5 — '  I  must 
confess,'  replied  the  first,  '  a  severe  trial.' " — Warburton's  Remarks  on  Neal's 
Hist,  of  the  Puritans  ;  Works,  vol.  xii.  p.  395. 


460  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

"  That  it  was  not  his  trade  to  judge  of  true  or  false  divinity, 
but  to  print  and  sell  books  ;  and  yet  if  he,  or  any  friend  of  his 
would  write  an  answer  to  it,  and  own  it  by  setting  his  name  to  it, 
he  would  print  the  answer,  and  promote  the  selling  of  it." 

About  the  time  of  his  printing  this  excellent  preface,  I  met 
him  accidentally  in  London  in  sad-coloured  cloaths,  and  God 
knows,  far  from  being  costly.  The  place  of  our  meeting  was 
near  to  Little  Britain,  where  he  had  been  to  buy  a  book,  which 
he  then  had  in  his  hand.  We  had  no  inclination  to  part  pre- 
sently ;  and  therefore  turned  to  stand  in  a  corner  under  a  pent- 
house (for  it  began  to  rain)  and  immediately  the  wind  rose,  and 
the  rain  increased  so  much,  that  both  became  so  inconvenient,  as 
to  force  us  into  a  cleanly  house,  where  we  had  bread,  cheese,  ale, 
and  a  fire  for  our  ready  money.  This  rain  and  wind  were  so  ob- 
liging to  me,  as  to  force  our  stay  there  for  at  least  an  hour,  to 
my  great  content  and  advantage  ;  for  in  that  time  he  made  to  me 
many  useful  observations  of  the  present  times  with  much  clear- 
ness and  conscientious  freedom.  I  shall  relate  a  part  of  them,  in 
hope  they  may  also  turn  to  the  advantage  of  my  reader. 

He  seemed  to  lament  that  the  parliament  had  taken  upon  them 
to  abolish  our  Liturgy,  to  the  grief  and  scandal  of  so  many  devout 
and  learned  men,  and  the  disgrace  of  those  many  martyrs,  who 
had  sealed  the  truth  and  necessary  use  of  it  with  their  blood  ;  and 
that  no  minister  was  now  thought  godly  that  did  not  decry  it ; 
and,  at  least,  pretend  to  make  better  prayers  extempore :  and  that 
they,  and  only  they  that  could  do  so,  prayed  by  the  spirit,  and 
were  godly ;  though  in  their  sermons  they  disputed,  and  evidently 
contradicted  each  other  in  their  prayers.  And  as  he  did  dislike 
this,  so  he  did  most  highly  commend  the  Common  Prayer  of  the 
church,  saying,  "The  Holy  Ghost  seemed  to  assist  the  com- 
posers :  and,  that  the  effect  of  a  constant  use  of  it  would  be,  to 
i  licit  and  form  the  soul  into  holy  thoughts  and  desires :  and  beget 
habits  of  devotion/'  This  he  said :  and  "that  the  Collects  \\viv 
the  most  passionate,  proper,  and  most  elegant  comprehensiv 
pressions  that  any  language  ever  afforded ;  and  that  there  wa-  in 
them  such  piety,  and  that,  so  interwoven  with  instructions,  that 
they  taught  us  to  know  the  power,  the  wisdom,  the  majesty,  and 
mercy  of  God,  and  much  of  our  duty  both  to  him  and  our  n 
bour;  and  that  a  congregation  behaving  themselves  reverently, 
ami  putting  up  to  God  these  joint  and  known  desirr*  tor  pardon 
of  sins,  and  their  praise  for  mcrcie>  n -erm-d.  eould  n<>t  hut  !><• 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  461 

more  pleasing  to  God,  than  those  raw  unpremeditated  expres- 
sions which  many  understood  not,  and  to  which  many  of  the 
hearers  could  not  say  Amen." 

And  he  then  commended  to  me  the  frequent  use  of  the  Psalter 
or  Psalms  of  David ;  speaking  to  this  purpose,  "  That  they  were 
the  treasury  of  Christian  comfort,  fitted  for  all  persons  and  all 
necessities ;  able  to  raise  the  soul  from  dejection  by  the  frequent 
mention  of  God's  mercies  to  repentant  sinners ;  able  to  stir  up 
holy  desires ;  to  increase  joy  ;  to  moderate  sorrow ;  to  nourish 
hope,  and  teach  us  patience,  by  waiting  God's  leisure  for  what  we 
beg  ;  able  to  beget  a  trust  in  the  mercy,  power  and  providence 
of  our  Creator ;  and  to  cause  a  resignation  of  ourselves  to  his 
will ;  and  then  (and  not  till  then)  to  believe  ourselves  happy." 
This  he  said  the  Liturgy  and  Psalms  taught  us ;  and  that  by 
the  frequent  use  of  the  last  they  would  not  only  prove  to  be  our 
souls1  comfort,  but  would  become  so  habitual,  as  to  transform 
them  into  the  image  of  his  soul  that  composed  them.  After  this 
manner 6  he  expressed  himself,  and  his  sorrow,  concerning  the 
Liturgy  and  Psalms ;  and  seemed  to  lament  that  this,  which  was 
the  devotion  of  the  more  primitive  times,  should  in  common 
pulpits  be  turned  into  needless  debates  about  free-will,  election 
and  reprobation,  of  which,  and  many  like  questions,  we  may  be 
safely  ignorant,  because  Almighty  God  intends  not  to  lead  us  to 
heaven  by  hard  questions,  but  by  meekness  and  charity,  and  a 
frequent  practice  of  devotion. 

And  he  seemed  to  lament  very  much,  that  by  the  means  of 
irregular  and  indiscreet  preaching,  the  generality  of  the  nation 
were  possessed  with  such  dangerous  mistakes,  as  to  think, 
"  They  might  be  religious  first,  and  then  just  and  merciful ;  that 
they  might  sell  their  consciences,  and  yet  have  something  left  that 
was  worth  keeping  ;  that  they  might  be  sure  they  were  elected, 
though  their  lives  were  visibly  scandalous ;  that  to  be  cunning  was 
to  be  wise,  that  to  be  rich  was  to  be  happy,  though  it  is  evidently 
false  ;  that  to  speak  evil  of  government,  and  to  be  busy  in  things 
they  understood  not,  was  no  sin."  These,  and  the  like  mistakes, 
he  lamented  much,  and  besought  God  to  remove  them,  and 
restore  us  to  that  humility,  sincerity,  and  single-heartedness, 

6  After  this  manner.']  Compare  to  the  same  effect  the  beautiful  passages  in 
Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  book  v.  sect.  37,  9;  and  bishop  Home's 
Preface  to  his  Commentary  on  the  Book  of  Psalms,  near  the  end.  See  above, 
Life  of  Ferrar,  vol.  iv.  p.  211,  note. 


462  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

with  which  this  nation  was  blest,  before  the  unhappy  Covenant 
was  brought  amongst  us,  and  every  man  preached  and  prayed 
what  seemed  best  in  his  own  eyes.  And  he  then  said  to  me, 
"  That  the  way  to  restore  this  nation  to  a  more  meek  and 
Christian  temper,  was  to  have  the  body  of  divinity  (or  so  much  of 
it  as  was  needful  to  be  known  by  the  common  people)  to  be  put 
into  52  homilies 7,  or  sermons,  of  such  a  length  as  not  to  exceed 

7  Fifty-two  homilies.']  At  a  subsequent  period,  a  similar  wish  was,  among 
other  noble  designs  for  the  advancement  of  piety,  entertained  by  the  excel- 
lent archbishop  Tillotson.  The  scheme,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  has  never 
been  executed.  Bishop  Burnet,  in  the  year  1713,  published  seven  sermons 
as  a  specimen  of  this  undertaking ;  in  the  preface  to  which  he  has  detailed 
at  considerable  length  the  model  which  was  intended  to  be  pursued.  The 
design  appears  so  commendable,  and  so  capable  of  being  converted,  even  in 
private  hands,  to  salutary  purposes,  that,  it  is  presumed,  its  insertion  in  this 
place  will  not  be  thought  an  unsuitable  incumbrance. 

"About  three  and  twenty  years  ago,  archbishop  Tillotson,  being  then  dean 
of  St.  Paul's,  but  designed  for  that  high  dignity,  to  which  he  was  afterwards 
advanced,  entered  into  a  long  conversation  with  bishop  Patrick,  then  fjishop  of 
Chichester,  and  myself,  concerning  a  design  he  had  formed  of  a  new  book 
of  Homilies ;  not  that  he  intended  to  lay  aside  the  book  of  Homilies  already 
established,  but  to  add  a  new  one  to  that  we  have  had  now  for  above  an 
hundred  and  fifty  years. 

"  He  thought  that  was  not  full  enough  :  and  that  it  was,  according  to  the 
state  of  things  at  the  time  in  which  it  was  composed,  fitted  chiefly  to  settle 
people's  minds  right  with  relation  to  the  reformation,  and  in  opposition  to 
popery. 

"  He  thought  that  such  a  work  had  been  of  great  use  to  the  nation ;  but 
that  another  book  of  Homilies,  that  should  contain  a  full  and  plain  account 
both  of  the  doctrinal  and  practical  parts  of  the  Christian  religion ;  such  as 
should  give  a  clear  explanation  of  every  thing  relating  to  our  holy  faith,  or 
to  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  was  necessary,  chiefly  for  the  instruction  of 
the  clergy ;  and  it  might  be  also  a  family  book  for  the  general  use  of  the 
whole  nation. 

"  He  proposed  that  it  should  consist  of  threescore  and  two  Homilies ; 
two  and  fifty  for  all  the  Sundays  of  the  year,  and  ten  for  (if  I  remember 
right)  the  following  holidays.  For  Christmas;  2d,  for  the  Circumcision; 
3d,  for  Epiphany ;  4th,  for  Christ's  presentment  in  the  Temple ;  5th,  for  the 
Annunciation ;  6th,  for  Good  Friday ;  7th,  for  the  Ascension ;  8th,  for  the 
Monday  and  Tuesday  in  Easter  -week  ;  9th,  for  the  Monday  and  Tuesday  in 
\\hitsun-week;  and  the  10th  for  Ash  Wednesday. 

"He  designed  the  book  should  begin  at  Advent,  in  this  order.  The  first 
should  give  a  view  of  the  Mosaical  dispensation  :  the  second  was  to  explain 
the  prophecies  concerning  the  Messias,  during  the  first  temple :  the  third 
was  to  explain  the  prophecies  in  the  captivity  in  Daniel,  and  the  others 
during  the  second  temple :  the  fourth  was  to  shew  what  were  the  defects  in 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  463 

a  third  or  fourth  part  of  an  hour's  reading ;  and  these  needful 
points  to  be  made  so  clear  and  plain,  that  those  of  a  mean  capacity 

that  dispensation,  and  what  was  necessary  to  establish  a  better  covenant, 
upon  better  promises  ;  with  a  particular  view  of  the  nature  of  the  priesthood, 
it  being  Ordination  Sunday. 

"  Then  from  Christmas  all  to  Ash- Wednesday  in  a  series  of  several  ser- 
mons, the  circumstances  of  the  doctrine,  the  parables,  and  the  miracles  of 
Christ  were  to  be  copiously  opened,  with  these  particulars  :  on  the  feast  of 
the  Circumcision,  baptism  was  to  be  explained,  as  come  instead  of  it :  on 
Epiphany,  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles,  with  the  progress  that  the  Christian 
religion  made,  and  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  with  the  persecutions  that 
followed,  were  to  be  opened.  On  the  presentment  in  the  Temple,  the 
compliance  with  the  authorised  rituals  of  religion,  even  though  the  body  of  a 
church  was  much  corrupted,  both  with  false  doctrines  and  superstitious 
practices,  was  to  be  made  out ;  but  with  the  necessary  limitations  of  such  a 
degree  of  corruption,  as  should  make  a  separation  from  the  body  not  only 
lawful,  but  necessary.  On  the  feast  of  Annunciation,  the  hymns  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  of  Zachary,  and  Simeon,  as  being  parts  of  the  daily  worship, 
were  to  be  paraphrased,  and  explained ;  on  Ash- Wednesday  and  the  three 
first  Sundays  in  Lent,  the  whole  doctrine  of  repentance  was  to  be  fully 
enlarged  on;  restitution,  and  the  reparation  of  injuries  were  to  be  much 
pressed  :  then  the  guilt  of  sin,  with  the  just  punishments  due  for  it,  both  in 
this  life,  and  in  the  next,  were  to  be  set  forth,  to  prepare  men  for  a  just  sense 
of  the  mercies  of  God  in  Christ.  On  the  Sunday  before  Easter,  the  institu- 
tion of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  every  thing  relating  to  it  were  to  be  rightly 
stated.  On  Good  Friday,  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ  were  to  be 
fully  set  forth.  On  Easter  day,  the  resurrection  was  the  proper  subject; 
both  the  evidence  of  it,  and  the  effects  of  it  were  to  be  enlarged  on.  For 
Monday  and  Tuesday  in  that  week,  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  of  the 
judgment  to  come,  and  of  the  blessedness  of  the  saints  in  heaven,  were  to  be 
opened. 

"  In  the  six  Sundays  to  Whitsuntide,  the  doctrine  of  Justification  was  to 
be  explained;  and  some  expressions  in  the  first  book,  that  seemed  to  carry 
Justification  by  Faith  only,  to  a  height  that  wanted  some  mitigation,  were  to 
be  well  examined ;  and  all  that  St.  Paul  had  writ  on  that  head,  both  to  the 
Romans,  and  the  Galatians,  was  to  be  explained,  and  reconciled  to  what 
St.  James  wrote  on  the  same  subject.  Next  Sanctification  was  to  be  right 
stated  ;  Faith  and  Hope  were  to  be  explained.  The  mission  of  the  Apostles, 
and  of  their  successors,  the  bishops  and  pastors  of  the  church,  with  their 
authority  and  its  limits  were  to  be  asserted.  Christ's  Ascension,  and  his 
kingdom,  as  the  Messias,  was  next  to  be  proved,  and  explained.  The  great 
effusion  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  Whitsunday  was  next  to  be  dwelt  on ;  upon 
which  the  authority  of  the  New  Testament  is  to  be  proved,  in  opposition  to 
tradition ;  and  the  authenticalness  of  the  Scriptures,  as  they  are  now  in  our 
hands,  was  to  be  made  out.  For  the  Monday  and  Tuesday  in  Whitsun 
week  the  necessity  of  inward  assistances  was  to  be  shewn,  and  to  be  guarded 
against  the  danger  of  enthusiasm.  On  Trinity  Sunday,  that  great  article  of 


464  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

might  know  what  was  necessary  to  be  believed,  and  what  God 
requires  to  be  done ;  and  then  some  plain  applications  of  trial 

the  Christian  religion,  of  the  unity  of  the  God-head,  and  that  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Ghost  were  one  God,  was  to  be  proved,  and  settled;  with  an 
exhortation  to  all  in  Holy  Orders,  to  remember  their  vows,  and  to  live  and 
labour  suitably  to  their  profession. 

"  In  the  Sundays  after  Trinity,  the  sum  of  the  Ten  Commandments,  and 
every  one  of  the  ten,  with  the  duties  relating  to  it,  were  to  be  fully  opened ; 
in  particular,  Humility,  Meekness,  and  Contentment,  with  a  freedom  from 
Envy  and  Covetousness,  were  to  be  well  set  out.  After  this,  some  Sermons 
were  to  be  added  concerning  Prayer,  with  a  particular  enlargement  on  all 
the  parts  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  :  and  the  year  was  to  end  in  some  sermons, 
charging  home  on  the  people  the  care  of  their  souls,  and  their  duty  to 
Almighty  God,  the  Creator  of  all  things,  and  the  Governor  of  the  world,  and 
the  Saviour  of  all  that  believe. 

"  This  is  the  substance  of  that  scheme,  that  in  a  long  conversation  was 
thus  digested ;  and  which  the  archbishop  said  that  he  would  communicate 
to  others,  to  be  corrected,  or  improved,  as  they  should  advise.  In  order  to 
this,  bishop  Patrick  undertook  to  examine  carefully  the  Gospels  and  Epistles 
for  the  whole  year,  to  see  how  they  agreed  with  this  scheme,  and  to  gather 
what  other  portions  out  of  the  Gospels  and  Epistles  he  could  choose,  that 
should  agree  better  with  all  the  parts  of  it,  and  to  prepare  Collects  proper 
for  them :  and  from  some  discourse  with  him  afterwards,  I  conclude  that 
he  had  made  a  good  progress  in  it ;  whether  he  finished  it,  or  not,  I  cannot 
tell. 

"  At  that  time,  the  king  and  queen  set  out  proclamations  against  profane 
swearing,  breach  of  sabbath,  lewdness,  and  drunkenness ;  so  the  archbishop 
put  it  upon  me  to  draw,  for  an  essay,  Homilies  on  these  subjects.  He  said 
he  would  take  a  large  share  of  the  work  to  himself :  the  like  bishop  Patrick 
also  was  willing  to  undertake ;  and  he  knew  several  persons  who  had  con- 
sidered some  matters  relating  to  the  scheme  very  critically,  to  whom  he 
would  assign  such  parts  of  it,  as  they  would  be  both  very  willing  and  able 
to  execute  well.  He  also  told  me,  that  he  had  proposed  the  design  to  the 
present  reverend  and  most  learned  bishop  of  Worcester'*  (Dr.  Lloyd) 
"who  highly  approved  of  it,  but  would  take  no  other  share  in  it,  than 
the  revising  the  several  compositions  that  were  given  in  towards  the  finishing 
the  work.  He  said  he  would  read  them  carefully,  and  make  such  re- 
marks and  corrections  as  should  occur  to  him,  with  his  utmost  care  and 
exactness. 

"  But  soon  after  this,  we  found  a  spirit  of  opposition  and  contradiction 
grew  so  strong,  and  it  was  so  much  animated  and  supported,  that  we  saw  it 
was  to  no  purpose  to  struggle  against  it  at  that  time.  Therefore  this,  with 
many  other  good  designs,  were  reserved  to  a  better  opportunity,  and  no 
further  progress  was  made  in  it.  So  since  these  two  worthy  prelates  are 
dead,  I  thought  it  was  fit  for  me  to  give  this  account  of  it  to  the  world,  that 
it  may  not  be  quite  lost ;  and  to  offer  it  with  the  following  essay  that  was 
intended  to  be  a  part  of  it." 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  465 

and  conviction :  and  these  to  be  read  every  Sunday  of  the  year, 
as  infallibly  as  the  blood  circulates  the  body  at  a  set  time ;  and 
then  as  certainly  began  again,  and  continued  the  year  following." 

And  he  explained  the  reason  of  this  his  desire,  by  saying  to 
me,  "  All  grammar  scholars,  that  are  often  shifted,  from  one  to 
another  school,  learn  neither  so  much,  nor  their  little  so  truly,  as 
those  that  are  constant  to  one  good  master  :  because,  by  the 
several  rules  of  teaching  in  those  several  schools  they  learn  less, 
and  become  more  and  more  confused ;  and  at  last,  so  puzzled 
and  perplexed,  that  their  learning  proves  useless  both  to  them- 
selves and  others.  And  so  do  the  irnmethodical,  useless,  needless 
notions  that  are  delivered  in  many  sermons,  make  the  hearers ; 
but  a  clear  and  constant  rule  of  teaching  us  what  we  are  to 
know  and  do,  and  what  not,  and  that  taught  us  by  an  approved 
authority,  might  probably  bring  the  nation  to  a  more  conscientious 
practice  of  what  we  know,  and  ought  to  do."  Thus  did  this 
prudent  man  explain  the  reason  of  this  his  desire  :  and  oh  !  that 
he  had  undertaken  what  he  advised  :  for  then  in  all  probability  it 
would  have  proved  so  useful,  that  the  present  age  would  have 
been  blest  by  it ;  and,  posterity  would  have  blest  him  for  it. 

And  at  this  happy  time  of  my  enjoying  his  company  and  his 
discourse,  he  expressed  a  sorrow  by  saying  to  me,  "  0  that  I 
had  gone  chaplain  to  that  excellently  accomplished  gentleman, 
your  friend,  sir  Henry  Wotton  !  which  was  once  intended,  when 
he  first  went  ambassador  to  the  state  of  Venice 8 :  for  by  that 
employment  I  had  been  forced  into  a  necessity  of  conversing,  not 
only  with  him,  but  with  several  men  of  several  nations ;  and 
might  thereby  have  kept  myself  from  my  unmanly  bashfulness, 
which  has  proved  very  troublesome,  and  not  less  inconvenient  to 
me ;  and  which  I  now  fear  is  become  so  habitual  as  never  to 
leave  me :  and  besides,  by  that  means  I  might  also  have  known, 
or  at  least  have  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  one  of  the  late 
miracles  of  mankind,  for  general  learning,  prudence  and  modesty, 
sir  Henry  Wo  toon's  dear  friend,  Padre  Paulo 9,  who,  the  author 
of  his  life  says,  was  born  with  a  bashfulness  as  invincible  as  I 
have  found  my  own  to  be :  a  man  whose  fame  must  never  die, 
till  virtue  and  learning  shall  become  so  useless  as  not  to  be 
regarded." 

This  was  a  part  of  the  benefit  I  then  had  by  that  hour's  con- 
versation :  and  I  gladly  remember  and  mention  it,  as  an  argu- 
8  Venice.']  See  p.  84.  9  Padre  Paulo.~\  Sarpi. 

VOL.   IV.  H  h 


466  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

ment  of  my  happiness,  and  his  great  humility  and  condescen- 
sion.— I  had  also  a  like  advantage  by  another  happy  conference 
with  him,  which  I  am  desirous  to  impart  in  this  place  to  the 
reader. 

He  lamented  much,  that  in  those  times  of  confusion,  in  many 
parishes,  where  the  maintenance  was  not  great,  there  was  no 
minister  to  officiate;  and  that  many  of  the  best  sequestered 
livings  were  possessed  with  such  rigid  covenanters  as  denied  the 
sacrament  to  their  parishioners,  unless  upon  such  conditions, 
and  in  such  a  manner  as  they  could  not  with  a  good  conscience 
take  it.  This  he  mentioned  with  much  sorrow,  saying,  "The 
blessed  sacrament  did,  even  by  way  of  preparation  for  it,  give 
occasion  to  all  conscientious  receivers  to  examine  the  performance 
of  their  vows,  since  they  received  that  last  seal  for  the  pardon  of 
their  sins  past ;  and  also  to  examine  and  research  their  hearts, 
and  make  penitent  reflections  on  their  failings ;  and  that  done  to 
bewail  them  seriously,  and  then  make  new  vows  or  resolutions 
to  obey  all  God's  commands  better,  and  beg  his  grace  to  perform 
them.  And  that  this  being  faithfully  done,  then  the  sacrament 
repairs  the  decays  of  grace,  helps  us  to  conquer  infirmities,  gives 
us  grace  to  beg  God's  grace,  and  then  gives  us  what  we  beg ; 
makes  us  still  hunger  and  thirst  after  his  righteousness,  which  we 
then  receive,  and  being  assisted  with  our  own  endeavours,  will 
still  so  dwell  in  us,  as  to  become  our  sanctification  in  this  life, 
and  our  comfort  on  our  last  sick-beds."  The  want  of  this 
blessed  benefit  he  lamented  much,  and  pitied  their  condition  that 
desired,  but  could  not  obtain  it. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  disoblige  my  reader,  if  I  here  enlarge  into 
a  further  character  of  his  person  and  temper.  As  first,  that  he 
was  moderately  tall ;  his  behaviour  had  in  it  much  of  a  plain 
comeliness,  and  very  little  (yet  enough)  of  ceremony  or  court- 
ship; his  looks  and  motion  manifested  an  endearing  affability 
and  mildness,  and  yet  he  had  with  these  a  calm,  and  so  matchless 
a  fortitude,  as  secured  him  from  complying  with  any  of  those 
many  parliament  injunctions,  that  interfered  with  a  doubtful 
conscience.  His  learning  was  methodical  and  exact ;  his  wisdom 
useful ;  his  integrity  visible ;  and  his  whole  life  so  unspotted,  so 
like  the  primitive  Christians,  that  all  ought  to  be  preserved  as 
copies  for  posterity  to  write  after ;  the  clergy  especially ;  who 
with  impure  hands  ought  not  to  offer  sacrifice  to  that  God,  whose 
pure  eyes  abhor  iniquity ;  and  especially  in  them 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  467 

There  was  in  his  sermons  no  improper  rhetoric,  nor  such  per- 
plexed divisions,  as  may  be  said  to  be  like  too  much  light,  that  so 
dazzles  the  eyes  that  the  sight  becomes  less  perfect.  But  in  them 
there  was  no  want  of  useful  matter,  nor  waste  of  words ;  and  yet 
such  clear  distinctions  as  dispelled  all  confused  notions,  and  made 
his  hearers  depart  both  wiser,  and  more  confirmed  in  virtuous 
resolutions. 

His  memory  was  so  matchless  and  firm,  as  it  was  only  over- 
come by  his  bashfulness :  for  he  alone  or  to  a  friend,  could  repeat 
all  the  Odes  of  Horace,  all  Tully's  Offices,  and  much  of  Juvenal 
and  Persius  without  book ;  and  would  say,  "  The  repetition  of 
one  of  the  Odes  of  Horace  to  himself,"  (which  he  did  often)  "  was 
to  him  such  music,  as  a  lesson  on  the  viol  was  to  others,  when 
they  played  it  voluntarily  to  themselves  or  friends."  And  though 
he  was  blest  with  a  clearer  judgment  than  other  men,  yet  he  was 
so  distrustful  of  it,  that  he  did  usually  over-consider  of  conse- 
quences, and  would  so  delay  and  reconsider  what  to  determine, 
that  though  none  ever  determined  better,  yet,  when  the  bell 
tolled  for  him  to  appear  and  read  his  Divinity  Lectures  in  Oxford, 
and  all  the  scholars  attended  to  hear  him,  he  had  not  then,  or 
not  till  then,  resolved  and  writ  what  he  meant  to  determine ;  so 
that  that  appeared  to  be  a  truth,  which  his  old  dear  friend  Dr. 
Sheldon  would  often  say  of  him,  namely,  "  That  his  judgment  was 
so  much  superior  to  his  fancy,  that  whatsoever  this  suggested, 
that  disliked  and  controuled ;  still  considering,  and  reconsidering, 
till  his  time  was  so  wasted,  that  he  was  forced  to  write,  not  (pro- 
bably) what  was  best,  but  what  he  thought  last."  And  yet 
what  he  did  then  read,  appeared  to  all  hearers  to  be  so  useful, 
clear,  and  satisfactory,  as  none  ever  determined  with  greater 
applause. 

These  tiring  and  perplexing  thoughts  begot  in  him  some  averse- 
ness  to  enter  into  the  toil  of  considering  and  determining  all 
casuistical  points ;  because  during  that  time  they  neither  gave 
rest  to  his  body  or  mind.  But  though  he  would  not  suffer  his 
mind  to  be  always  loaden  with  these  knotty  points  and  distinc- 
tions, yet  the  study  of  old  records,  genealogies,  and  heraldry, 
were  a  recreation,  and  so  pleasing,  that  he  would  say  they  gave  a 
pleasant  rest  to  his  mind.  Of  the  last  of  which  I  have  seen  two 
remarkable  volumes ;  and  the  reader  needs  neither  to  doubt  their 
truth  or  exactness. 

And  this  holy  humble  man  had  so  conquered  all  repining  and 

Hh2 


468  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

ambitious  thoughts,  and  with  them  all  other  unruly  passions,  that, 
if  the  accidents  of  the  day  proved  to  his  danger  or  damage,  yet 
he  both  began  and  ended  it  with  an  even  and  undisturbed  quiet- 
ness :  always  praising  God  that  he  had  not  withdrawn  food  and 
raiment  from  him  and  his  poor  family,  nor  suffered  him  in  the 
times  of  trial  to  violate  his  conscience  for  his  safety,  or  to  support 
himself  or  them  in  a  more  splendid  or  plentiful  condition;  ami 
that  he  therefore  resolved  with  David,  That  his  praise  sJiould  be 
always  in  his  mouth. 

I  have  taken  a  content  in  giving  my  reader  this  character  of 
his  person,  his  temper,  and  some  of  the  accidents  of  his  life  jta^t  ; 
and  much  more  might  be  added  of  all :  but  I  will  with  sorrow 
look  forward  to  the  sad  days,  in  which  so  many  good  men,  clergy- 
men especially,  were  sufferers;  namely,  about  the  year  1658,  at 
which  time  Dr.  Sanderson  was  in  a  very  pitiful  condition  as  to  his 
estate :  and  in  that  time  Mr.  Robert  Boyle ',  (a  gentleman  of  a 
very  noble  birth,  and  more  eminent  for  his  liberality,  learning  and 
virtue,  and  of  whom  I  would  say  much  more,  but  that  he  still 
lives)  having  casually  met  with,  and  read  his  lectures  de  Jura- 
mento,  to  his  great  satisfaction,  and  being  informed  of  Dr.  San- 
derson's great  innocence  and  sincerity,  and  that  he  and  his  family 
were  brought  into  a  low  condition  by  his  not  complying  with  the 
parliament's  injunctions,  sent  him  by  his  dear  friend  Dr.  Barlow, 
(the  now  learned  bishop  of  Lincoln),  50£.  and  with  it  a  request 
and  promise.  The  request  was,  "  That  he  would  review  the  lec- 
tures de  Conscientia,  which  he  had  read  when  he  was  doctor  of  the 
chair  in  Oxford,  and  print  them  for  the  good  of  posterity ;"  (and 
this  Dr.  Sanderson  did  in  the  year  1659).  And  the  promise  was, 
"  That  he  would  pay  him  that,  or  if  he  desired  it,  a  greater  sum 
yearly,  during  his  life  to  enable  him  to  pay  an  amanuensis,  to  ease 
him  from  the  trouble  of  writing  what  he  should  conceive  or  dic- 
tate." For  the  more  particular  account  of  which,  I  refer  my 
reader  to  a  letter  writ  to  me  by  the  said  Dr.  Barlow,  which  I  have 
annexed  to  the  end  of  this  relation. 

Towards  the  beginning  of  the  year  1 660,  when  the  many  mixed 
sects,  and  their  creators,  and  merciless  protectors,  had  led,  or 
driven  each  other  into  a  whirlpool  of  confusion  both  in  church 
and  state :  when  amazement  and  fear  had  seized  most  of  them  by 
foreseeing,  they  must  now  not  only  vomit  up  the  church's,  and 

1  Boyle."]  The  celebrated  Hon.  Robert  Boyle. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  469 

the  king's  land,  but  their  accusing  consciences  did  also  give  them 
an  inward  and  fearful  intelligence,  that  the  God  of  opposition, 
disobedience,  and  confusion,  which  they  had  so  long  and  so  dili- 
gently feared,  was  now  ready  to  reward  them  with  such  wages  as 
he  always  pays  to  witches  for  their  obeying  him  :  when  these 
wretches  (that  had  said  to  themselves,  "  We  shall  see  no  sorrow") 
were  come  to  foresee  an  end  of  their  cruel  reign,  by  our  king's 
return,  and  such  sufferers  as  Dr.  Sanderson  (and  with  him  many 
of  the  oppressed  clergy  and  others)  could  foresee  the  cloud  of 
their  afflictions  would  be  dispersed  by  it ;  then  the  29th  of  May 
following,  the  king  was  by  our  good  God  restored  to  us,  and  we 
to  our  known  laws  and  liberties,  and  then  a  general  joy  and  peace 
seemed  to  breathe  through  the  three  nations ;  the  suffering  and 
sequestered  clergy  (who  had,  like  the  children  of  Israel,  sat  long 
lamenting  their  sad  condition,  and  hanged  their  neglected  harps 
on  the  willows  that  grow  by  the  rivers  of  Babylon)  were  after 
many  thoughtful  days,  and  restless  nights,  now  freed  from  their 
sequestration,  restored  to  their  revenues,  and  to  a  liberty  to 
adore,  praise,  and  pray  to  almighty  God  publicly  in  such  order 
as  their  consciences  and  oaths  had  formerly  obliged  them.  And 
the  reader  will  easily  believe  that  Dr.  Sanderson  and  his  dejected 
family  rejoiced  to  see  this  happy  day,  and  be  of  this  number. 

At  this  time  of  the  conformable  clergy's  deliverance  from  the 
presbyterian  severities,  the  doctor  said  to  a  friend,  "  I  look  back 
on  this  strange  and  happy  turn  of  the  late  times  with  amazement 
and  thankfulness ;  and  cannot  but  think  the  Presbyterians  ought 
to  read  their  own  errors,  by  considering  that  by  their  own  rules 
the  Independents  have  punished,  and  supplanted  them  as  they 
did  the  conformable  clergy,  who  are  now  (so  many  as  still  live) 
restored  to  their  lawful  right ;  and  as  the  prophet  David  hath 
taught  me,  so  I  say  with  a  thankful  heart,  Verily,  there  is  a  God 
thatjudgeth  the  earth  :  and  a  reward  for  the  righteous" 

It  ought  to  be  considered  (which  I  have  often  heard  or  read) 
that  in  the  primitive  times,  men  of  learning,  prudence,  and  virtue 
were  usually  sought  for,  and  solicited  to  accept  of  episcopal 
government,  and  often  refused  it.  For,  they  conscientiously  con- 
sidered that  the  office  of  a  bishop  was  not  made  up  of  ease  and 
state,  but  of  labour  and  care  :  that  they  were  trusted  to  be  of  God's 
almoners  of  the  church's  revenue,  and  double  their  care  for  the 
church's  good,  and  the  poor ;  to  live  strictly  themselves,  and  use 
all  diligence  to  see  that  their  family,  officers  and  clergy,  became 


470  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

examples  of  innocence  and  piety  to  others  ;  and  that  the  account 
of  that  stewardship  must  at  the  last  dreadful  day  be  made" to  the 
Searcher  of  all  hearts :  and  for  these  reasons  they  were  in  the 
primitive  times  timorous  to  undertake  it.  It  may  not  be  said 
that  Dr.  Sanderson  was  accomplished  with  these,  and  all  the 
other  requisites  required  in  a  bishop,  so  as  to  be  able  to  answer 
them  exactly ;  but  it  may  be  affirmed,  as  a  good  preparation,  that 
he  had  at  the  age  of  seventy-three  years  (for  he  was  so  old  at  the 
king's  return)  fewer  faults  to  be  pardoned  by  God  or  man,  than 
are  apparent  in  others  in  these  days,  in  which  (God  knows)  we 
fall  so  short  of  that  visible  sanctity  and  zeal  to  God's  glory,  which 
was  apparent  in  the  days  of  primitive  Christianity.  This  is  men- 
tioned by  way  of  preparation  to  what  I  shall  say  more  of  Dr.  San- 
derson ;  as  namely,  that  at  the  king's  return  Dr.  Sheldon,  the 
late  prudent  archbishop  of  Canterbury  (than  whom  none  knew, 
valued,  or  loved  Dr.  Sanderson  more  or  better)  was  by  his 
majesty  made  a  chief  trustee  to  commend  to  him  fit  men  to 
supply  the  then  vacant  bishoprics.  And  Dr.  Sheldon  knew  none 
fitter  than  Dr.  Sanderson,  and  therefore  humbly  desired  the  king 
that  he  would  nominate  him  :  and  that  done,  he  did  as  humbly 
desire  Dr.  Sanderson  that  he  would  "  for  God's  and  the  church's 
sake  take  that  charge  and  care  upon  him."  Dr.  Sanderson  had, 
if  not  an  unwillingness,  certainly  no  forwardness  to  undertake  it, 
and  would  often  say,  "  He  had  not  led  himself,  but  his  friend 
would  now  lead  him  into  a  temptation,  which  he  had  daily  prayed 
against ;  and  besought  God,  if  he  did  undertake  it,  so  to  assist 
him  with  his  grace,  that  the  example  of  his  life,  his  cares  and 
endeavours  might  promote  his  glory,  and  help  forward  the  salva- 
tion of  others." 

This  I  have  mentioned  as  a  happy  preparation  to  his  bishopric, 
and  am  next  to  tell  that  he  was  consecrated  bishop  of  Lincoln  at 
Westminster  the  28th  of  October,  1660. 

There  was  about  this  time  a  Christian  care  taken,  that  those 
whose  consciences  were  (as  they  said)  tender,  and  could  not  com- 
ply with  the  service  and  ceremonies  of  the  church,  might  have  a 
satisfaction  given  by  a  friendly  debate  betwixt  a  select  number  of 
them,  and  some  like  number  of  those  that  had  been  sufferers  for 
the  church  service  and  ceremonies,  and  now  restored  to  liberty ; 
of  which  last  some  were  then  preferred  to  power  and  dignity  in 
the  church.  And  of  these  bishop  Sanderson  was  one,  and  then 
chosen  to  be  a  moderator  in  that  debate,  and  he  performed  his 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  471 

trust  with  much  mildness,  patience,  and  reason ;  but  all  proved 
ineffectual.  For  there  be  some  prepossessions  like  jealousies, 
which  though  causeless,  yet  cannot  be  removed  by  reasons  as 
apparent  as  demonstration  can  make  any  truth.  The  place 
appointed  for  this  debate  was  the  Savoy a  in  the  Strand :  and  the 
points  debated  were,  I  think,  many  (and  I  think  many  of  them 
needless)  ;  some  affirmed  to  be  truth  and  reason,  some  denied  to  be 
either ;  and  these  debates  being  at  first  in  words,  proved  to  be  so 
loose  and  perplexed  as  satisfied  neither  party.  For  sometime 
that  which  had  been  affirmed  was  immediately  forgot,  or  mis- 
taken, or  denied,  and  so  no  satisfaction  given  to  either  party. 
And  that  the  debate  might  become  more  satisfactory  and  useful, 
it  was  therefore  resolved  that  the  day  following,  the  desires  and 
reasons  of  the  non-conformists  should  be  given  in  writing,  and 
they  in  writing  receive  answers  from  the  conforming  party.  And 
though  I  neither  now  can,  nor  need  to  mention  all  the  points 
debated,  nor  the  names  of  the  dissenting  brethren ;  yet  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Richard  Baxter  was  one,  and  I  am  sure  also  one  of  the  points 
debated  was  "  Concerning  a  command  of  lawful  superiors,  what 
was  sufficient  towards  its  being  a  lawful  command?" — This  fol- 
lowing proposition  was  brought  by  the  conforming  party : 

"  That  command  which  commands  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and 
no  other  act  or  circumstance  unlawful,  is  not  sinful."" 

Mr.  Baxter  denied  it  for  two  reasons,  which  he  gave  in  with 
his  own  hand  in  writing  thus :  one  was,  "  Because  that  may  be  a 
smper  accidens,  which  is  not  so  in  itself;  and  may  be  unlawfully 
commanded,  though  that  accident  be  not  in  the  command.'"  An- 
other was,  "  That  it  may  be  commanded  under  an  unjust 
penalty." 

Again,  this  proposition  being  brought  by  the  conformists, 
"  That  command  which  commandeth  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and 
no  other  act  whereby  any  unjust  penalty  is  enjoined,  nor  any 
circumstance  whence  per  accidens  any  sin  is  consequent  which 
the  commander  ought  to  provide  against,  is  not  sinful." 

Mr.  Baxter  denied  it  for  this  reason  then  given  in  with  his  own 
hand  in  writing,  thus ;  "  Because  the  first  act  commanded  may 


2  The  Savoy, ,]  For  a  large  account  of  the  Savoy  conference,  see  Baxter's 
Life,  p.  303,  &c. ;  also  Collier's  Ecclesiast.  History,  vol.  ii.  p.  876—86  ;  and 
History  of  Non-conformity  as  it  was  argued  by  commissioners  on  both  sides,  in 
1661.  p.  149—338.  edit.  1704.  8vo. 


472  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

be  per  accidens  unlawful,  and  be  commanded  by  an  unjust  penalty, 
though  no  other  act  or  circumstance  commanded  be  such." 

Again  this  proposition  being  brought  by  the  conformists, 
"  That  command  which  commandeth  an  act  in  itself  lawful,  and 
no  other  act  whereby  any  unjust  penalty  is  enjoined,  nor  any 
circumstance  whence  directly  or  per  accidens  any  sin  is  conse- 
quent, which  the  commander  ought  to  provide  against,  hath  in  it 
all  things  requisite  to  the  lawfulness  of  a  command,  and  particu- 
larly cannot  be  guilty  of  commanding  an  act  per  accidens  un- 
lawful nor  of  commanding  an  act  under  an  unjust  penalty." 
Mr.  Baxter  denied  it  upon  the  same  reasons. 

PETER  GUNNING. 

JOHN  PEARSON. 

These  were  then  two  of  the  disputants,  still  live,  and  will  attest 
this ;  one  being  now  lord  bishop  of  Ely,  and  the  other  of  Chester. 
And  the  last  of  them  told  me  very  lately,  that  one  of  the  dis- 
senters (which  I  could,  but  forbear  to  name)  appeared  to  Dr. 
Sanderson  to  be  so  bold,  so  troublesome,  and  so  illogical  in  the 
dispute,  as  forced  patient s  Dr.  Sanderson  (who  was  then  bishop 
of  Lincoln,  and  a  moderator  with  other  bishops)  to  say  with  an 
unusual  earnestness,  "That  he  had  never  met  with  a  man  of 
more  pertinacious  confidence,  and  less  abilities  in  all  his  con- 
versation." 

But,  though  this  debate  at  the  Savoy  was  ended  without  any 
great  satisfaction  to  either  party,  yet  both  parties  knew  the  de- 
sires and  understood  the  abilities  of  the  other  much  better  than 
before  it :  and  the  late  distressed  clergy,  that  were  now  restored 
to  their  former  rights  and  power,  were  so  charitable,  as  at  their 
next  meeting  in  convocation,  to  contrive  to  give  the  dissenting 
party  satisfaction  by  alteration,  explanation,  and  addition  to  some 
part  both  of  the  rubric  and  Common  Prayer ;  as  also  by  adding 
some  new  necessary  collects,  with  a  particular  collect  of  thanks- 
giving. How  many  of  these  new  collects  were  worded  by  1  )r. 
Sanderson,  I  cannot  say ;  but  am  sure  the  whole  convocation 
valued  him  so  much,  that  he  never  undertook  to  speak  to  any 
point  in  question,  but  he  was  heard  with  great  willingness  and 
attention  ;  and  when  any  point  in  question  was  determined,  the 

3  Patient, .]  Baxter,  speaking  of  Sanderson  at  this  period,  says,  that  he  was 
"  a  very  worthy  man,  but  for  that  great  peevishness,  which  injuries,  partiality, 
temperature  and  age  had  caused  in  him." — Life,  &c.  p.  357.  See  also  p.  3C3. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  473 

convocation  did  usually  desire  him  to  word  their  intentions,  and, 
as  usually,  approve  and  thank  him. 

At  this  convocation  the  Common-Prayer  was  made  more  com- 
plete, by  adding  three  new  necessary  offices ;  which  were,  A  Form 
of  Humiliation  for  the  Murder  of  King  Charles  the  Martyr ;  a 
Thanksgiving  for  the  Restoration  of  Ms  Son  our  King ;  and  for 
the  Baptizing  of  Persons  of  riper  Age.  I  cannot  say  Dr.  Sander- 
son did  form  or  word  them  all,  but  doubtless  more  than  any 
single  man  of  the  convocation ;  and  he  did  also,  by  desire  of  the 
convocation,  alter  and  add  to  the  forms  of  prayers  to  be  used  at 
sea  (now  taken  into  the  service-book).  And  it  may  be  noted, 
that  William  *,  the  now  most  reverend  archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
was  in  these  employments  diligently  useful ;  especially  in  helping 
to  rectify  the  calendar  and  rubric.  And  lastly  it  may  be  noted, 
that  for  the  satisfying  all  the  dissenting  brethren  and  others,  the 
convocation's  reasons  for  the  alterations  and  additions  to  the 
liturgy,  were  by  them  desired  to  be  drawn  up  by  Dr.  Sanderson ; 
which  being  done  by  him,  and  approved  by  them,  was  appointed 
to  be  printed  before  the  liturgy,  and  may  now  be  known  by  this 
title — The  Preface ;  and  begins  thus — It  hath  been  the  wisdom  of 
the  church. 

I  shall  now  follow  Dr.  Sanderson  to  his  bishopric,  and  declare 
a  part  of  his  behaviour  in  that  busy  and  weighty  employment. 
And  first,  that  it  was  with  such  condescension  and  obligingness 
to  the  meanest  of  his  clergy,  as  to  know  and  be  known  to  most 
of  them.  And  indeed  he  practised  the  like  to  all  men  of  what 
degree  soever,  especially  to  his  old  neighbours  or  parishioners  of 
Boothby  Pannel ;  for  there  was  all  joy  at  his  table  when  they 
came  to  visit  him  :  then  they  prayed  for  him,  and  he  for  them, 
with  an  unfeigned  affection. 

I  think  it  will  not  be  denied  but  that  the  care  and  toil  required 
of  a  bishop,  may  justly  challenge  the  riches  and  revenue  with 
which  their  predecessors  had  lawfully  endowed  them ;  and  yet  he 
sought  not  that  so  much,  as  doing  good  with  it  both  to  the 
present  age  and  posterity ;  and  he  made  this  appear  by  what 
follows. 

The  bishop's  chief  house  at  Buckden,  in  the  county  of  Hun- 
tington,  the  usual  residence  of  his  predecessors  (for  it  stands 
about  the  midst  of  his  diocese),  having  been  at  his  consecration 

*  William.']  Sancroft. 


474  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

a  great  part  of  it  demolished,  and  what  was  left  standing  under  a 
visible  decay,  was  by  him  undertaken  to  be  repaired ;  and  it  was 
performed  with  great  speed,  care,  and  charge.  And  to  this  may 
be  added,  that  the  king  having  by  an  injunction  *  commended  to 
the  care  of  the  bishops,  deans,  and  prebends  of  all  cathedral 
churches,  "  the  repair  of  them,  their  houses,  and  an  augmenta- 
tion of  the  revenue  of  small  vicarages ;"  he,  when  he  was  repair- 
ing Buckden,  did  also  augment  the  last,  as  fast  as  fines  were  paid 
for  renewing  leases ;  so  fast,  that  a  friend  taking  notice  of  his 
bounty,  was  so  bold  as  to  advise  him  to  remember,  "  he  was 
under  his  first  fruits,  and  that  he  was  old,  and  had  a  wife  and 
children  that  were  yet  but  meanly  provided  for,  especially  if  his 
dignity  were  considered.'1  To  whom  he  made  a  mild  and  thank- 
ful answer,  saying,  "  It  would  not  become  a  Christian  bishop  to 
suffer  those  houses  built  by  his  predecessors  to  be  ruined  for  want 
of  repair ;  and  less  justifiable  to  suffer  any  of  those  poor  vicars 
that  were  called  to  so  high  a  calling  as  to  sacrifice  at  God's  altar, 
to  eat  the  bread  of  sorrow  constantly,  when  he  had  a  power  by  a 
small  augmentation  to  turn  it  into  the  bread  of  cheerfulness :  and 
wished  that  as  this  was,  so  it  were  also  in  his  power  to  make  all 
mankind  happy,  for  he  desired  nothing  more.  And  for  his  wife 
and  children,  he  hoped  to  leave  them  a  competence ;  and  in  the 
hands  of  a  God,  that  would  provide  for  all  that  kept  innocence, 
and  trusted  in  his  providence  and  protection,  which  he  had  always 
found  enough  to  make  and  keep  him  happy." 

There  was  in  his  diocese  a  minister  of  almost  his  age,  that  had 
been  of  Lincoln  college  when  he  left  it,  who  visited  him  often,  and 
always  welcome,  because  he  was  a  man  of  innocence  and  open- 
heartedness.  This  minister  asked  the  bishop  what  books  he 
studied  most,  when  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  great  and  clear 
learning  \  To  which  his  answer  was,  that  he  declined  reading 
many  books  ;  but  what  he  did  read  were  well  chosen,  and  read 
so  often  that  he  became  very  familiar  with  them  ;  and  told  him 
they  were  chiefly  three,  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  Aquinas's  Secunda 
Becundce,  and  Tully,  but  chiefly  his  Offices,  which  he  had  not  read 
over  less  than  twenty  times,  and  could  at  this  age  repeat  without 
book.  And  told  him  also,  the  learned  civilian  doctor  Zouch  (\vlm 
died  lately)  had  writ  Elementa  Jurisprudentice,  which  was  a  book 

'  By  an  injunction.]  See  Kennett's  Case  of  Impropriotions  and  Augmenta- 
tion of  Vicarages,  251 — 8.  The  king's  letter  was  issued  Aug.  7,  1 660. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  475 

that  he  thought  he  could  also  say  without  book  ;  and  that  no 
wise  man  could  read  it  too  often,  or  love,  or  commend  it  too 
much  ;  and  he  told  him  the  study  of  these  had  been  his  toil ; 
but  for  himself,  he  always  had  a  natural  love  to  genealogies  and 
heraldry ;  and  that  when  his  thoughts  were  harassed  with  any 
perplexed  studies,  he  left  off,  and  turned  to  them  as  a  recreation ; 
and  that  his  very  recreation  had  made  him  so  perfect  in  them, 
that  he  could  in  a  very  short  time  give  an  account  of  the  descent, 
arms,  and  antiquity  of  any  family  of  the  nobility  or  gentry  of  this 
nation. 

Before  I  give  an  account  of  his  last  sickness,  I  desire  to  tell 
the  reader  that  he  was  of  a  healthful  constitution,  cheerful  and 
mild,  of  an  even  temper,  very  moderate  in  his  diet,  and  had  had 
little  sickness,  till  some  few  years  before  his  death ;  but  was  then 
every  winter  punished  with  a  diarrhoea,  which  left  him  not  till 
warm  weather  returned  and  removed  it :  and  this  distemper  did, 
as  he  grew  older,  seize  him  oftener,  and  continue  longer  with  him. 
But  though  it  weakened  him,  yet  it  made  him  rather  indisposed 
than  sick,  and  did  no  way  disable  him  from  studying  (indeed  too 
much).  In  this  decay  of  his  strength,  but  not  of  his  memory  or 
reason  (for  this  distemper  works  not  upon  the  understanding),  he 
made  his  last  will,  of  which  I  shall  give  some  account  for  con- 
firmation of  what  hath  been  said,  and  what  I  think  convenient  to 
be  known,  before  I  declare  his  death  and  burial. 

He  did  in  his  last  will  give  an  account  of  his  faith  and  persua- 
sion in  point  of  religion  and  church-government,  in  these  very 
words : 

"  I  Robert  Sanderson,  doctor  of  divinity,  an  unworthy  minister 
of  Jesus  Christ,  and  by  the  providence  of  God  bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, being  by  the  long  continuance  of  an  habitual  distemper 
brought  to  a  great  bodily  weakness  and  faintness  of  spirits,  but 
(by  the  great  mercy  of  God)  without  any  bodily  pain  otherwise, 
or  decay  of  understanding,  do  make  this  my  will  and  testament 
(written  all  with  my  own  hand)  revoking  all  former  wills  by  me 
heretofore  made,  if  any  such  shall  be  found.  First,  I  commend 
my  soul  into  the  hands  of  Almighty  God,  as  of  a  faithful  Creator, 
which  I  humbly  beseech  him  mercifully  to  accept,  looking  upon 
it,  not  as  it  is  in  itself  (infinitely  polluted  with  sin)  but  as  it  is 
redeemed  and  purged  with  the  precious  blood  of  his  only  beloved 
Son,  and  my  most  sweet  saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  in  confidence  of 
whose  merits  and  mediation  alone  it  is,  that  I  cast  myself  upon 


476  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

the  mercy  of  God  for  the  pardon  of  my  sins,  and  the  hopes  of 
eternal  life.  And  here  I  do  profess,  that  as  I  have  lived,  so  I 
desire  and  (by  the  grace  of  God)  resolve  to  die  in  the  communion 
of  the  catholic  church  of  Christ,  and  a  true  son  of  the  church  of 
England ;  which,  as  it  stands  by  law  established,  to  be  both  in 
doctrine  and  worship  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God,  and  in  the 
most,  and  most  material  points  of  both,  conformable  to  the  faith 
and  practice  of  the  godly  churches  of  Christ  in  the  primitive  and 
purer  times,  I  do  firmly  believe :  led  so  to  do,  not  so  much  from 
the  force  of  custom  and  education  (to  which  the  greatest  part 
of  mankind  owe  their  particular  different  persuasions  in  point  of 
religion,)  as  upon  the  clear  evidence  of  truth  and  reason,  after 
a  serious  and  unpartial  examination  of  the  grounds,  as  well 
of  popery  as  puritanism,  according  to  that  measure  of  under- 
standing, and  those  opportunities  which  God  hath  afforded  me : 
and  herein  I  am  abundantly  satisfied,  that  the  schism  which  the 
papists  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  superstition  which  the  puritan 
on  the  other  hand,  lay  to  our  charge,  are  very  justly  chargeable 
upon  themselves  respectively8.  Wherefore  I  humbly  beseech 
Almighty  God,  the  Father  of  mercies,  to  preserve  the  church  by 
his  power  and  providence,  in  peace,  truth,  and  godliness,  evermore 
to  the  world's  end  :  which  doubtless  he  will  do,  if  the  wickedness 
and  security  of  a  sinful  people  (and  particularly  those  sins  that 
are  so  rife,  and  seem  daily  to  increase  among  us,  of  unthankful- 
ness,  riot,  and  sacrilege)  do  not  tempt  his  patience  to  the  con- 
trary. And  I  also  farther  humbly  beseech  him,  that  it  would 
please  him  to  give  unto  our  gracious  sovereign,  the  reverend 
bishops,  and  the  parliament,  timely  to  consider  the  great  danger 
that  visibly  threatens  his  church  in  point  of  religion  by  the  late 
great  increase  of  popery,  and  in  point  of  revenue  by  sacrilegious 
inclosures  ;  and  to  provide  such  wholesome  and  effectual  remedies 
as  may  prevent  the  same  before  it  be  too  late." 

And  for  a  further  manifestation  of  his  humble  thoughts  and 
desires,  they  may  appear  to  the  reader,  by  another  part  of  lii.s 
will  which  follows : 

"  As  for  my  corruptible  body,  I  bequeath  it  to  the  earth  win -nr<> 
it  was  taken,  to  be  decently  buried  in  the  parish  church  of  Huck- 
den,  towards  the  upper  end  of  the  chancel,  upon  the  second,  or 
(at  the  farthest)  the  third  day  after  my  dm-usi-  ;  :md  that  with 

6  Themselves  respectively.}  See  Christian  Institutes,  vol.  iv.  p.  313,  14. 
546.  573—5.  658,  9. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  477 

as  little  noise,  pomp,  and  charge  as  may  be,  without  the  invitation 
of  any  person  how  near  soever  related  unto  me,  other  than  the 
inhabitants  of  Bnckden  ;  without  the  unnecessary  expence  of 
escutcheons,  gloves,  ribbons,  &c.  and  without  any  blacks  to  be 
hung  any  where  in  or  about  the  house  or  church,  other  than  a 
pulpit- cloth,  a  hearse-cloth,  and  a  mourning  gown  for  the  preacher ; 
whereof  the  former,  (after  my  body  shall  be  interred)  to  be  given 
to  the  preacher  of  the  funeral  sermon,  and  the  latter  to  the  curate 
of  the  parish  for  the  time  being.  And  my  will  further  is,  that 
the  funeral  sermon  be  preached  by  my  own  houshold  chaplain, 
containing  some  wholesome  discourse  concerning  mortality,  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  the  last  judgment ;  and  that  he  shall 
have  for  his  pains  %L  upon  condition,  that  he  speak  nothing  at  all 
concerning  any  person  either  good  or  ill,  other  than  I  myself 
shall  direct ;  only  signifying  to  the  auditory  that  it  was  my  ex- 
press will  to  have  it  so.  And  it  is  my  will,  that  no  costly  monu- 
ment be  erected  for  my  memory,  but  only  a  fair  flat  marble  stone 
to  be  laid  over  me,  with  this  inscription  in  legible  roman  charac- 
ters,— Depositum  Robert*  Sanderson  nuper  Lincolniensis  episcopi, 
qui  obiit  anno  Domini  MDCLXII.  et  cetatis  suce  septuagesimo 
sexto.  Hie  requiescit  in  spe  beatce  resurrectionis.  This  manner  of 
burial,  although  I  cannot  but  foresee  it  will  prove  unsatisfactory 
to  sundry  my  nearest  friends  and  relations,  and  be  apt  to  be 
censured  by  others,  as  an  evidence  of  my  too  much  parsimony 
and  narrowness  of  mind,  as  being  altogether  unusual,  and  not 
according  to  the  mode  of  these  times  ;  yet  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
sense  of  my  heart,  and  I  do  very  much  desire  my  will  may  be 
carefully  observed  herein,  hoping  it  may  become  exemplary  to 
some  or  other  :  at  least  howsoever  testifying  at  my  death  (what 
I  have  so  often  and  earnestly  professed  in  my  life  time)  my  utter 
dislike  of  the  flatteries  commonly  used  in  funeral  sermons,  and  of 
the  vast  expences  otherwise  laid  out  in  funeral  solemnities  and 
entertainments,  with  very  little  benefit  to  any,  which  (if  be- 
stowed in  pious  and  charitable  works)  might  redound  to  the 
public  or  private  benefit  of  many  persons."  This  is  a  part  of 
his  will. 

I  am  next  to  tell,  that  he  died  the  29th  of  January  1662,  and 
that  his  body  was  buried  in  Buckden  the  third  day  after  his  death ; 
and  for  the  manner,  that  it  was  as  far  from  ostentation  as  he  de- 
sired it ;  and  all  the  rest  of  his  will  was  as  punctually  performed. 
And  when  I  have  (to  his  just  praise)  told  this  truth,  That  he 


478  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

died  far  from  being  rich,  I  shall  return  back  to  visit,  and  give  a 
further  account  of  him  on  his  sick  bed. 

His  last  will  (of  which  I  have  mentioned  a  part)  was  made 
about  three  weeks  before  his  death,  about  which  time,  finding  his 
strength  to  decay,  by  reason  of  his  constant  infirmity  and  a  con- 
sumptive cough  added  to  it,  he  retired  to  his  chamber,  expressing 
a  desire  to  enjoy  his  last  thoughts  by  himself  in  private,  without 
disturbance  or  care,  especially  of  what  might  concern  this  world. 
Thus  as  his  natural  life  decayed,  his  spiritual  life  seemed  to  be 
more  strong,  and  his  faith  more  confirmed :  still  labouring  to 
attain  that  holiness  and  purity,  without  which  none  shall  see  God. 
And  that  not  any  of  his  clergy  (which  are  more  numerous  than 
any  other  bishop^s  of  this  nation)  might  suffer  by  his  retirement, 
he  did  by  commission  empower  his  chaplain,  Mr.  Pullin,  with 
episcopal  power,  to  give  institutions  to  all  livings  or  church-pre- 
ferments, during  this  his  disability  to  do  it  himself.  In  this  time 
of  his  retirement,  which  was  wholly  spent  in  devotion,  he  longed 
for  his  dissolution ;  and  when  some  that  loved  him  prayed  for 
his  recovery,  if  he  at  any  time  found  any  amendment,  he  seemed 
to  be  displeased,  by  saying,  "  His  friends  said  their  prayers  back- 
ward for  him  :  and  that  it  was  not  his  desire  to  live  a  useless  life, 
and  by  filling  up  a  place,  keep  another  out  of  it,  that  might  do 
God  and  his  church  more  service."  He  would  often  with  much 
joy  and  thankfulness  mention,  "  That  during  his  being  a  house- 
keeper (which  was  more  than  forty  years)  there  had  not  been  one 
buried  out  of  his  family,  and  that  he  was  now  like  to  be  the  first." 
He  would  also  mention  with  thankfulness,  "  That  till  he  was  three- 
score years  of  age,  he  had  never  spent  five  shillings  in  law,  nor 
(upon  himself)  so  much  in  wine :  and  rejoiced  much  that  he  had 
so  lived  as  never  to  cause  an  hour's  sorrow  to  his  good  father ; 
and  that  he  hoped  that  he  should  die  without  an  enemy." 

He  in  this  retirement  had  the  church  prayers  read  in  his  cham- 
ber twice  every  day  :  and  at  nine  at  night  some  prayers  read  to 
him  and  a  part  of  his  family  out  of  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man.  As 
he  was  remarkably  punctual  and  regular  in  all  his  studies  and 
actions,  so  he  used  himself  to  be  for  his  meals :  and  his  dinner 
being  appointed  to  be  constantly  ready  at  the  ending  of  prayers, 
and  he  expecting  and  calling  for  it,  was  answered  "  It  would  be 
ready  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour."  To  which  his  reply  was  with 
some  earnestness,  "  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ?  is  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  nothing  to  a  man  that  probably  has  not  many  hours  to 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  479 

live  2"  And  though  he  did  live  many  hours  after  this,  yet  he  lived 
not  many  days  ;  for  the  day  after  (which  was  three  days  before 
his  death)  he  was  become  so  weak  and  weary  either  of  motion  or 
sitting,  that  he  was  content,  or  forced  to  keep  his  bed.  In  which 
I  desire  he  may  rest,  till  I  have  given  some  short  account  of  his 
behaviour  there,  and  immediately  before  it. 

The  day  before  he  took  his  bed  (which  was  three  days  before 
his  death)  he,  that  he  might  receive  a  new  assurance  for  the 
pardon  of  his  sins  past,  and  be  strengthened  in  his  way  to  the 
New  Jerusalem,  took  the  blessed  sacrament  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  his,  and  our  blessed  Jesus,  from  the  hands  of  his  chap- 
lain Mr.  Pullin,  accompanied  with  his  wife,  children,  and  a  friend, 
in  as  awful,  humble,  and  ardent  a  manner,  as  outward  reverence 
could  express.  After  the  praise  and  thanksgiving  for  this  bless- 
ing was  ended,  he  spake  to  this  purpose ;  "I  have  now  to  the 
great  joy  of  my  soul  tasted  of  the  all-saving  sacrifice  of  my 
Saviour's  death  and  passion ;  and  with  it,  received  a  spiritual 
assurance  that  my  sins  past  are  pardoned,  and  my  God  at  peace 
with  me :  and  that  I  shall  never  have  a  will,  or  power  to  do  any 
thing  that  may  separate  my  soul  from  the  love  of  my  dear  Sa- 
viour. Lord  confirm  this  belief  in  me ;  and  make  me  still  to 
remember  that  it  was  thou  0  God  that  tookest  me  out  of  my 
mother's  womb,  and  hast  been  the  powerful  protector  of  me  to 
this  present  moment  of  my  life  :  thou  hast  neither  forsaken  me 
now  I  am  become  grey-headed,  nor  suffered  me  to  forsake  thee  in 
the  late  days  of  temptation,  and  sacrifice  my  conscience  for  the 
preservation  of  my  liberty  or  estate.  It  was  not  of  myself  but 
by  grace  that  I  have  stood,  when  others  have  fallen  under  my 
trials :  and  these  mercies  1  now  remember  with  joy  and  thank- 
fulness ;  and  my  hope  and  desire  is  that  I  might  die  remembering 
this,  and  praising  thee  my  merciful  God."  The  frequent  repeti- 
tion of  the  psalms  of  David  hath  been  noted  to  be  a  great  part  of 
the  devotion  of  the  primitive  Christians :  the  psalms  having  in 
them,  not  only  prayers  and  holy  instructions,  but  such  commemo- 
rations of  God's  mercies,  as  may  preserve,  comfort,  and  confirm 
our  dependance  on  the  power,  and  providence,  and  mercy  of  our 
Creator.  And  this  is  mentioned  in  order  to  telling,  that  as  the 
holy  psalmist  said,  that  his  eyes  should  prevent  loth  the  dawning  of 
the  day  and  the  night  watches,  by  meditating  on  God's  word ;  so  it 
was  Dr.  Sanderson's  constant  practice  every  morning  to  entertain 
his  first  waking  thoughts  with  a  repetition  of  those  very  psalms, 
that  the  church  hath  appointed  to  be  constantly  read  in  the  daily 


480  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

morning  service ;  and  having  at  night  laid  him  in  his  bed,  he  as 
constantly  closed  his  eyes  with  a  repetition  of  those  appointed  for 
the  service  of  the  evening ;  remembering  and  repeating  the  very 
psalms  appointed  for  every  day ;  and  as  the  month  had  formerly 
ended  and  began  again,  so  did  this  exercise  of  his  devotion.  And 
if  the  first  fruits  of  his  waking  thoughts  were  of  the  world,  or 
what  concerned  it,  he  would  arraign  and  condemn  himself  for  it. 
Thus  he  began  that  work  on  earth  which  is  now  the  employment 
of  Dr.  Hammond  and  him  in  heaven. 

After  his  taking  his  bed,  and  about  a  day  before  his  death,  he 
desired  his  chaplain,  Mr.  Pullin,  to  give  him  absolution :  and  at 
his  performing  that  office,  he  pulled  off  his  cap,  that  Mr.  Pullin 
might  lay  his  hand  upon  his  bare  head.  After  this  desire  of  his 
was  satisfied,  his  body  seemed  to  be  at  more  ease,  and  his  mind 
more  cheerful ;  and  he  said  often,  "  Lord,  forsake  me  not  now  my 
strength  faileth  me,  but  continue  thy  mercy,  and  let  my  mouth  be 
ever  filled  with  thy  praise.11  He  continued  the  remaining  ni^ht 
and  day  very  patient,  and  thankful  for  any  of  the  little  offices  that 
were  performed  for  his  ease  and  refreshment :  and  during  that 
time,  did  often  say  to  himself  the  103d  psalm,  (a  psalm  that  is 
composed  of  praise  and  consolations,  fitted  for  a  dying  soul,)  and 
say  also  to  himself  very  often  these  words,  "My  heart  is  fixed,  0 
God,  my  heart  is  fixed  where  true  joy  is  to  be  found"  And  now  his 
thoughts  seemed  to  be  wholly  of  death,  for  which  he  was  so  pre- 
pared, that  that  King  of  Terrors  could  not  surprise  him  as  a  thief 
in  the  night ;  for  he  had  often  said,  "  he  was  prepared,  and  longed 
for  it.11  And  as  this  desire  seemed  to  come  from  heaven,  so  it 
left  him  not,  till  his  soul  ascended  to  that  region  of  blessed  spirits, 
whose  employments  are  to  join  in  consort  with  his,  and  sing  praise 
and  glory  to  that  God,  who  hath  brought  him  and  them  to  that 
place,  into  which  sin  and  sorrow  cannot  enter. 

Thus  this  pattern  of  meekness  and  primitive  innocence  chaiiL 
this  for  a  better  life : — it  is  now  too  late  to  wish  that  mine  may 
be  like  his  (for,  I  am  in  the  eighty-fifth  year  of  my  age;  and, 
God  knows  it  hath  not)  :  but,  I  most  humbly  beseech  Almighty 
God  that  my  death  may  ;  and  I  do  as  earnestly  beg,  that  if  any 
reader  shall  receive  any  satisfaction  from  this  very  plain,  and  as 
true  relation,  he  will  be  so  charitable,  as  to  say  Amen. 

I.  W. 

••  Bl«'»<'d  is  that  man  in  whose  sj.jrit  there  is  no  guile.*'     Psal. 
\x\ii.  2. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  481 


DR.  PIEECE,    DEAN  OF  SALISBURY,  HIS    LETTER    TO   MR.  WALTON. 

Good  Mr.  Walton, 

AT  my  return  to  this  place,  I  made  a  yet  stricter  search  after 
the  letters  long  ago  sent  me  from  our  most  excellent  Dr.  Sander- 
son before  the  happy  restoration  of  the  king  and  church  of  Eng- 
land to  their  several  rights ;  in  one  of  which  letters  more  espe- 
cially, he  was  pleased  to  give  me  a  narrative  both  of  the  rise  and 
the  progress,  and  reasons  also,  as  well  of  his  younger,  as  of  his  last 
and  riper  judgment,  touching  the  famous  points  controverted  be- 
tween the  Calvinians  and  the  Arminians,  as  they  are  commonly 
(though  unjustly  and  unskilfully)  miscalled  on  either  side. 

The  whole  letter  I  allude  to,  does  consist  of  several  sheets, 
whereof  a  good  part  has  been  made  public  long  ago  by  the  most 
learned,  most  judicious,  most  pious  Dr.  Hammond  (to  whom  I. 
sent  it  both  for  his  private,  and  for  the  public  satisfaction,  if  he 
thought  fit)  in  his  excellent  book,  entituled  a  Pacific  Discourse  of 
GocFs  Grace  and  Decrees,  in  full  accordance  with  Dr.  Sanderson  : 
to  which  discourse  I  refer  you  for  an  account  of  Dr.  Sanderson, 
and  the  history  of  his  thoughts  in  his  own  hand-writing,  wherein 
I  sent  it  to  Westwood,  as  I  received  it  from  Boothby  Pannel. 
And  although  the  whole  book  (printed  in  the  year  1660,  and 
reprinted  since  with  his  other  tracts  in  folio)  is  very  worthy  of 
your  perusal ;  yet  for  the  work  you  are  about,  you  shall  not  have 
need  to  read  more  at  present,  than  from  the  8th  to  the  23rd  page, 
and  as  far  as  the  end  of  section  33.  There  you  will  find  in  what 
year  the  excellent  man,  whose  life  you  write,  became  a  master  of 
arts.  How  his  first  reading  of  learned  Hooker  had  been  occa- 
sioned by  some  puritanical  pamphlets ;  and  how  good  a  prepara- 
tive he  found  it  for  his  reading  of  Calvin's  Institutions,  the  honour 
of  whose  name  (at  that  time  especially)  gave  such  credit  to  his 
errors.  How  he  erred  with  Mr.  Calvin  (whilst  he  took  things 
upon  trust)  in  the  sublapsarian  way.  How  being  chosen  to  be  a 
clerk  of  the  convocation  for  the  diocese  of  Lincoln,  1625,  he 
reduced  the  Quinquarticular  Controversy  into  five  schemes  or 
tables ;  and  thereupon  discerned  a  necessity  of  quitting  the  sublap- 
sarian way  (of  which  he  had  before  a  better  liking)  as  well  as  the 
supralapsarian,  which  he  could  never  fancy.  There  you  will  meet 
with  his  two  weighty  reasons  against  them  both ;  and  find  his 
happy  change  of  judgment  to  have  been  ever  since  the  year  1 625f 

VOL.  IV.  I  i 


482  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

even  thirty-four  years  before  the  world  either  knew,  or  (at  least) 
took  notice  of  it.  And  more  particularly  his  reasons  for  rejecting 
Dr.  Twiss  (or  the  way  he  walks  in)  although  his  acute,  and  very 
learned  and  ancient  friend. 

c  I  now  proceed  to  let  you  know  from  Dr.  Sandersons  own  hand, 
which  was  never  printed  (and  which  you  can  hardly  know  from 
any,  unless  from  his  son,  or  from  myself)  That  when  that  parlia- 
ment was  broken  up,  and  the  convocation  therewith  dissolved,  a 
gentleman  of  his  acquaintance,  by  occasion  of  some  discourse 
about  these  points,  told  him  of  a  book,  not  long  before  published 
at  Paris  (A.D.  1623,)  by  a  d  Spanish  bishop,  who  had  undertaken 
to  clear  the  differences  in  the  great  controversy  De  Concordla 
Gratice  et  Liberi  Arbitrii.  And  because  his  friend  perceived  he 
was  greedily  desirous  to  see  the  book,  he  sent  him  one  of  them 
containing  the  four  first  books  of  twelve  which  he  intended  then 
to  publish.  "  When  I  had  read"  (says  Dr.  Sanderson,  in  the 
following  words,  of  the  same  letter)  "  his  epistle  dedicatory  to  the 
pope  (Greg.  15,)  he  spake  so  highly  of  his  oicn  invention,  that  I 
then  began  rather  to  suspect  him  for  a  mountebank,  than  to  hope  I 
should  find  satisfaction  from  his  performances.  I  found  much  con- 
fidence, and  great  pomp  of  words,  but  little  matter  as  to  the  maiii 
knot  of  the  business,  other  than  had  been  said  an  hundred  times  before, 
to  wit,  of  the  co-existence  of  all  things  past,  present,  and  future  in 
mente  divina  realiter  ab  seterno,  which  is  the  subject  of  his  whole 
third  book ;  only  he  interpreteth  the  word  realiter  so,  as  to  import 
not  only  prsesentialitatem  objectivam  (as  others  held  before 
but  propriam  et  actualem  existentiam.  Yet  confesseth  it  is 
to  make  this  intelligible.  In  his  fourth  book  he  endeavours  to  d>  • 
a  two-fold  manner  of  Gotfs  working  ad  extra ;  the  one  sub  online 
Prsedestinationis,  of  which  eternity  is  the  proper  measure ;  the  other 
sub  ordine  Gratiae,  whereof  time  is  the  measure.  And  that  God 
worketh  fortiter  in  the  one  (though  not  irresistibiliter)  as  well  as 
suaviter  in  the  other,  wherein  the  free-will  hath  his  proper  working 
also.  From  the  result  of  his  whole  performance  I  was  confirmed  in 
this  opinion,  that  we  must  acknowledge  the  work  of  both  (grace  and 
free-will)  in  the  conversion  of  a  sinner.  And  so  likewise  in  all  other 
events,  the  consistency  of  the  infallibility  of  GocT 8  foreknowledge  at 

«  Sir,  I  pray  note,  That  all  that  follows  in  the  Italian  character,  are  Dr. 
Sanderson's  own  words,  excellently  worthy,  but  no  where  else  extant ;  and 
commend  him  as  much  as  any  thing  you  can  say  of  him.  T.  P. 

d  Francisco  de  Arriba. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  483 

least  (though  not  with  any  absolute,  but  conditional  predestination) 
with  the  liberty  of  mans  will,  and  the  contingency  of  inferior  causes 
and  effects.  These,  I  say,  we  must  acknowledge  for  the  on :  but  for 
the  TO  TTWC,  /  thought  it  bootless  for  me  to  think  of  comprehending  it. 
And  so  came  the  two  Acta  Synodalia  Dordrectana  to  stand  in  my 
study,  only  to  fill  up  a  room  to  this  day. 

"  And  yet  see  the  restless  curiosity  of  man.  Not  many  years  after, 
to  wit,  A.D.  1632,  out  cometh  Dr.  Twiss^s  Vindicise  Gratise,  a  large 
volume  purposely  writ  against  Arminius.  And  then  notwithstand- 
ing my  former  resolution,  I  must  needs  be  meddling  again.  The 
respect  I  bore  to  his  person  and  great  learning,  and  the  long  acquaint- 
ance I  had  had  with  him  in  Oxford,  drew  me  to  the  reading  of  that 
whole  book.  But  from  the  reading  of  it  (for  I  read  it  through  to  a 
syllable)  I  went  away  with  many  and  great  dissatisfactions.  Sundry 
things  in  that  book  I  took  notice  of,  which  brought  me  into  a  greater 
dislike  of  his  opinion  than  I  had  before.  But  especially  these  three: 
First,  that  he  bottometh  very  much  of  his  discourse  upon  a  very 
erroneous  principle,  which  yet  he  seemeth  to  be  so  deeply  in  love  with, 
that  he  hath  repeated  it  (I  verily  believe)  some  hundreds  of  times  in 
that  work :  to  wit  this,  that  whatsoever  is  first  in  the  intention,  is  last 
in  execution,  and  e  converse.  Which  is  an  error  of  that  magni- 
tude, that  I  cannot  but  wonder,  how  a  person  of  such  acuteness  and 
subtilty  of  wit  could  possibly  be  deceived  with.it.  All  logicians  know, 
there  is  no  such  universal  maxim  as  he  buildeth  upon.  The  true 
maxim  is  but  this,  Finis  qui  primus  est  in  intentione,  est  ultimus 
in  executione.  In  the  order  of  final  causes,  and  the  means  used  for 
that  end,  the  rule  holdeth  perpetually :  but  in  other  things,  it  holdeth 
not  at  all,  or  but  by  chance;  or  not  as  a  rule,  and  necessarily. 
Secondly,  that,  foreseeing  such  consequences  would  naturally  and 
necessarily  follow  from  his  opinion,  as  would  offend  the  ear  of  a  sober 
Christian  at  the  very  first  sound,  he  would  yet  rather  choose  not  only 
to  admit  the  said  harsh  consequences,  but  professedly  endeavour  also 
to  maintain  them,  and  plead  hard  for  them  in  large  digressions,  than 
to  recede  in  the  least  from  that  opinion  which  he  had  undertaken  to 
defend.  Thirdly,  that  seeing  (out  of  the  sharpness  of  his  wit)  a 
necessity  of  forsaking  the  ordinary  sublapsarian  way,  and  the  supra- 
lapsarian  too,  as  it  had  diversely  been  declared  by  all  that  had  gone 
before  him  (for  the  shunning  of  those  rocks,  which  either  of  those  ways 
must  unavoidably  cast  him  upon}  he  was  forced  to  seek  out  an  un- 
trodden path,  and  to  frame  out  of  his  own  brain  a  new  way  (like  a 
spider's  web  wrought  out  of  her  own  bowels)  hoping  by  that  device  to 


484  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

salve  all  absurdities  which  could  be  objected ;  to  wit,  by  making  the 
glory  of  God  (as  it  is  indeed  the  chief est,)  so  the  only  end  of  all  oilier 
his  decrees,  and  then  making  all  those  other  decrees  to  be  but  one  entire 
co-ordinate  medium  conducing  to  that  one  end,  and  so  tJte  whole 
subordinate  to  it,  but  not  any  one  part  thereof  subordinate  to  any 
other  of  the  same.  •  Dr.  Twiss  should  have  done  well  to  have  been 
more  sparing  in  imputing  the  studium  partium  to  others,  wherewith 
his  own  eyes  (though  of  eminent  perspicacity)  were  so  strangely  blind- 
folded, that  he  could  not  discern,  how  this  his  new  device,  and  his 
old  dearly  beloved  principle  (like  the  Cadmean  Sparti)  do  mutually 
destroy  the  one  the  other. 

"  This  relation  of  my  passed  thoughts  havinq  spun  out  to  afar 

J  */     JL  *7  */       L  J 

greater  length  than  I  intended,  I  shall  give  a  shorter  account  of  what 
Ihey  now  are  concerning  these  points." 

For  which  account  I  refer  you  to  tho  following  parts  of  Dr. 
Hammond's  book  aforesaid,  where  you  may  find  them  already 
printed.  And  for  another  account  at  large  of  bishop  Sanderson's 
last  judgment  concerning  God's  concurrence  or  non-concurrence 
with  the  actions  of  men,  and  the  positive  entity  of  sins  of  com- 
mission, I  refer  you  to  his  letters  already  printed  by  his  consent, 
in  my  large  appendix  to  my  Impartial  inquiry  into  the  nature  of 
sin.  Sect.  68,  p.  193,  as  far  as  p.  200. 

Sir,  I  have  rather  made  it  my  choice  to  transcribe  all  above  out 
of  the  letters  of  Dr.  Sanderson  which  lie  before  me,  than  venture 
the  loss  of  my  originals  by  post  or  carrier,  which,  though  not  often, 
yet  sometimes  fail.  Make  use  of  as  much,  or  as  little  as  you  please, 
of  what  I  send  you  from  himself  (because  from  his  own  letters  to 
me)  in  the  penning  of  his  life,  as  your  own  prudence  shall  direct 
you ;  using  my  name  for  your  warranty  in  the  account  given  of 
him,  as  much  or  as  little  as  you  please  too.  You  have  a  per- 
formance of  my  promise,  and  an  obedience  to  your  desires,  from 

Your  affectionate 
humble  servant, 

North-Tidworth,  THO.  PIER. 

March  5,  167  . 


TIIK    BISHOP    OF    LINCOLN  8    LETTER. 

My  worthy  friend  Mr.  Walton, 

I  AM  heartily  glad,  that  you  have  undertaken  to  \\rite  the  life 
of  that  excellent  person,  and  (both  for  learning  and  piety)  eminent 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  485 

prelate,  Dr.  Sanderson,  late  bishop  of  Lincoln ;  because  I  know 
your  ability  to  know,  and  integrity  to  write  truth :  and  sure  I  am 
that  the  life  and  actions  of  that  pious  and  learned  prelate  will 
afford  you  matter  enough  for  his  commendation,  and  the  imitation 
of  posterity.  In  order  to  the  carrying  on  your  intended  good  work, 
you  desire  my  assistance,  that  I  would  communicate  to  you  such 
particular  passages  of  his  life,  as  were  certainly  known  to  me.  I 
confess  I  had  the  happiness  to  be  particularly  known  to  him  for 
about  the  space  of  twenty  years,  and  (in  Oxon)  to  enjoy  his  con- 
versation, and  his  learned  and  pious  instructions  while  he  was 
regius  professor  of  divinity  there.  Afterwards,  when  (in  the  time 
of  our  late  unhappy  confusions)  he  left  Oxon,  and  was  retired  into 
the  country,  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  letters  ;  wherein  (with  great 
candour  and  kindness)  he  answered  those  doubts  I  proposed, 
and  gave  me  that  satisfaction,  which  I  neither  had,  nor  expected 
from  some  others  of  greater  confidence,  but  less  judgment  and 
humility. 

Having  in  a  letter  named  two  or  three  books  writ  (ex  professo) 
against  the  being  of  any  original  sin ;  and  that  Adam  (by  his 
fall)  transmitted  some  calamity  only,  but  no  crime  to  his  pos- 
terity ;  the  good  old  man  was  exceedingly  troubled,  and  bewailed 
the  misery  of  those  licentious  times,  and  seemed  to  wonder  (save 
that  the  times  were  such)  that  any  should  write,  or  be  permitted 
to  publish  any  error  so  contradictory  to  truth,  and  the  doctrine 
of  the  church  of  England,  established  (as  he  truly  said)  by  clear 
evidence  of  Scripture,  and  the  just  and  supreme  power  of  this 
nation,  both  sacred  and  civil.  I  name  not 7  the  books,  nor  their 


7  I  name  not.']  It  is  probable  that  part,  at  least,  of  the  writings  here  referred 
to,  are  certain  chapters  of  Jeremy  Taylor's  Doctrine  and  Practice  of  Repent- 
ance, and  his  Deus  Justificatus,  a  vindication  of  the  glory  of  the  divine  attri- 
butes in  the  question  of  original  sin. 

"  Dr.  White  Rennet,  bishop  of  Peterborough,  had  in  his  possession  the 
copies  of  two  letters  transcribed  from  the  originals  that  were  in  the  hands  of 
bishop  Barlow.  1.  Superscribed  'for  Mr.  Thomas  Barlow,  at  the  library  in 
Oxon,'  and  subscribed  '  your  very  loving  friend  and  servant,  Robert  Sander- 
son,' dated  'Botheby  Pagnell,  Sept.  28,  1656,'  importuning  Dr.  Barlow,  'to 
undertake  the  managing  that  dispute  in  the  question  of  great  importance, 
upon  the  ancient  landmarks  by  Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor,  so  unhappily  (and  so 
unseasonably  too)  endeavoured  to  be  removed,  in  the  doctrine  of  original 
sin.'  2.  Another  letter  of  Dr.  Sanderson  to  Dr.  Barlow,  at  Queen's  College^ 
dated  '  Botheby  Pagnell,  Sept.  17, 1657,'  expressing  himself,  'that  Dr.  Taylor 
is  so  peremptory  and  pertinacious  of  his  errors,  as  not  to  hearken  to  the  sober 


486  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

authors,  which  are  not  unknown  to  learned  men  (and  I  wish 
they  had  never  been  known)  because  both  the  doctrine,  and  the 
unadvised  abettors  of  it  are  (and  shall  be)  to  me  apocryphal. 

Another  little  story  I  must  not  pass  in  silence,  being  an  argu- 
ment of  Dr.  Sanderson's  piety,  great  ability  and  judgment  as  a 
casuist.  Discoursing  with  an  e  honourable  person  (whose  piety  I 
value  more  than  his  nobility  and  learning,  though  both  be  great) 
about  a  case  of  conscience  concerning  oaths  and  vows,  their 
nature  and  obligation ;  in  which  (for  some  particular  reasons)  he 
then  desired  more  fully  to  be  informed ;  I  commended  to  him 
Dr.  Sanderson's  book  De  Juramento :  which  having  read  (with 
great  satisfaction)  he  asked  me,  if  I  thought  the  doctor  could  be 
induced  to  write  cases  of  conscience,  if  he  might  have  an  hono- 
rary pension  allowed  him,  to  furnish  him  with  books  for  that 
purpose  ?  I  told  him  I  believed  he  would  :  and  (in  a  letter  to 
the  doctor)  told  him  what  great  satisfaction  that  honourable 
person  (and  many  more)  had  reaped  by  reading  his  book  De 
Juramento :  and  asked  him,  whether  he  would  be  pleased  (for  the 
benefit  of  the  church)  to  write  some  tract  of  cases  of  conscience  ? 
He  replied,  that  he  was  glad  that  any  had  received  any  benefit 
by  his  books ;  and  added  further,  that  if  any  future  tract  of  his 
could  bring  such  benefit  to  any,  as  we  seemed  to  say  his  former 
had  done,  he  would  willingly  (though  without  any  pension)  set 
about  that  work.  Having  received  this  answer,  that  honourable 
person  (before  mentioned)  did  (by  my  hands)  return  fifty  pounds 
to  the  good  doctor  (whose  condition  then,  as  most  good  men's 
at  that  time  were,  was  but  low)  and  he  presently  revised,  finished, 
and  published  that  excellent  book  De  Conscientia.  A  book  little 
in  bulk ;  but  not  so  if  we  consider  the  benefit  an  intelligent 
reader  may  receive  by  it.  For  there  are  so  many  general  propo- 
sitions concerning  conscience,  the  nature  and  obligation  of  it  ex- 
plained and  proved  with  such  firm  consequence  and  evidence  of 
reason,  that  he  who  reads,  remembers,  and  can  (with  prudence) 
pertinently  apply  them  Hie  et  nunc  to  particular  cases,  may  (by 
their  light  and  help)  rationally  resolve  a  thousand  particular 
doubts  and  scruples  of  conscience.  Here  you  may  see  the 
charity  of  that  honourable  person  in  promoting,  and  the  piety 

advices  of  his  grave,  reverend,  and  learned  friends,  amidst  the  distractions  of 
these  times.'     See  Rennet's  Register,  p.  633." — From  Dr.  Zouch's  edition  of 
Walton's  Lives,  p.  442.  2nd  edit. 
r  Robt.  Boyle,  1>.|. 


BISHOP  SANDERSON.  487 

and  industry  of  the  good  doctor  in  performing   that  excellent 
work. 

And  here  I  shall  add  the  judgment  of  that  learned  and  pious 
prelate  concerning  a  passage  very  pertinent  to  our  present  pur- 
pose. When  he  was  in  Oxon,  and  read  his  public  lectures  in  the 
schools  as  regius  professor  of  divinity,  and  by  the  truth  of  his 
positions,  and  evidences  of  his  proofs,  gave  great  content  and 
satisfaction  to  all  his  hearers,  especially  in  his  clear  resolutions  of 
all  difficult  cases  which  occurred  in  the  explication  of  the  subject 
matter  of  his  lectures ;  a  person  of  quality  (yet  alive)  privately 
asked  him,  what  course  a  young  divine  should  take  in  his  studies 
to  enable  him  to  be  a  good  casuist  ?  His  answer  was,  that  a 
convenient  understanding  of  the  learned  languages  (at  least  of 
Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin)  and  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  arts  and 
sciences  presupposed,  there  were  two  things  in  human  literature, 
a  comprehension  of  which  would  be  of  very  great  use,  to  enable 
a  man  to  be  a  rational  and  able  casuist,  which  otherwise  was  very 
difficult,  if  not  impossible  :  1 .  A  convenient  knowledge  of  moral 
philosophy  ;  especially  that  part  of  it  which  treats  of  the  nature 
of  human  actions :  to  know,  quid  sit  actus  humanus  (spontaneus, 
inmtus,  mixtus)  ?  unde  habent  lonitatem  et  malitiam  moralem  ?  an 
ex  genere  et  objecto,  vel  ex  circumstantiis  ?  How  the  variety  of 
circumstances  varies  the  goodness  or  evil  of  human  actions? 
How  far  knowledge  and  ignorance  may  aggravate  or  excuse, 
increase  or  diminish  the  goodness  or  evil  of  our  actions  ?  For 
every  case  of  conscience  being  only  this — Is  this  action  good  or 
bad  ?  May  I  do  it,  or  may  I  not  ?  He  who  (in  these)  knows 
not  how  and  whence  human  actions  become  morally  good  and 
evil,  never  can  (in  hypothesi)  rationally  and  certainly  determine, 
whether  this  or  that  particular  action  be  so.  2.  The  second 
thing,  which  (he  said)  would  be  a  great  help  and  advantage  to  a 
casuist,  was  a  convenient  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  obligation 
of  laws  in  general :  to  know  what  a  law  is ;  what  a  natural  and  a 
positive  law ;  what  is  required  to  the  latio,  dispensatio,  derogatio, 
vet  abrogatio  legis ;  what  promulgation  is  antecedently  required  to 
the  obligation  of  any  positive  law ;  what  ignorance  takes  off  the 
obligation  of  a  law,  or  does  excuse,  diminish,  or  aggravate  the 
transgression  :  for  every  case  of  conscience  being  only  this — Is 
this  lawful  for  me,  or  is  it  not  ?  and  the  law  the  only  rule  and 
measure,  by  which  I  must  judge  of  the  lawfulness  or  unlawfulness 
of  any  action  ;  it  evidently  follows,  that  he,  who  (in  these)  knows 


488  BISHOP  SANDERSON. 

not  the  nature  and  obligation  of  laws,  never  can  be  a  good  casuist, 
or  rationally  assure  himself  (or  others)  of  the  lawfulness  or  unlaw- 
fulness of  actions  in  particular.  This  was  the  judgment  and  good 
counsel  of  that  learned  and  pious  prelate ;  and  having  (by  long 
experience)  found  the  truth  and  benefit  of  it,  I  conceive,  I  could 
not  without  ingratitude  to  him,  and  want  of  charity  to  others, 
conceal  it. — Pray  pardon  this  rude,  and  (I  fear)  impertinent 
scribble,  which  (if  nothing  else)  may  signify  thus  much,  that  I 
am  willing  to  obey  your  desires,  and  am  indeed 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

THOMAS  LINCOLN. 
London,  May  10,  1678. 


RICHARD  BAXTER. 


I  am  much  more  sensible  of  the  evil  of  schism,  and  of  the  separating 
humour,  and  of  gathering  parties,  and  making  several  sects  in  the  church, 
than  I  was  heretofore.  For  the  effects  have  shewn  us  more  of  the  mischiefs. 

RICHARD  BAXTER. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


RICHARD  BAXTER  was  born  November  12, 1615,  at  High-Ercall, 
a  village  near  Shrewsbury,  in  Shropshire ;  and  died  in  London, 
December  8,  1691.  When  he  was  about  the  age  of  fourteen 
years,  very  deep  religious  impressions  were  made  upon  his  mind, 
in  the  perusal  of  a  work  of  Parson's  the  Jesuite,  translated  and 
corrected  by  Edmund  Bunny,  and  intitled  Parson's  Resolution. 
For  several  years  afterwards,  he  sustained  a  long  and  severe  con- 
flict, partly  with  the  maladies  of  a  weak  and  sickly  constitution 
of  body,  and  partly  from  the  questionings  of  a  trembling,  per- 
plexed and  doubtful  conscience ;  during  which  interval  he  care- 
fully read  over  all  the  practical  treatises  in  divinity  which  he 
could  meet  with,  in  search  of  quiet  and  satisfaction  of  mind.  He 
did  not  receive  the  advantages  of  an  academical  education. 
About  the  usual  age,  he  entered  into  the  ministry,  being  ordained 
by  Dr.  Thornborough,  bishop  of  Worcester,  and  preached  his 
first  sermon  at  Dudley.  After  continuing  in  that  town  for  nine 
months,  he  removed  to  Bridgnorth ;  and  from  thence,  in  the 
year  1640,  to  Kidderminster.  There  he  spent  two  years,  before 
the  civil  wars  (in  which  he  sided  with  the  parliament,)  and  about 
fourteen  years  after,  in  a  most  laborious  and  zealous  discharge  of 
the  duties  of  his  calling.  When  Cromwell  was  made  protector, 
though  much  courted  by  him,  he  refused  to  comply  with,  and  to 
countenance  his  measures :  and  likewise,  after  the  restoration,  he 
would  not  submit  to  the  required  terms  of  conformity  to  the 
church  of  England.  Hence,  during  a  great  part  of  the  reigns 
of  Charles  II.  and  James  II.  he  suffered  many  hardships  for 
non-conformity. 

Among  his  voluminous  and  valuable  writings  he  left  behind 
him  a  very  interesting  Narrative  of  the  most  memorable  Passages 
of  his  Life  and  Times  (London,  1696,  fol.)  from  the  conclusion 
of  the  first  part  of  which  work,  the  following  review  and  censure 
of  his  own  character  is  taken. 


RICHARD  BAXTER. 


BECAUSE  it  is  soul-experiments  which  those  that  urge  me  to  this 
kind  of  writing,  do  expect  that  I  should  especially  communicate 
to  others,  and  I  have  said  little  of  God's  dealing  with  my  soul 
since  the  time  of  my  younger  years,  I  shall  only  give  the  reader 
so  much  satisfaction  as  to  acquaint  him  truly  what  change  God 
hath  made  upon  my  mind  and  heart  since  those  unriper  times, 
and  wherein  I  now  differ  in  judgment  and  disposition  from 
myself.  And  for  any  more  particular  account  of  occurrences, 
and  God's  operations  on  me,  I  think  it  somewhat  unsavory  to 
recite  them ;  seeing  God's  dealings  are  muchwhat  the  same  with 
all  his  servants  in  the  main,  and  the  points  wherein  he  varieth 
are  usually  so  small,  that  I  think  not  such  fit  to  be  repeated : 
nor  have  I  any  thing  extraordinary  to  glory  in,  which  is  not 
common  to  the  rest  of  my  brethren,  who  have  the  same  spirit, 
and  are  servants  of  the  same  Lord.  And  the  true  reason  why  I 
do  adventure  so  far  upon  the  censure  of  the  world,  as  to  tell 
them  wherein  the  case  is  altered  with  me,  is  that  I  may  take  off 
young  unexperienced  Christians  from  being  over  confident  in 
their  first  apprehensions,  or  over  valuing  their  first  degrees  of 
grace,  or  too  much  applauding  and  following  unfurnished,  unex- 
perienced men ;  but  may  somewhat  be  directed  what  mind  and 
course  of  life  to  prefer  by  the  judgment  of  one  that  hath  tried 
both  before  them. 

The  temper  of  my  mind  hath  somewhat  altered  with  the 
temper  of  my  lody.  When  I  was  young,  I  was  more  vigorous, 
affectionate,  and  fervent  in  preaching,  conference  and  prayer, 
than  (ordinarily)  I  can  be  now ;  my  stile  was  more  extemp orate 
and  lax,  but  by  the  advantage  of  affection,  and  a  very  familiar 
moving  voice  and  utterance,  my  preaching  then  did  more  affect 


494  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

the  auditory,  than  many  of  the  last  years  before  I  gave  over 
preaching;  but  yet  what  I  delivered  was  much  more  raw,  and 
had  more  passages  that  would  not  bear  the  trial  of  accurate 
judgments ;  and  my  discourses  had  both  less  substance  and  less 
judgment  than  of  late. 

My  understanding  was  then  quicker,  and  could  easilier  manage 
any  thing  that  was  newly  presented  to  it  upon  a  sudden ;  but  it 
is  since  better  furnished,  and  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  truth 
and  error,  and  with  a  multitude  of  particular  mistakes  of  the 
world,  which  then  I  was  the  more  in  danger  of  because  I  had 
only  the  faculty  of  knowing  them,  but  did  not  actually  know 
them.  I  was  then  like  a  man  of  a  quick  understanding  that  was 
to  travel  a  way  which  he  never  went  before,  or  to  cast  up  an 
account  which  he  never  laboured  in  before,  or  to  play  on  an  instru- 
ment of  music  which  he  never  saw  before :  and  I  am  now  like 
one  of  somewhat  a  slower  understanding  (by  that  prcematura 
senectus  which  weakness  and  excessive  bleedings  brought  me  to) 
who  is  travelling  a  way  which  he  hath  often  gone,  and  is  casting 
up  an  account  which  he  hath  often  cast  up,  and  hath  ready  at 
hand,  and  that  is  playing  on  an  instrument  which  he  hath  often 
played  on  :  so  that  I  can  very  confidently  say,  that  my  judgment 
is  much  sounder  and  firmer  now  than  it  was  then  ;  for  though  I 
am  not  now  as  competent  judge  of  the  actings  of  my  own  under- 
standing then,  yet  I  can  judge  of  the  effects :' and  when  I  peruke 
the  writings  which  I  wrote  in  my  younger  years,  I  can  find  the 
footsteps  of  my  unfurnished  mind,  and  of  my  emptyness  and 
insufficiency:  so  that  the  man  that  followed  my  judgment  then. 
was  likelier  to  have  been  misled  by  me,  than  he  that  should 
follow  it  now. 

And  yet,  that  I  may  not  say  worse  than  it  deserveth  of  my 
former  measure  of  understanding,  I  shall  truly  tell  you  what 
change  I  find  now,  in  the  perusal  of  my  own  writings.  Th«»>»' 
points  which  then  I  thoroughly  studied,  my  judgment  is  the  same 
of  now,  as  it  was  then ;  and  therefore  in  the  substance  of  my 
religion,  and  in  those  controversies  which  I  then  searcht  into, 
with  some  extraordinary  diligence,  I  find  not  my  mind  disposed 
to  a  change ;  but  in  divers  points  that  I  studied  slightly  and  by 
the  halves,  and  in  many  things  which  I  took  upon  trust  from 
others,  I  have  found  since  that  my  apprelu -nsions  were  either 
erroneous,  or  very  lame.  And  those  things  which  I  was  orthodox 
in,  I  had  either  insufficient  reasons  for,  or  a  mixture  ..f  » 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  495 

sound  and  some  insufficient  ones,  or  else  an  insufficient  apprehension 
of  those  reasons ;  so  that  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  seemed  to  know. 
And  though  in  my  writings  I  have  found  little  in  substance  which 
my  present  judgment  differeth  from,  yet  in  my  Aphorisms  and 
Saints  Rest  (which  were  my  first  writings)  I  find  some  raw  unmeet 
expressions ;  and  one  common  infirmity  I  perceive,  that  I  put  off 
matters  with  some  kind  of  confidence,  as  if  I  had  done  some- 
thing new  or  more  than  ordinary  in  them,  when  upon  my  more 
mature  reviews,  I  find  that  I  said  not  half  that  which  the  subject 
did  require :  as  exempli  gratia,  in  the  doctrine  of  the  covenants, 
and  of  justification,  but  especially  about  the  divine  authority  of 
the  Scripture  in  the  second  part  of  the  Saints  Rest;  where  I 
have  not  said  half  that  should  have  been  said ;  and  the  reason 
was,  because  that  I  had  not  read  any  of  the  fuller  sort  of  books 
that  are  written  on  those  subjects,  nor  conversed  with  those  that 
knew  more  than  myself,  and  so  all  those  things  were  either  new 
or  great  to  me,  which  were  common  and  small  perhaps  to  others : 
and  because  they  all  came  in  by  the  way  of  my  own  study  of  the 
naked  matter,  and  not  from  books,  they  were  apt  to  affect  my 
mind  the  more,  and  to  seem  greater  than  they  were.  And  this 
token  of  my  weakness  accompanied  those  my  younger  studies, 
that  I  was  very  apt  to  start  up  controversies  in  the  way  of  my 
practical  writings,  and  also  more  desirous  to  acquaint  the  world 
with  all  that  I  took  to  be  the  truth,  and  to  assault  those  books 
by  name  which  I  thought  did  tend  to  deceive  them,  and  did 
contain  unsound  and  dangerous  doctrine.  And  the  reason  of  all 
this  was,  that  I  was  then  in  the  vigour  of  my  youthful  appre- 
hensions ;  and  the  new  appearance  of  any  sacred  truth,  it  was 
more  apt  to  affect  me,  and  be  highlier  valued,  than  afterward, 
when  commonness  had  dulled  my  delight ;  and  I  did  not  suffi- 
ciently discern  then  how  much  in  most  of  our  controversies  is 
verbal,  and  upon  mutual  mistakes.  And  withal  I  knew  not  how 
impatient  divines  were  of  being  contradicted,  nor  how  it  would 
stir  up  all  their  powers  to  defend  what  they  have  once  said,  and  to 
rise  up  against  the  truth  which  is  thus  thrust  upon  them,  as  the 
mortal  enemy  of  their  honour :  and  I  knew  not  how  hardly  men's 
minds  are  changed  from  their  former  apprehensions,  be  the  evidence 
never  so  plain.  And  I  have  perceived,  that  nothing  so  much 
hindereth  the  reception  of  the  truth,  as  urging  it  on  men  with 
too  harsh  importunity,  and  falling  too  heavily  on  their  errors : 
for  hereby  you  engage  their  honour  in  the  business,  and  they 


496  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

defend  their  errors  as  themselves,  and  stir  up  all  their  wit  and 
ability  to  oppose  you.  In  controversies  it  is  fierce  opposition 
which  is  the  bellows  to  kindle  a  resisting  zeal ;  when  if  they  be 
neglected,  and  their  opinions  lie  a  while  despised,  they  usually 
cool  and  conie  again  to  themselves  (though  I  know  that  this 
holdeth  not  when  the  greediness  and  increase  of  his  followers, 
doth  animate  a  sectary,  even  though  he  have  no  opposition). 
Men  are  so  loth  to  be  drenched  with  the  truth,  that  I  am  no 
more  for  going  that  way  to  work ;  and  to  confess  the  truth,  I 
am  lately  much  prone  to  the  contrary  extreme,  to  be  too  indif- 
ferent what  men  hold,  and  to  keep  my  judgment  to  myself,  and 
never  to  mention  any  thing  wherein  I  differ  from  another,  or 
any  thing  which  I  think  I  know  more  than  he ;  or  at  least,  if 
he  receive  it  not  presently,  to  silence  it,  and  leave  him  to  his 
own  opinion.  And  I  find  this  effect  is  mixed  according  to  its 
causes,  which  are  some  good,  and  some  bad.  The  bad  causes 
are,  1.  An  impatience  of  men's  weakness  and  mistaking  fro  ward- 
ness  and  self-conceitedness.  2.  An  abatement  of  my  sensible 
esteem  of  truths,  through  the  long  abode  of  them  on  my  mind  : 
though  my  judgment  value  them,  yet  it  is  hard  to  be  equally 
affected  with  old  and  .common  things,  as  with  new  and  rare  ones. 
The  better  causes  are,  1.  That  I  am  much  more  sensible  than 
ever  of  the  necessity  of  living  upon  the  principles  of  religion, 
which  we  are  all  agreed  in,  and  uniting  these ;  and  how  much 
mischief  men  that  over-value  their  own  opinions  have  done  by  their 
controversies  in  the  church ;  how  some  have  destroyed  charity, 
and  some  caused  schisms  by  them,  and  most  have  hindered  god- 
liness in  themselves  and  others,  and  used  them  to  divert  men 
from  the  serious  prosecuting  of  a  holy  life ;  and  as  sir  Francis 
Bacon  saith,  (in  his  Essay  of  Peace)  that  it  is  one  great  benefit 
of  church-peace  and  concord,  that  writing  controversies  is  turned 
into  books  of  practical  devotion  for  increase  of  piety  and  virtue. 
2.  And  I  find  that  it  is  much  more  for  most  men's  good  and 
edification,  to  converse  with  them  only  in  that  way  of  godliness 
which  all  are  agreed  in,  and  not  by  touching  upon  differences 
to  stir  up  their  corruptions ;  and  to  tell  them  of  little  more  of 
your  knowledge,  than  what  you  find  them  willing  to  receive  from 
you  as  meer  learners;  and  therefore  to  stay  till  they  crave  infor- 
mation of  you  (as  Musculus  did  with  the  Anabaptists;  \\lx -n 
he  visited  them  in  prison,  and  conversed  kindly  and  lovingly  with 
them,  and  showed  them  all  the  love  he  could,  and  never  talked  to 


RICHARD   BAXTER.  497 

them  of  their  opinions,  till  at  last  they  who  were  wont  to  call 
him  a  deceiver  and  false  prophet,  did  intreat  him  to  instruct 
them,  and  received  his  instructions).  We  misstate  men's  dis- 
eases when  we  think  there  needeth  nothing  to  cure  their  errors, 
but  only  to  bring  them  the  evidence  of  truth :  alas  !  there  are 
many  distempers  of  mind  to  be  removed,  before  men  are  apt  to 
receive  that  evidence.  And  therefore  that  church  is  happy 
where  order  is  kept  up,  and  the  abilities  of  the  ministers  com- 
mand a  reverend  submission  from  the  hearers  ;  and  where  all 
are  in  Christ's  school  in  the  distinct  ranks  of  teachers  and 
learners:  for  in  a  learning  way  men  are  ready  to  receive  the 
truth,  but  in  a  disputing  way  they  come  armed  against  it  with 
prejudice  and  animosity. 

And  I  must  say  farther,  that  what  I  last  mentioned  on  the 
by,  is  one  of  the  notablest  changes  of  my  mind.  In  my  youth  I 
was  quickly  past  my  fundamentals,  and  was  running  up  into  a 
multitude  of  controversies,  and  greatly  delighted  with  meta- 
physical and  scholastic  writings  (though  I  must  needs  say,  my 
preaching  was  still  on  the  necessary  points)  :  but  the  older  I 
grew  the  smaller  stress  I  laid  upon  these  controversies  and 
curiosities,  (though  still  my  intellect  abhorreth  confusion,)  as 
finding  far  greater  uncertainties  in  them,  than  I  at  first  discerned, 
and  finding  less  usefulness  comparatively,  even  where  there  is  the 
greatest  certainty.  And  now  it  is  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
the  catechism,  which  I  highliest  value,  and  daily  think  of,  and 
find  most  useful  to  myself  and  others.  The  Creed,  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  the  Ten  Commandments,  do  find  me  now  the  most 
acceptable  and  plentiful  matter  for  all  my  meditations  :  they  are 
to  me  as  my  daily  bread  and  drink  :  and  as  I  can  speak  and  write 
of  them  over  and  over  again,  so  I  had  rather  read  or  hear  of 
them,  than  of  any  of  the  school  niceties,  which  once  so  much 
pleased  me.  And  thus  I  observed  it  was  with  old  bishop  Usher, 
and  with  many  other  men :  and  I  conjecture  that  this  effect  also 
is  mixed  of  good  and  bad  according  to  its  causes. 

The  bad  cause  may  perhaps  be  some  natural  infirmity  and 
decay :  and  as  trees  in  the  spring  shoot  up  into  branches,  leaves 
and  blossoms ;  but  in  the  autumn  the  life  draws  down  into  the 
root ;  so  possibly,  my  nature,  conscious  of  its  infirmity  and  decay, 
may  find  itself  insufficient  for  numerous  particles,  and  assurgency 
to  the  attempting  of  difficult  things ;  and  so  my  mind  may  retire 
to  the  root  of  Christian  principles ;  and  also  I  have  often  been 

VOL.  iv.  K  k 


498  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

afraid,  lest  ill  rooting  at  first,  and  many  temptations  afterwards, 
have  made  it  more  necessary  for  me  than  many  others  to  retire 
to  the  root,  and  secure  my  fundamentals.  But  upon  much  obser- 
vation I  am  afraid  lest  most  others  are  in  no  better  a  case ;  and 
that  at  the  first  they  take  it  for  a  granted  thing,  that  Christ  is 
the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  that  the  soul  is  immortal,  and  that 
there  is  a  heaven  and  a  hell,  &c.  while  they  are  studying  abundance 
of  scholastic  superstructures,  and  at  last  will  find  cause  to  study 
more  soundly  their  religion  itself,  as  well  as  I  have  done. 

The  better  causes  are  these  :  1.  I  value  all  things  according 
to  their  use  and  ends ;  and  I  find  in  the  daily  practice  and  expe- 
rience of  my  soul,  that  the  knowledge  of  God  and  Christ,  and  the 
holy  Spirit,  and  the  truth  of  Scripture,  and  the  life  to  come,  and 
of  a  holy  life,  is  of  more  use  to  me  than  all  the  most  curious  spe- 
culations. 2.  I  know  that  every  man  must  grow  (as  trees  do) 
downwards  and  upwards  both  at  once ;  and  that  the  roots  increase 
as  the  bulk  and  branches  do.  3.  Being  nearer  death  and  another 
world,  I  am  the  more  regardful  of  those  things  which  my  ever- 
lasting life  or  death  depend  on.  4.  Having  most  to  do  with 
ignorant,  miserable  people,  I  am  commanded  by  my  charity  and 
reason,  to  treat  with  them  of  that  which  their  salvation  lieth  on ; 
and  not  to  dispute  with  them  of  formalities  and  niceties,  when 
the  question  is  presently  to  be  determined,  whether  they  shall 
dwell  for  ever  in  heaven  or  in  hell.  In  a  word,  my  meditations 
must  be  most  upon  the  matters  of  my  practice  and  my  interest : 
and  as  the  love  of  God,  and  the  seeking  of  everlasting  life  is  the 
matter  of  my  practice  and  my  interest,  so  must  it  be  of  my  medi- 
tation. That  is  the  best  doctrine  and  study  which  maketh  im-n 
better,  and  tendeth  to  make  them  happy.  I  abhor  the  folly  of 
those  unlearned  persons,  who  revile  or  despise  learning  because 
they  know  not  what  it  is  :  and  I  take  not  any  piece  of  true  learn- 
ing to  be  useless ;  and  yet  my  soul  approveth  of  the  resolution  of 
holy  Paul,  who  determined  to  know  nothing  among  his  hearers, 
(that  is,  comparatively  to  value  and  make  ostentation  of  no  other 
wisdom)  but  (the  knowledge  of)  a  crucified  Christ :  to  know  God 
in  Christ  is  life  eternal.  As  the  stock  of  the  tree  affordetli  tini- 
h( T  to  build  houses  and  cities,  when  the  small  though  higher 
multifarious  branches  are  but  to  make  a  crow's  nest,  or  a  M 
so  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  heaven  and  holi- 
.  doth  build  up  the  soul  to  endless  blessedness,  and  afford*  tli 
it  solid  peace  and  comfort;  when  a  multitude  of  school  nie< 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  499 

serve  but  for  vain  j anglings  and  hurtful  diversions  and  conten- 
tions :  and  yet  I  would  not  dissuade  my  reader  from  the  perusal 
of  Aquinas,  Scotus,  Ockam,  Arminiensis,  Durandus,  or  any  such 
writer ;  for  much  good  may  be  gotten  from  them  :  but  I  would 
persuade  him  to  study  and  live  upon  the  essential  doctrines  of 
Christianity  and  godliness,  incomparably  above  them  all.  And 
that  he  may  know  that  my  testimony  is  somewhat  regardable,  I 
presume  to  say,  that  in  this  I  as  much  gainsay  my  natural  inclina- 
tion to  subtilty  and  accurateness  in  knowing,  as  he  is  like  to  do 
by  his,  if  he  obey  my  counsel.  And  I  think  if  he  lived  among 
infidels  and  enemies  of  Christ,  he  would  find  that  to  make  good 
the  doctrine  of  faith,  and  of  life  eternal,  were  not  only  his  noblest 
and  most  useful  study :  but  also  that  which  would  require  the 
height  of  all  his  parts,  and  the  utmost  of  his  diligence,  to  manage 
it  skilfully  to  the  satisfaction  of  himself  and  others. 

I  add  therefore  that  this  is  another  thing  which  I  am  changed 
in ;  that  whereas  in  my  younger  days  I  never  was  tempted  to 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  Scripture  or  Christianity,  but  all  my  doubts 
and  fears  were  exercised  at  home,  about  my  own  sincerity  and 
interest  in  Christ,  and  this  was  it  which  I  called  unbelief;  since 
then  my  sorest  assaults  have  been  on  the  other  side,  and  such  they 
were,  that  had  I  been  void  of  internal  experience,  and  the  adhe- 
sion of  love,  and  the  special  help  of  God,  and  had  not  discerned 
more  reason  for  my  religion  than  I  did  when  I  was  younger,  I 
had  certainly  apostatized  to  infidelity  (though  for  atheism  or 
ungodliness,  my  reason  seeth  no  stronger  arguments,  than  may  be 
brought  to  prove  that  there  is  no  earth,  or  air,  or  sun).  I  am 
now  therefore  much  more  apprehensive  than  heretofore,  of  the 
necessity  of  well-grounding  men  in  their  religion,  and  especially  of 
the  witness  of  the  indwelling  Spirit :  for  I  more  sensibly  perceive 
that  the  Spirit  is  the  great  witness  of  Christ  and  Christianity  to 
the  world.  And  though  the  folly  of  fanatics  tempted  me  long  to 
over-look  the  strength  of  this  testimony  of  the  Spirit,  while  they 
placed  it  in  a  certain  internal  affection,  or  enthusiastic  inspira- 
tion ;  yet  now  I  see  that  the  Holy  Ghost  in  another  manner  is 
the  witness  of  Christ  and  his  agent  in  the  world.  The  Spirit  in 
the  prophets  was  his  first  witness ;  and  the  Spirit  by  miracles 
was  the  second  ;  and  the  Spirit  by  renovation,  sanctification,  illu- 
mination and  consolation,  assimilating  the  soul  to  Christ  and 
heaven,  is  the  continued  witness  to  all  true  believers :  and  if  any 
man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  the  same  is  none  of  his,  (Rom. 


500  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

8.  9.)  Even  as  the  rational  soul  in  the  child  is  the  inherent  wit- 
ness or  evidence,  that  he  is  the  child  of  rational  parents.  And 
therefore  ungodly  persons  have  a  great  disadvantage  in  their 
resisting  temptations  to  unbelief,  and  it  is  no  wonder  if  Christ  be 
a  stumbling  block  to  the  Jews,  and  to  the  Gentiles  foolishness. 
There  is  many  a  one  that  hideth  his  temptations  to  infidelity, 
because  he  thinketh  it  a  shame  to  open  them,  and  because  it  may 
generate  doubts  in  others;  but  I  doubt  the  imperfections  of 
most  men^s  care  of  their  salvation,  and  of  their  diligence  and 
resolution  in  a  holy  life,  doth  come  from  the  imperfection  of  their 
belief  of  Christianity  and  the  life  to  come.  For  my  part  I  must 
profess,  that  when  my  belief  of  things  eternal  and  of  the  Scripture 
is  most  clear  and  firm,  all  goeth  accordingly  in  my  soul,  and  all 
temptations  to  sinful  compliances,  worldliness,  or  flesh-pleasing, 
do  signify  worse  to  me,  than  an  invitation  to  the  stocks  or  Bed- 
lam. And  no  petition  seemeth  more  necessary  to  me  than,  Lord, 
increase  our  faith:  I  believe,  kelp  thou  my  unbelief. 

Among  truths  certain  in  themselves,  all  are  not  equally  certain 
unto  me ;  and  even  of  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  I  must  needs 
say  with  Mr.  Richard  Hooker,  Eccl.  Polity ',  that  whatever  men 
may  pretend,  the  subjective  certainty  cannot  go  beyond  the 
objective  evidence :  for  it  is  caused  thereby  as  the  print  on  the 
wax  is  caused  by  that  on  the  seal.  Therefore  I  do  more  of  late 
than  ever  discern  a  necessity  of  a  methodical  procedure  in  main- 
taining the  doctrine  of  Christianity,  and  of  beginning  at  natural 
verities,  as  presupposed  fundamentally  to  supernatural  (though 
God  may  when  he  please  reveal  all  at  once,  and  even  natural 
truths  by  supernatural  revelation)  :  and  it  is  a  marvellous  great 
help  to  my  faith,  to  find  it  built  on  so  sure  a  foundation,  and  so 
consonant  to  the  law  of  nature.  I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  pre- 
tend my  certainty  to  be  greater  than  it  is,  merely  because  it  is  a 
dishonour  to  be  less  certain ;  nor  will  I  by  shame  be  kept  from 
confessing  those  infirmities,  which  those  have  as  much  as  I,  who 
hypocritically  reproach  me  with  them.  My  certainty  that  I  am 
a  man,  is  before  my  certainty  that  there  is  a  God,  for  quod  / 
notum  est  magis  notum:  my  certainty  that  there  is  a  <;<>.!.  i- 
irn -liter  than  my  certainty  that  he  requireth  love  and  holiness  of 
his  creature  :  my  certainty  of  this  is  greater  than  my  certainty  of 

1  Eccl.  Polity. ~\  Not  there  :  but  in  his  Sermon  on  Habak.  i.  4,  and  his 
Answers  to  Traverses  Supplication,  §  9  and  10.  Compare  vol.  iii.  p.  504,  5, 
of  this  collection. 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  501 

the  life  of  reward  and  punishment  hereafter :  my  certainty  of 
that,  is  greater  than  my  certainty  of  the  endless  duration  of  it, 
and  of  the  immortality  of  individuate  souls :  my  certainty  of  the 
Deity  is  greater  than  my  certainty  of  the  Christian  faith :  my 
certainty  of  the  Christian  faith  in  its  essentials,  is  greater  than 
my  certainty  of  the  perfection  and  infallibility  of  all  the  holy 
Scriptures ;  my  certainty  of  that  is  greater  than  my  certainty  of 
the  meaning  of  many  particular  texts,  and  so  of  the  truth  of  many 
particular  doctrines,  or  of  the  canonicalness  of  some  certain  books. 
So  that  as  you  see  by  what  gradations  my  understanding  doth 
proceed,  so  also  my  certainty  differeth  as  the  evidences  differ. 
And  they  that  have  attained  to  greater  perfection,  and  a  higher 
degree  of  certainty  than  I,  should  pity  me  and  produce  their 
evidence  to  help  me.  And  they  that  will  begin  all  their  certainty 
with  that  of  the  truth  of  the  Scripture,  as  the  principium  cogno- 
scendL  may  meet  me  at  the  same  end  ;  but  they  must  give  me 
leave  to  undertake  to  prove  to  a  heathen  or  infidel,  the  being  of  a 
God ;  and  the  necessity  of  holiness,  and  the  certainty  of  a  reward 
or  punishment,  even  while  he  yet  denieth  the  truth  of  Scripture, 
and  in  order  to  his  believing  it  to  be  true. 

In  my  younger  years  my  trouble  for  sin  was  most  about  my 
actual  failings  in  thought,  word  or  action,  (except  hardness  of 
heart,  of  which  more  anon).  But  now  I  am  much  more  troubled 
for  inward  defects,  and  omission  or  want  of  the  vital  duties  or 
graces  in  the  soul.  My  daily  trouble  is  so  much  for  my  ignorance 
of  God,  and  weakness  of  belief,  and  want  of  greater  love  to  God 
and  strangeness  to  him,  and  to  the  life  to  come,  and  for  want  of 
a  greater  willingness  to  die,  and  longing  to  be  with  God  in  heaven, 
as  that  I  take  not  some  immoralities,  though  very  great,  to  be  in 
themselves  so  great  and  odious  sins,  if  they  could  be  found  as 
separate  from  these.  Had  I  all  the  riches  of  the  world,  how 
gladly  should  I  give  them,  for  a  fuller  knowledge,  belief,  and  love 
of  God  and  everlasting  glory  !  these  wants  are  the  greatest  bur- 
den of  my  life,  which  oft  maketh  my  life  itself  a  burden.  And  I 
cannot  find  any  hope  of  reaching  so  high  in  these,  while  I  am  in 
the  flesh,  as  I  once  hoped  before  this  time  to  have  attained : 
which  maketh  me  the  wearier  of  this  sinful  world,  which  is 
honoured  with  so  little  of  the  knowledge  of  God. 

Heretofore  I  placed  much  of  my  religion  in  tenderness  of  heart, 
and  grieving  for  sin,  and  penitential  tears ;  and  less  of  it,  in  the 
love  of  God,  and  studying  his  love  and  goodness,  and  in  his  joyful 


502  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

praises,  than  now  I  do.  Then  I  was  little  sensible  of  the  great- 
ness and  excellency  of  love  and  praise ;  though  I  coldly  spake  the 
same  words  in  its  commendations  as  now  I  do  :  and  now  I  am  less 
troubled  for  want  of  grief  and  tears  (though  I  more  value  humi- 
lity, and  refuse  not  needful  humiliation) :  but  my  conscience  now 
looketh  at  love  and  delight  in  God,  and  praising  him,  as  the  top 
of  all  my  religious  duties,  for  which  it  is  that  I  value  and  use  the 
rest. 

My  judgment  is  much  more  for  frequent  and  serious  medita- 
tion on  the  heavenly  blessedness,  than  it  was  heretofore  in  my 
younger  days.  I  then  thought  that  a  sermon  of  the  attributes  of 
God,  and  the  joys  of  heaven  were  not  the  most  excellent;  and 
was  wont  to  say,  "  Every  body  knoweth  this,  that  God  is  great 
and  good,  and  that  heaven  is  a  blessed  place  ;  I  had  rather  hear 
how  I  may  attain  it."  And  nothing  pleased  me  so  well  as  the 
doctrine  of  regeneration,  and  the  marks  of  sincerity ;  which  was 
because  it  was  suitable  to  me  in  that  state :  but  now  I  had  rather 
read,  hear,  or  meditate,  on  God  and  heaven,  than  on  any  other 
subject :  for  I  perceive  that  is  the  object  that  altereth  and  elevat- 
eth  the  mind ;  which  will  be  such  as  that  is,  which  it  most  fre- 
quently feedeth  on  :  and  that  it  is  not  only  useful  to  our  comfort, 
to  be  much  in  heaven 2  in  our  believing  thoughts :  but  that  it 
must  animate  all  our  other  duties,  and  fortify  us  against  every 
temptation  and  sin  ;  and  that  the  love  of  the  end  is  it  that  is  the 
poise  or  spring,  which  setteth  every  wheel  a  going,  and  must  put 
us  on  to  all  the  means  :  and  that  a  man  is  no  more  a  Christian 
indeed  than  he  is  heavenly. 

I  was  once  wont  to  meditate  most  on  my  own  heart,  and  to 
dwell  all  at  home,  and  look  little  higher :  I  was  still  poring  either 
on  my  sins  or  wants,  or  examining  my  sincerity ;  but  now,  though 
I  am  greatly  convinced  of  the  need  of  heart-acquaintance  and 
employment,  yet  I  see  more  need  of  a  higher  work ;  and  tli.at  I 
should  look  oftener  upon  Christ,  and  God,  and  heaven,  than  upon 
my  own  heart.  At  home  I  can  find  distempers  to  trouble  me, 
and  some  evidences  of  my  peace :  but  it  is  above  that  I  inu-t 
find  matter  of  delight  and  joy,  and  love  and  peace  itself.  There- 
fore I  would  have  one  thought  at  home  upon  myself  and  sins,  ;m<l 
many  thoughts  above  upon  the  high  and  amiable  and  l)iatit\  in- 
objects. 

Much  in  heaven.]  See  vol.  iii.  p.  531.     Hooker's  Death-bed  Meditation*. 


RICHARD   BAXTER.  503 

Heretofore  I  knew  much  less  than  now ;  and  yet  was  not  half 
so  much  acquainted  with  my  ignorance.  I  had  a  great  delight  in 
the  daily  new  discoveries  which  I  made,  and  of  the  light  which 
shined  in  upon  me  (like  a  man  that  cometh  into  a  country  where 
he  never  was  before ;)  but  I  little  knew  either  how  imperfectly  I 
understood  those  very  points,  whose  discovery  so  much  delighted 
me,  nor  how  much  might  be  said  against  them ;  nor  how  many 
things  I  was  yet  a  stranger  to  :  but  now  I  find  far  greater  dark- 
ness upon  all  things,  and  perceive  how  very  little  it  is  that  we 
know  in  comparison  of  that  which  we  are  ignorant  of,  and  have 
far  meaner  thoughts  of  my  own  understanding,  though  I  must 
needs  know  that  it  is  better  furnished  than  it  was  then. 

Accordingly  I  had  then  a  far  higher  opinion  of  learned  persons 
and  books,  than  I  have  now ;  for  what  I  wanted  myself  I  thought 
every  reverend  divine  had  attained,  and  was  familiarly  acquainted 
with :  and  what  books  I  understood  not  by  reason  of  the  strange- 
ness of  the  terms  or  matter,  I  the  more  admired,  and  thought 
that  others  understood  their  worth.  But  now  experience  hath 
constrained  me  against  my  will  to  know,  that  reverend  learned 
men  are  imperfect,  and  know  but  little  as  well  as  I  ;  especially 
those  that  think  themselves  the  wisest:  and  the  better  I  am 
acquainted  with  them,  the  more  I  perceive  that  we  are  all  yet  in 
the  dark  :  and  the  more  I  am  acquainted  with  holy  men,  that 
are  all  for  heaven,  and  pretend  not  much  to  subtilties,  the  more 
I  value  and  honour  them.  And  when  I  have  studied  hard  to 
understand  some  abstruse  admired  book,  (as  De  Scientia  Dei,  De 
Providentia  circa  malum,  de  Decretis,  de  Prcedeterminatione,  de 
Libertate  Creatures,  &c.)  I  have  but  attained  the  knowledge  of 
human  imperfection,  and  to  see  that  the  author  is  but  a  man  as 
well  as  I. 

And  at  first  I  took  more  upon  my  author's  credit,  than  now  I 
can  do  :  and  when  an  author  was  highly  commended  to  me  by 
others,  or  pleased  me  in  some  part,  I  was  ready  to  entertain  the 
whole  ;  whereas  now  I  take  and  leave  in  the  same  author,  and 
dissent  in  some  things  from  him  that  I  like  best,  as  well  as  from 
others. 

At  first  I  was  greatly  inclined  to  go  with  the  highest  in  con- 
troversies, on  one  side  or  other  ;  as  with  Dr.  Twisse,  and  Mr. 
Rutherford,  and  Spanhemius  de  Providentia  et  gratia,  &c.  But 
now  I  can  so  easily  see  what  to  say  against  both  extremes  that  I 
am  much  more  inclinable  to  reconciling  principles.  And  whereas 


504  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

then  I  thought  that  conciliators  were  but  ignorant  men,  that 
were  willing  to  please  all,  and  would  pretend  to  reconcile  the  world 
by  principles  which  they  did  not  understand  themselves  ;  I  have 
since  perceived,  that  if  the  amiableness  of  peace  and  concord  had 
no  hand  in  the  business,  yet  greater  light  and  stronger  judgment 
usually  is  with  the  reconcilers,  than  with  either  of  the  contending 
parties  (as  with  Davenant,  Hall,  Usher,  Lud.  Crocius,  Bergius, 
Strangius,  Camero,  &c.)  But  on  both  accounts  their  writings 
are  most  acceptable  (though  I  know  that  moderation  may  be  a 
pretext  of  errors). 

At  first  the  stile  of  authors  took  as  much  with  me  as  the  argu- 
ment, and  made  the  arguments  seem  more  forcible ;  but  now  I 
judge  not  of  truth  at  all  by  any  such  ornaments  or  accidents,  but 
by  its  naked  evidence. 

I  now  see  more  good  and  more  evil  in  all  men  than  heretofore 
I  did.  I  see  that  good  men  are  not  so  good,  as  I  once  thought 
they  were,  but  have  more  imperfections:  and  that  nearer  ap- 
proach and  fuller  trial  doth  make  the  best  appear  more  weak  and 
faulty,  than  their  admirers  at  a  distance  think.  And  I  find  that 
few  are  so  bad,  as  either  malicious  enemies,  or  censorious  sepa- 
rating professors  do  imagine.  In  some  indeed  I  find  that  human 
nature  is  corrupted  into  a  greater  likeness  to  devils,  than  I  once 
thought  any  on  earth  had  been.  But  even  in  the  wicked  usually 
there  is  more  for  grace  to  make  advantage  of,  and  more  to  testify 
for  God  and  holiness,  than  I  once  believed  there  had  been. 

I  less  admire  gifts  of  utterance  and  bare  profession  of  religion 
than  I  once  did ;  and  have  much  more  charity  for  many,  who  by 
the  want  of  gifts,  do  make  an  obscurer  profession  than  they.  I 
once  thought  that  almost  all  that  could  pray  movingly  and 
fluently,  and  talk  well  of  religion,  had  been  saints.  But  expe- 
rience hath  opened  to  me,  what  odious  crimes  may  consist  with 
high  profession  ;  and  I  have  met  with  divers  obscure  persons,  not 
noted  for  any  extraordinary  profession,  or  forwardness  in  religion, 
but  only  to  live  a  quiet  blameless  life,  whom  I  have  after  found 
to  have  long  lived,  as  far  as  I  could  discern,  a  truly  godly  and 
sanctified  life :  only  their  prayers  and  duties  were  by  accident 
kept  secret  from  other  men's  observation.  Yet  he  that  upon  this 
pretence  would  confound  the  godly  and  the  ungodly,  may  as  \\v\\ 
go  about  to  lay  heaven  and  hell  together. 

I  am  not  so  narrow  in  my  special  love  as  heretofore :  boin.Lr 
less  censorious,  and  taking  more  than  I  did  for  saints,  it  must 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  505 

needs  follow  that  I  love  more  as  saints  than  I  did  before.  I 
think  it  not  lawful  to  put  that  man  off  with  bare  church  commu- 
nion, and  such  common  love  which  I  must  allow  the  wicked,  who 
professeth  himself  a  true  Christian,  by  such  a  profession  as  I 
cannot  disprove. 

I  am  not  too  narrow  in  my  principles  of  church  communion,  as 
once  I  was.  I  more  plainly  perceive  the  difference  between  the 
church  as  congregate  or  visible,  and  as  regenerate  or  mystical ; 
and  between  sincerity  and  profession ;  and  that  a  credible  pro- 
fession is  proof  sufficient  of  a  man's  title  to  church  admission  : 
and  that  the  profession  is  credible  in  foro  ecclesice,  which  is  not 
disproved.  I  am  not  for  narrowing  the  church  more  than  Christ 
himself  alloweth  us ;  nor  for  robbing  him  of  any  of  his  flock.  I 
am  more  sensible  how  much  it  is  the  will  of  Christ  that  every 
man  be  the  chooser  or  refuser  of  his  own  felicity,  and  that  it  lieth 
most  on  his  own  hands,  whether  he  will  have  communion  with  the 
church  or  not ;  and  that  if  he  be  an  hypocrite  it  is  himself  that 
will  bear  the  loss. 

Yet  am  I  more  apprehensive  than  ever  of  the  great  use  and 
need  of  ecclesiastical  discipline,  and  what  a  sin  it  is  in  the  pastors 
of  the  church  to  make  no  distinction,  but  by  bare  names  and 
sacraments,  and  to  force  all  the  utmeet  against  their  own  wills, 
to  church  communion  and  sacraments  (though  the  ignorant  and 
erroneous  may  sometime  be  forced  to  hear  instruction)  :  and  what 
a  great  dishonour  to  Christ  it  is,  when  the  church  shall  be  as 
vicious  as  Pagan  and  Mahometan  assemblies,  and  shall  differ 
from  them  only  in  ceremony  and  name. 

I  am  much  more  sensible  of  the  evil  of  schism,  and  of  the 
separating  humour,  and  of  gathering  parties,  and  making  several 
sects  in  the  church,  than  I  was  heretofore.  For  the  effects  have 
shewed  us  more  of  the  mischiefs. 

I  am  much  more  sensible  how  prone  many  young  professors 
are  to  spiritual  pride  and  self-conceitedness,  and  unruliness  and 
division,  and  so  to  prove  the  grief  of  their  teachers,  and  fire- 
brands in  the  church  ;  and  how  much  of  a  ministers  work  lieth 
in  preventing  this,  and  humbling  and  confirming  such  young 
unexperienced  professors,  and  keeping  them  in  order  in  their 
progress  in  religion. 

Yet  am  I  more  sensible  of  the  sin  and  mischief  of  using  men 
cruelly  in  matters  of  religion,  and  of  pretending  men's  good,  and 
the  order  of  the  church,  for  acts  of  inhumanity  or  uncharitable- 


506  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

ness.  Such  know  not  their  own  infirmity,  nor  yet  the  nature  of 
pastoral  government,  which  ought  to  be  paternal  and  by  love ; 
nor  do  they  know  the  way  to  win  a  soul,  nor  to  maintain  the 
churches  peace. 

My  soul  is  much  more  afflicted  with  the  thoughts  of  the  miser- 
able world,  and  more  drawn  out  in  desire  of  their  conversion 
than  heretofore.  I  was  wont  to  look  but  little  farther  than 
England  in  my  prayers,  as  not  considering  the  state  of  the  rest 
of  the  world  :  or  if  I  prayed  for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews,  that 
was  almost  all.  But  now  as  I  better  understand  the  case  of  the 
world,  and  the  method  of  the  Lord^s  prayer,  so  there  is  nothing 
in  the  world  that  lieth  so  heavy  upon  my  heart,  as  the  thought 
of  the  miserable  nations  of  the  earth.  It  is  the  most  astonishing 
part  of  all  God's  providence  to  me  that  he  so  far  forsaketh  al- 
most all  the  world,  and  confineth  his  special  favour  to  so  few : 
that  so  small  a  part  of  the  world  hath  the  profession  of  Christian- 
ity, in  comparison  of  heathens,  Mahometans,  and  other  infields  ! 
And  that  among  professed  Christians  there  are  so  few  that  are 
saved  from  gross  delusions,  and  have  but  any  competent  know- 
ledge :  and  that  among  those  there  are  so  few  that  are  seriously 
religious,  and  truly  set  their  hearts  on  heaven.  I  cannot  be 
affected  so  much  with  the  calamities  of  my  own  relations,  or  the 
land  of  my  nativity,  as  with  the  case  of  the  heathen,  Mahometan, 
and  ignorant  nations  of  the  earth.  No  part  of  my  prayers  are 
so  deeply  serious,  as  that  for  the  conversion  of  the  infidel  and 
ungodly  world,  that  God's  name  may  be  sanctified,  and  his  king- 
dom come,  and  his  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven :  nor 
was  I  ever  before  so  sensible  what  a  plague  the  division  of  lan- 
guages was  which  hindereth  our  speaking  to  them  for  their  con- 
version ;  nor  what  a  great  sin  tyranny  is,  which  keepeth  out  the 
gospel  from  most  of  the  nations  of  the  world.  Could  we  but  go 
among  Tartarians,  Turks,  and  heathens,  and  speak  their  lan- 
guage, I  should  be  but  little  troubled  for  the  silencing  of  eiu!i 
hundred  ministers  at  once  in  England,  nor  for  all  the  rest  that 
were  cast  out  here,  and  in  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  there  being  no 
employment  in  the  world  so  desirable  in  my  eyes,  as  to  labour  for 
the  winning  of  such  miserable  souls;  which  maketh  me  greatly 
honour  Mr.  John  Eliot*,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians  in  > 
England,  and  whoever  else  have  laboured  in  such  work. 

a  John  Eliot.]   Of  whose  labours  there  remains  a  singular  testim. 
viz.  a  version  of  the  Bible  into  one  of  the  North  American  Indian  cli; 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  507 

Yet  am  I  not  so  much  inclined  to  pass  a  peremptory  sentence 
of  damnation  upon  all  that  never  heard  of  Christ ;  having  some 
more  reason  than  I  knew  of  before  to  think  that  God's  dealing 
with  such  is  much  unknown  to  us  !  And  that  the  ungodly  here 
among  us  Christians  are  in  a  far  worse  case  than  they. 

My  censures  of  the  papists  do  much  differ  from  what  they  were 
at  first.  I  then  thought  that  their  errors  in  the  doctrines  of 
faith  were  their  most  dangerous  mistakes,  as  in  the  points  of 
merit,  justification  by  works,  assurance  of  salvation,  the  nature 
of  faith,  &c.  But  now  I  am  assured  that  their  mis-expressions, 
and  mis-understanding  us,  with  our  mistakings  of  them,  and 
inconvenient  expressing  our  own  opinions,  hath  made  the  differ- 
ences in  these  points  to  appear  much  greater  than  they  are  ;  and 
that  in  some  of  them  it  is  next  to  none  at  all.  But  the  great 
and  unreconcilable  differences  lie  in  their  church  tyranny  and 
usurpations,  and  in  their  great  corruptions  and  abasement  of 
God's  worship,  together  with  their  befriending  of  ignorance  and 
vice.  At  first  I  thought  that  Mr.  Perkins  well  proved  that  a 
Papist  cannot  go  beyond  a  reprobate  4 ;  but  now  I  doubt  not  but 
that  God  hath  many  sanctified  ones  among  them,  who  have 
received  the  true  doctrine  of  Christianity  so  practically,  that 
their  contradictory  errors  prevail  not  against  them,  to  hinder 
their  love  of  God,  and  their  salvation  :  but  that  their  errors  are 
like  a  conquerable  dose  of  poison  which  nature  doth  overcome. 
And  I  can  never  believe  that  a  man  may  not  be  saved  by  that 
religion,  which  doth  but  bring  him  to  the  true  love  of  God,  anil 
to  a  heavenly  mind  and  life  :  nor  that  God  will  ever  cast  a  soul 
into  hell  that  truly  loveth  him.  Also  at  first  it  would  disgrace 
any  doctrine  with  me,  if  I  did  but  hear  it  called  popery  and  anti- 
christian :  but  I  have  long  learned  to  be  more  impartial,  and  to 
dislike  men  for  bad  doctrine,  rather  than  the  doctrines  for  the 
men ;  and  to  know  that  Satan  can  use  even  the  names  of  popery 
and  antichrist,  against  a  truth. 

I  am  deeplier  afflicted  for  the  disagreements  of  Christians  than 
I  was  when  I  was  a  younger  Christian.  Except  the  case  of  the 
infidel  world,  nothing  is  so  sad  and  grievous  to  my  thoughts,  as 
the  case  of  the  divided  churches.  And  therefore  I  am  more 
deeply  sensible  of  the  sinfulness  of  those  prelates  and  pastors  of 

now  extinct.    Two  editions  of  it  were  printed  at  Cambridge  (New  England) 
in  1663  and  1680. 

4  A  reprobate.']  Compare  above,  vol.  iii.  p.  508,  &c.     Life  of  Hooker. 


508  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

the  churches,  who  are  the  principal  cause  of  these  divisions.  O 
how  many  millions  of  souls  are  kept  by  them  in  ignorance,  and 
ungodliness,  and  deluded  by  faction,  as  if  it  were  true  religion  ! 
How  is  the  conversion  of  infidels  hindered  by  them  !  and  Christ 
and  religion  heinously  dishonoured  !  The  contentions  between  the 
Greek  church  and  the  Roman,  the  Papists  and  the  Protestants, 
the  Lutherans  and  the  Calvinists,  have  wofully  hindered  the 
kingdom  of  Christ. 

I  have  spent  much  of  my  studies  about  the  terms  of  Christian 
concord 5,  and  have  over  and  over  considered  of  the  several  ways, 
which  several  sorts  of  reconcilers  have  devised.  I  have  thought 
of  the  Papists1  way,  who  think  there  will  be  no  union,  but  by 
coming  over  wholly  to  their  church ;  and  I  have  found  that  it  is 
neither  possible  nor  desirable.  I  have  thought  and  thought  again 
of  the  way  of  the  moderating  Papists,  Cassander,  Grotius,  Bald- 
win, &c.  and  of  those  that  would  have  all  reduced  to  the  state  of 
the  times  of  Gregory  the  first,  before  the  division  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  churches,  that  the  pope  might  have  his  primacy,  and 
govern  all  the  church  by  the  canons  of  the  councils,  with  a  salvo 
to  the  rights  of  kings  and  patriarchs  and  prelates  ;  and  that  the 
doctrines  and  worship  which  then  were  received  might  prevail. 
And  for  my  own  part,  if  I  lived  in  such  a  state  of  the  church, 
I  would  live  peaceably,  as  glad  of  unity,  though  lamenting  the 
corruption  and  tyranny :  but  I  am  fully  assured  that  none  of 
these  are  the  true  desirable  terms  of  unity,  nor  such  as  are  < 
like  to  procure  an  universal  concord  :  and  I  am  as  sure  that  the 
true  means  and  terms  of  concord  are  obvious  and  easy  to  an 
impartial  willing  mind.  And  that  these  three  things  alone  would 
easily  heal  and  unite  all  the  churches. 

1.  That  all  Christian  princes  and  governors  take  all  the  co- 
ercive power  about  religion  into  their  own  hands,  (though  if  pre- 
lates and  their  courts  must  be  used  as  their  officers  in  exercising 
that  coercive  power,  so  be  it :)  and  that  they  make  a  difference 
between  the  approved  and  the  tolerated  churches  ;  and  that  they 
keep  the  peace  between  these  churches,  and  settle  their  several 
privileges  by  a  law. 

2.  That  the  churches  be  accounted  tolerable,  who  profess  all 
that  is  in  the  creed,  Lord's  prayer,  and  decalogue  in  particular. 
and  generally  all  that  they  shall  find  to  be  revealed  in  the  \\<>nl 

5  Christian  concord.]    See   The  true  and  only  tony  of  Concord  of  all  the 
Christian  churches;  opened  by  Richard  Baxter.  1680.  8vo. 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  509 

of  God,  and  hold  communion  in  teaching,  prayer,  praises,  and 
the  two  sacraments,  not  obstinately  preaching  any  heresy  con- 
trary to  the  particular  articles  which  they  profess,  nor  seditiously 
disturbing  the  public  peace :  and  that  such  heretical  preaching, 
and  such  seditious  unpeaceableness,  or  notorious  wickedness  of 
life,  do  forfeit  their  toleration. 

3.  And  that  those  that  are  further  orthodox  in  those  particu- 
lars, which  rulers  think  fit  to  impose  upon  their  subjects,  have 
their  public  maintenance  and  greater  encouragement.  Yea,  and 
this  much  is  become  necessary,  but  upon  supposition  that  men 
will  still  be  so  self-conceited  and  uncharitable,  as  not  to  forbear 
their  unnecessary  impositions.  Otherwise  there  would  be  found 
but  very  few  who  are  tolerable,  that  are  not  also  in  their  measure 
to  be  approved,  maintained,  and  encouraged.  And  if  the  primi- 
tive simplicity  in  doctrine,  government,  and  worship,  might  serve 
turn,  for  the  terms  of  the  church's  union  and  communion,  all 
would  be  well  without  any  more  ado  ;  supposing  that  where 
Christian  magistrates  are,  they  keep  the  peace,  and  repress  the 
offenders,  and  exercise  all  the  coercive  government.  And  here- 
tics who  will  subscribe  to  the  Christian  faith,  must  not  be  pu- 
nished because  they  will  subscribe  to  no  more,  but  because  they 
are  proved  to  preach  or  promote  heresy,  contrary  to  the  faith 
which  they  profess. 

I  am  farther  than  ever  I  was  from  expecting  great  matters  of 
unity,  splendour,  or  prosperity  to  the  church  on  earth,  or  that 
saints  should  dream  of  a  kingdom  of  this  world,  or  flatter  them- 
selves with  the  hopes  of  a  golden  age,  or  reigning  over  the  un- 
godly (till  there  be  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth 
righteousness).  And  on  the  contrary  I  am  more  apprehensive 
that  sufferings  must  be  the  church's  most  ordinary  lot,  and 
Christians  indeed  must  be  self-denying  cross-bearers,  even  where 
there  are  none  but  formal  nominal  Christians  to  be  the  cross- 
makers  :  and  though  ordinarily  God  would  have  vicissitudes  of 
summer  and  winter,  day  and  night,  that  the  church  may  grow 
extensively  in  the  summer  of  prosperity,  and  intensively  and 
radicately  in  the  winter  of  adversity :  yet  usually  their  night  is 
longer  than  their  day,  and  that  day  itself  hath  its  storms  and 
tempests.  For  the  prognostics  are  evident  in  their  causes. 
1 .  The  church  will  be  still  imperfect  and  sinful,  and  will  have 
those  diseases  which  need  this  bitter  remedy.  2.  Rich  men  will 
be  the  rulers  of  the  world :  and  rich  men  will  be  generally  so  far 


510  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

from  true  godliness,  that  they  must  come  to  heaven  as  by  human 
impossibilities,  as  a  camel  through  a  needle's  eye.  3.  The  un- 
godly will  ever  have  an  enmity  against  the  image  of  God,  and  he 
that  is  born  of  the  flesh  will  persecute  him  that  was  born  after 
the  spirit,  and  brotherhood  will  not  keep  a  Cain  from  killing  an 
Abel,  who  offereth  a  more  acceptable  sacrifice  than  himself :  and 
the  guilty  will  still  hate  the  light,  and  make  a  prey  to  their  pride 
and  malice  of  a  conscionable  reprover.  4.  The  pastors  will  be 
still  troubling  the  church  with  their  pride  and  avarice  and  con- 
tentions ;  and  the  worst  will  be  seeking  to  be  the  greatest,  and 
they  that  seek  it  are  likeliest  to  attain  it.  5.  He  that  is  highest 
will  be  still  imposing  his  conceits  upon  those  under  him,  and 
lording  it  over  God's  heritage,  and  with  Diotrephes  casting  out 
the  brethren,  and  ruling  them  by  constraint,  and  not  as  volun- 
teers. 6.  Those  that  are  truly  judicious  will  still  comparatively 
be  few  ;  and  consequently  the  troublers  and  dividers  will  be  the 
multitude ;  and  a  judicious  peace-maker  and  reconciler  will  be 
neglected,  slighted,  or  hated  by  both  extremes.  7.  The  tenor  of 
the  gospel  predictions,  precepts,  promises,  and  threatenings,  are 
fitted  to  a  people  in  a  suffering  state.  8.  And  the  graces  of  (iod 
in  a  believer  are  mostly  suited  to  a  state  of  suffering.  9.  Chris- 
tians must  imitate  Christ,  and  suffer  with  him  before  they  rei^-n 
with  him :  and  his  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world.  10.  The 
observation  of  God's  dealing  hitherto  with  the  church  in  every 
age  confirmeth  me :  and  his  befooling  them  that  have  dreamed 
of  glorious  times.  It  was  such  dreams  that  transported  the 
Munster  Anabaptists  and  the  followers  of  David  George  in  the 
low  countries,  and  Campanella,  and  the  Ittuminati  among  the 
Papists,  and  our  English  Anabaptists  and  other  fanatics  1. 
both  in  the  army  and  the  city  and  country.  When  they  think 
the  golden  age  is  come,  they  shew  their  dreams  in  their  extrava- 
gant actions ;  and  as  our  fifth  monarchy  men,  they  are  presently 
upon  some  unquiet  rebellious  attempt,  to  set  up  Christ  in  his 
kingdom  whether  he  will  or  not.  I  remember  how  Abraham 
Scultetus  in  curricula  Vitce  suce  confesseth  the  common  vanity  of 
himself  and  other  protestants  in  Germany,  who  seeing  the  princes 
in  England,  France,  Bohemia  and  many  other  countries,  to  be 
all  at  once  both  great  and  wise,  and  friends  to  reformation,  did 
presently  expect  the  golden  age :  but  within  one  year  either  dent  h. 
or  ruins  of  war,  or  back-slidings,  had  exposed  all  their  expecta- 
tions to  scorn,  and  laid  them  lower  than  before. 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  511 

I  do  not  lay  so  great  a  stress  upon  the  external  modes  and 
forms  of  worship,  as  many  young  professors  do.  I  have  sus- 
pected myself,  as  perhaps  the  reader  may  do,  that  this  is  from  a 
cooling  and  declining  from  my  former  zeal  (though  the  truth  is 
I  never  much  complied  with  men  of  that  mind)  :  but  I  find  that 
judgment  and  charity  are  the  causes  of  it,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to 
discover.  I  cannot  be  so  narrow  in  my  principles  of  church-com- 
munion as  many  are,  that  are  so  much  for  liturgy,  or  so  much 
against  it,  so  much  for  ceremonies  or  so  much  against  them,  that 
they  can  hold  communion  with  no  church  that  is  not  of  their 
mind  and  way.  If  I  were  among  the  Greeks,  the  Lutherans,  the 
Independents,  yea,  the  Anabaptists  (that  own  no  heresy,  nor  set 
themselves  against  charity  and  peace)  I  would  hold  sometimes 
occasional  communion  with  them  as  Christians  (if  they  will  give 
me  leave,  without  forcing  me  to  any  sinful  subscription  or  ac- 
tion) :  though  my  most  usual  communion  should  be  with  that 
society,  which  I  thought  most  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God,  if  I 
were  free  to  choose.  I  cannot  be  of  their  opinion  that  think  God 
will  not  accept  him  that  prayeth  by  the  common  prayer  book, 
and  that  such  forms  are  a  self-invented  worship  which  God 
rejecteth  :  nor  yet  can  I  be  of  their  mind  that  say  the  like  of 
extemporary  prayers. 

I  am  much  less  regardful  of  the  approbation  of  man,  and  set 
much  lighter  by  contempt  or  applause,  than  I  did  long  ago.  I 
am  oft  suspicious  that  this  is  not  only  from  the  increase  of  self- 
denial  and  humility ;  but  partly  from  my  being  glutted  and  sur- 
feited with  human  applause  :  and  all  worldly  things  appear  most 
vain  and  unsatisfactory  when  we  have  tried  them  most.  But 
though  I  feel  that  this  hath  some  hand  in  the  effect,  yet  as  far  as 
I  can  perceive,  the  knowledge  of  man's  nothingness,  and  God's 
transcendent  greatness,  with  whom  it  is  that  I  have  most  to  do, 
and  the  sense  of  the  brevity  of  human  things,  and  the  nearness  of 
eternity,  are  the  principal  causes  of  this  effect ;  which  some  have 
imputed  to  self-conceitedness  and  morosity. 

I  am  more  and  more  pleased  with  a  solitary  life ;  and  though 
in  a  way  of  self-denial  I  could  submit  to  the  most  public  life,  for 
the  service  of  God,  when  he  required  it,  and  would  not  be  un- 
profitable that  I  might  be  private ;  yet  I  must  confess,  it  is  much 
more  pleasing  to  myself,  to  be  retired  from  the  world,  and  to  have 
very  little  to  do  with  men,  and  to  converse  with  God  and  con- 
science and  good  books ;  of  which  I  have  spoken  my  heart  in  my 
Divine  Life,  part  iii. 


512  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

Though  I  was  never  much  tempted  to  the  sin  of  covetousness, 
yet  my  fear  of  dying  was  wont  to  tell  me,  that  I  was  not  suffi- 
ciently loosened  from  this  world.  But  I  find  that  it  is  compara- 
tively very  easy  to  me  to  be  loose  from  this  world,  but  hard  to  live 
by  faith  above.  To  despise  earth  is  easy  to  me ;  but  not  so  easy 
to  be  acquainted  and  conversant  in  heaven.  I  have  nothing  in 
this  world  which  I  could  not  easily  let  go ;  but  to  get  satisfying 
apprehensions  of  the  other  world  is  the  great  and  grievous  diffi- 
culty. 

I  am  much  more  apprehensive  than  long  ago,  of  the  odiousness 
and  danger  of  the  sin  of  pride ;  scarce  any  sin  appeareth  more 
odious  to  me.  Having  daily  more  acquaintance  with  the  lament- 
able naughtiness  and  frailty  of  man  and  of  the  mischiefs  of  that 
sin,  and  especially  in  matters  spiritual  and  ecclesiastical,  I  think 
so  far  as  any  man  is  proud  he  is  kin  to  the  devil,  and  utterly  a 
stranger  to  God  and  to  himself.  It  is  a  wonder  that  it  should  be 
a  possible  sin,  to  men  that  still  carry  about  with  them,  in  soul 
and  body,  such  humbling  matter  of  remedy  as  we  all  do. 

I  more  than  ever  lament  the  unhappiness  of  the  nobility,  gentry 
and  great  ones  of  the  world,  who  live  in  such  temptation  to  sen- 
suality, curiosity  and  wasting  of  their  time  about  a  multitude  of 
little  things ;  and  whose  lives  are  too  often  the  transcript  of  the 
sins  of  Sodom  ;  pride,  fulness  of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness, 
and  want  of  compassion  to  the  poor.  And  I  more  value  the  life 
of  the  poor  labouring  man ;  but  especially  of  him  that  hath  noither 
poverty  nor  riches. 

I  am  much  more  sensible  than  heretofore,  of  the  breadth,  and 
length,  and  depth  of  the  radical,  universal,  odious  sin  of  selfish- 
ness, and  therefore  have  written  so  much  against  it :  and  of  the 
excellency  and  necessity  of  self-denial,  and  of  a  public  mind,  and 
of  loving  our  neighbour  as  ourselves. 

I  am  more  and  more  sensible  that  most  controversies  have  more 
need  of  right  stating  than  of  debating ;  and  if  my  skill  be  inert 
in  any  thing  it  is  in  that,  in  narrowing  controversies  by  explication, 
and  separating  the  real  from  the  verbal,  and  proving  to  many  con- 
tenders, that  they  differ  less  than  they  think  they  do. 

I  am  more  solicitous  than  I  have  been  about  my  duty  to  God, 
and  less  solicitous  about  his  dealings  with  me ;  as  being  assured 
that  he  will  do  all  things  well ;  and  his  acknowledging  the  goodness 
of  all  the  declarations  of  his  holiness,  even  in  the  puni.slniK>nt  of 
man  ;  and  as  knowing  that  there  is  no  rest  but  in  the  will  and 
goodness  of  God. 


RICHARD   BAXTER.  513 

Though  my  works  were  never  such  as  could  be  any  tempta- 
tion to  me  to  dream  of  obliging  God  by  proper  merit,  in  com- 
mutative justice ;  yet  one  of  the  most  ready,  constant,  undoubted 
evidences  of  my  uprightness  and  interest  in  his  covenant,  is 
the  consciousness  of  my  living  as  devoted  to  him :  and  I  the 
easilier  believe  the  pardon  of  my  failings  through  my  Redeemer, 
while  I  know  that  I  serve  no  other  master,  and  that  I  know 
no  other  end,  or  trade,  or  business  ;  but  that  I  am  employed 
in  his  work,  and  make  it  the  business  of  my  life,  and  live  to 
him  in  the  world,  notwithstanding  my  infirmities.  And  this  bent 
and  business  of  my  life,  with  my  longing  desires  after  perfec- 
tion in  the  knowledge  and  belief  and  love  of  God,  and  in  a  holy 
and  heavenly  mind  and  life,  are  the  two  standing,  constant, 
discernible  evidences,  which  most  put  me  out  of  doubt  of  my  sin- 
cerity. And  I  find  that  constant  action  and  duty  is  it  that 
keepeth  the  first  always  in  the  sight ;  and  constant  wants  and 
weaknesses,  and  coming  short  of  my  desires,  do  make  those 
desires  still  the  more  troublesome,  and  so  the  more  easily  still 
perceived. 

Though  my  habitual  judgment  and  resolution  and  scope  of  life 
be  still  the  same,  yet  I  find  a  great  mutability  as  to  actual  appre- 
hensions, and  degrees  of  grace ;  and  consequently  find  that  so 
mutable  a  thing  as  the  mind  of  man,  would  never  keep  itself  if 
God  were  not  its  keeper.  When  I  have  been  seriously  musing 
upon  the  reasons  of  Christianity,  with  the  concurrent  evidences 
methodically  placed  in  their  just  advantages  before  my  eyes,  I  am 
so  clear  in  my  belief  of  the  Christian  verities,  that  Satan  hath 
little  room  for  a  temptation.  But  sometimes  when  he  hath  on  a 
sudden  set  some  temptation  before  me,  when  the  foresaid  evidences 
have  been  out  of  the  way,  or  less  upon  my  thoughts,  he  hath  by 
such  surprises  amazed  me,  and  weakened  my  faith  in  the  present 
act.  So  also  as  to  the  love  of  God,  and  trusting  in  him,  some- 
times when  the  motives  are  clearly  apprehended,  the  duty  is  more 
easy  and  delightful :  and  at  other  times,  I  am  merely  passive  and 
dull,  if  not  guilty  of  actual  despondency  and  distrust. 

I  am  much  more  cautelous  in  my  belief  of  history  than  hereto- 
fore :  not  that  I  run  into  their  extreme  that  will  believe  nothing 
because  they  cannot  believe  all  things.  But  I  am  abundantly 
satisfied  by  the  experience  of  this  age,  that  there  is  no  believing 
two  sorts  of  men,  ungodly  men  and  partial  men :  though  an 
honest  heathen  of  no  religion  may  be  believed,  where  enmity 

VOL.  iv.  L  1 


514  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

against  religion  biasseth  him  not,  yet  a  debauched  Christian,  be- 
sides his  enmity  to  the  power  and  practice  of  his  own  religion,  is 
seldom  without  some  farther  bias  of  interest  or  faction ;  espe- 
cially when  these  concur,  and  a  man  is  both  ungodly  and  ambitious, 
espousing  an  interest  contrary  to  a  holy  heavenly  life,  and  also 
factious,  embodying  himself  with  a  sect  or  party  suited  to  his 
spirit  and  designs,  there  is  no  believing  his  word  or  oath.  If  you 
read  any  man  partially  bitter  against  others  as  differing  from  him 
in  opinion,  or  as  cross  to  his  greatness,  interest  or  designs,  take 
heed  how  you  believe  any  more,  than  the  historical  evidence  dis- 
tinct from  his  word  compelleth  you  to  believe.  The  prodigious 
lies  which  have  been  published  in  this  age  in  matters  of  fact,  with 
unblushing  confidence,  even  where  thousands  or  multitudes  of  eye 
and  ear- witnesses  knew  all  to  be  false,  doth  call  men  to  take  heed 
what  history  they  believe,  especially  where  power  and  violence 
affordeth  that  privilege  to  the  reporter,  that  no  man  dare  answer 
him  or  detect  his  fraud,  or  if  they  do  their4writings  are  all  sup- 
prest.  As  long  as  men  have  liberty  to  examine  and  contradict 
one  another,  one  may  partly  conjecture  by  comparing  their  words 
on  which  side  the  truth  is  like  to  lie.  But  when  great  men  write 
history,  or  flatterers  by  their  appointment,  which  no  man  dare  con- 
tradict, believe  it  but  as  you  are  constrained.  Yet  in  these  cases 
I  can  freely  believe  history :  1 .  If  the  person  shew  that  he  is 
acquainted  with  what  he  saith.  2.  And  if  he  shew  you  the 
evidences  of  honesty  and  conscience,  and  the  fear  of  God  (which 
may  be  much  perceived  in  the  spirit  of  a  writing).  3.  And  if  he 
appear  to  be  impartial  and  charitable,  and  a  lover  of  goodness  and 
of  mankind ;  and  not  possessed  with  malignity,  or  personal  ill  will 
and  malice,  nor  carried  away  by  faction  or  personal  interest. 
Conscionable  men  dare  not  lie ;  but  faction  and  interest  abate 
men's  tenderness  of  conscience.  And  a  charitable  and  impartial 
heathen  may  speak  truth  in  a  love  to  truth,  and  hatred  of  a  lie ; 
but  ambitious  malice  and  false  religion  will  not  stick  to  serve 
themselves  on  any  thing.  It  is  easy  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  vera- 
city in  the  intelligence,  impartiality,  and  ingenuity  of  a  Thuanus. 
a  Guicciardini,  a  Paulus  Venetus  *,  though  papists  ;  and  of  So- 
crates and  Sozomen,  though  accused  by  the  factious  of  favouring 
the  Novatians;  and  many  Protestants,  in  a  Melancthon,  a  Bu- 
choltzer,  and  many  more ;  and  among  physicians  in  such  as  O 
Platerus,  &c.  But  it  is  as  easy  to  see  the  footsteps  of  partiality 
"  Paulus  Venetus.]  Paolo  Sarpi  of  Venice. 


RICHARD   BAXTER.  515 

and  faction  and  design,  in  a  Genebrard,  a  Baronius,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  their  companions ;  and  to  see  reason  of  suspicion  in  many 
more.  Therefore  I  confess  1  give  but  halting  credit  to  most 
histories  that  are  written,  not  only  against  the  Albigenses  and 
Waldenses,  but  against  most  of  the  ancient  heretics,  who  have 
left  us  none  of  their  own  writings,  in  which  they  speak  for  them- 
selves ;  and  I  heartily  lament  that  the  historical  writings  of  the 
ancient  schismatics,  and  heretics  (as  they  were  called)  perished, 
and  that  partiality  suffered  them  not  to  survive,  that  we  might 
have  had  more  light  in  the  church  affairs  of  those  times,  and  been 
better  able  to  judge  between  the  fathers  and  them.  And  as  I  am 
prone  to  think  that  few  of  them  were  so  bad  as  their  adversaries 
made  them,  so  I  am  apt  to  think  that  such  as  the  Novatians,  and 
Luciferians,  and  Indians,  &c.  whom  their  adversaries  commend, 
were  very  good  men,  and  more  godly  than  most  catholics,  however 
mistaken  in  some  one  point.  Sure  1  am,  that  as  the  lies  of  the 
papists,  of  Luther,  Zwinglius,  Calvin,  and  Beza,  are  visibly  mali- 
cious and  impudent,  by  the  common  plenary  contradicting  evidence, 
and  yet  the  multitude  of  their  seduced  ones  believe  them  all  in 
despight  of  truth  and  charity ;  so  in  this  age  there  have  been 
such  things  written  against  parties  and  persons  whom  the  writers 
design  to  make  odious,  so  notoriously  false  as  you  would  think 
that  the  sense  of  their  honour  at  least  should  have  made  it  impos- 
sible for  such  men  to  write.  My  own  eyes  have  read  such  words 
and  actions  asserted  with  most  vehement  iterated  unblushing 
confidence,  which  abundance  of  ear- witnesses,  even  of  their  own 
parties  must  needs  know  to  have  been  altogether  false :  and  there- 
fore having  myself  now  written  this  history  of  myself,  notwith- 
standing my  protestation  that  I  have  not  in  any  thing  wilfully 
gone  against  the  truth,  I  expect  no  more  credit  from  the  reader, 
than  the  self-evidencing  light  of  the  matter,  with  concurrent 
rational  advantages  from  persons,  and  things,  and  other  witnesses, 
shall  constrain  him  to ;  if  he  be  a  person  that  is  unacquainted 
with  the  author  himself,  and  the  other  evidences  of  his  veracity  and 
credibility.  And  I  have  purposely  omitted  almost  all  the  descrip- 
tions of  any  persons  that  ever  opposed  me,  or  that  ever  I  or  my 
brethren  suffered  by,  because  T  know  that  the  appearance  of  interest 
and  partiality  might  give  a  fair  excuse  to  the  reader's  incredulity 
(although  indeed  the  true  description  of  persons  is  much  of  the 
very  life  of  history,  and  especially  of  the  history  of  the  age  which 
I  have  lived  in ;  yet  to  avoid  the  suspicion  of  partiality  I  have 

L  1  2 


516  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

left  it  out)  :  except  only  when  I  speak  of  the  Cromwellians  and 
sectaries,  where  I  am  the  more  free,  because  none  suspecteth  my 
interest  to  have  engaged  me  against  them ;  but  (with  the  rest  of 
iny  brethren)  I  have  opposed  them  in  the  obedience  of  my  con- 
science, when  by  pleasing  them  I  could  have  had  almost  any  thing 
that  they  could  have  given  me,  and  when  before-hand  I  expected 
that  the  present  governors  should  silence  me,  and  deprive  me  of 
maintenance,  house  and  home,  as  they  have  done  by  me  and  many 
hundreds  more.  Therefore  I  supposed  that  my  descriptions  and 
censures  of  those  persons  which  would  have  enriched  and  honoured 
me,  and  of  their  actions  against  that  party  which  hath  silenced, 
impoverished  and  accused  me,  and  which  before  hand  I  expected 
should  do  so,  are  beyond  the  suspicion  of  envy,  self-interest  or 
partiality:  if  not,  I  there  also  am  content  that  the  reader  exercise 
his  liberty,  and  believe  no  worse  even  of  these  men,  than  the 
evidence  of  fact  constraineth  him. 

Thus  much  of  the  alterations  of  my  soul,  since  my  younger 
years,  I  thought  best  to  give  the  reader,  instead  of  all  those 
experiences  and  actual  motions  and  affections,  which  I  suppose 
him  rather  to  have  expected  an  account  of.  And  having 
transcribed  thus  much  of  a  life  which  God  hath  read,  and  con- 
science hath  read,  and  must  further  read,  I  humbly  lament  it, 
and  beg  pardon  of  it,  as  sinful  and  too  unequal  and  unprofitable  : 
and  I  warn  the  reader  to  amend  that  in  his  own,  which  he 
findeth  to  have  been  amiss  in  mine ;  confessing  also  that  much 
hath  been  amiss  which  I  have  not  here  particularly  mentioned, 
and  that  I  have  not  lived  according  to  the  abundant  mercies  of 
the  Lord.  But  what  I  have  recorded,  hath  been  especially  to  per- 
form my  vows,  and  declare  his  praise  to  all  generations,  who  hath 
filled  up  my  days  with  his  unvaluable  favours,  and  bound  me  to 
bless  his  name  for  ever:  and  also  to  prevent  the  defective  per- 
formance of  this  task,  by  some  overvaluing  brethren,  who  I  know 
intended  it,  and  were  unfitter  to  do  it  than  myself:  and  for  such 
reasons  as  Junius,  Scultetus,  Thuanus,  and  many  others  have 
done  the  like  before  me.  The  principal  of  which  are  these  three : 
1.  As  travellers  and  seamen  use  to  do  after  great  adventures  and 
deliverances,  I  hereby  satisfy  my  conscience,  in  praising  the 
blessed  author  of  all  those  undeserved  mercies  which  have  filled 
up  my  life.  2.  Foreseeing  by  the  attempts  of  bishop  Morley,  what 
prelatists  and  papists  are  like  to  say  of  me,  when  they  have  none 
to  contradict  them,  and  how  possible  it  is  that  those  that  in 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  517 

knew  me  may  believe  them,  though  they  have  lost  their  hopes 
with  all  the  rest,  I  take  it  to  be  my  duty  to  be  so  faithful  to 
that  stock  of  reputation  which  God  hath  intrusted  me  with, 
as  to  defend  it  at  the  rate  of  opening  the  truth.  Such  as  have 
made  the  world  believe  that  Luther  consulted  with  the  devil,  that 
Calvin  was  a  stigmatized  Sodomite,  that  Beza  turned  Papist,  &c. 
to  blast  their  labours,  I  know  are  very  like  to  say  any  thing  by 
me,  which  their  interest  or  malice  tell  them  will  any  way  advan- 
tage their  cause,  to  make  my  writings  unprofitable  when  I  am 
dead.  3.  That  young  Christians  may  be  warned  by  the  mistakes 
and  failings  of  my  unriper  times,  to  learn  in  patience,  and  live  in 
watchfulness,  and  not  be  fierce  and  proudly  confident  in  their 
first  conceptions ;  and  to  reverence  ripe  experienced  age,  and 
to  take  heed  of  taking  such  for  their  chief  guides  as  have  nothing 
but  immature  and  unexperienced  judgments,  with  fervent  affec- 
tions, and  free  and  confident  expressions  ;  but  to  learn  of  them 
that  have  with  holiness,  study,  time  and  trial,  looked  about  them 
as  well  on  one  side  as  the  other,  and  attained  to  clearness  and 
impartiality  in  their  judgments. 

But  having  mentioned  the  changes  which  I  think  were  for  the 
better,  I  must  add,  that  as  I  confessed  many  of  my  sins  before, 
so  since  I  have  been  guilty  of  many,  which  because  materially  they 
seemed  small,  have  had  the  less  resistance,  and  yet  on  the 
review  do  trouble  more  than  if  they  had  been  greater,  done  in 
ignorance.  It  can  be  no  small  thing  formally  which  is  committed 
against  knowledge  and  conscience  and  deliberation,  whatever 
excuse  it  have.  To  have  sinned  while  I  preached  and  wrote 
against  sin,  and  had  such  abundant  and  great  obligations  from 
God,  and  made  so  many  promises  against  it,  doth  lay  me  very 
low :  not  so  much  in  fear  of  hell,  as  in  great  displeasure  against 
myself,  and  such  self-abhorrence  as  would  cause  revenge  upon 
myself,  were  it  not  forbidden.  When  God  forgiveth  me  I  cannot 
forgive  myself;  especially  for  any  rash  words  or  deeds,  by  which 
I  have  seemed  injurious,  and  less  tender  and  kind,  than  1  should 
have  been  to  my  near  and  dear  relations,  whose  love  abundantly 
obliged  me.  When  such  are  dead,  though  we  never  differed  in 
points  of  interest,  on  any  great  matter,  every  sour  or  cross  pro- 
voking word  which  I  gave  them,  maketh  me  almost  unrecon- 
cileable  to  myself;  and  tells  me  how  repentance  brought  some  of 
old,  to  pray  to  the  dead  whom  they  had  wronged,  in  the  hurry 
of  their  passion,  to  forgive  them. 


518  RICHARD  BAXTER. 

And  though  I  before  told  the  change  of  my  judgment  against 
provoking  writings,  I  have  had  more  will  than  skill  since  to 
avoid  such.  I  must  mention  it  by  way  of  penitent  confession, 
that  I  am  too  much  inclined  to  such  words  in  controversial 
writings,  which  are  too  keen,  and  apt  to  provoke  the  person 
whom  I  write  against.  Sometimes  I  suspect  that  age  soureth 
my  spirits,  and  sometimes  I  am  apt  to  think  that  it  is  long 
thinking  and  speaking  of  such  things  that  maketh  me  weary, 
and  less  patient  with  others  that  understand  them  not ;  and 
sometimes  I  am  ready  to  think  that  it  is  out  of  a  hatred  of  the 
flattering  humour  which  now  prevaileth  so  in  the  world,  that 
few  persons  are  able  to  hear  the  truth :  and  I  am  sure  that  I 
can  not  only  hear  myself  such  language  as  I  use  to  others,  but 
that  I  expect  it.  I  think  all  these  are  partly  causes ;  but  I  am 
sure  the  principal  cause  is  a  long  custom  of  studying  how  to  speak 
and  write  in  the  keenest  manner  to  the  common,  ignorant,  and 
ungodly  people,  without  which  keenness  to  them,  no  sermon,  nor 
book  does  much  good ;  which  hath  so  habituated  me  to  it,  that 
I  am  still  falling  into  the  same  with  others;  forgetting  that 
many  ministers,  and  professors  of  strictness  do  desire  the  greatest 
roughness  to  the  vulgar,  and  to  their  adversaries,  and  the  greatest 
lenity,  and  smoothness,  and  comfort,  if  not  honour,  to  themselves. 
And  I  have  a  strong  natural  inclination  to  speak  of  every  subject 
just  as  it  is,  and  to  call  a  spade,  a  spade,  and  verba  rebus  aptare, 
so  as  that  the  thing  spoken  of  may  be  fulliest  known  by  the 
words,  which  methinks  is  part  of  our  speaking  truly.  But  I 
unfeignedly  confess  that  it  is  faulty,  because  imprudent :  (for 
that  is  not  a  good  means  which  doth  harm,  because  it  is  not 
fitted  to  the  end ;)  and  because  whilst  the  readers  think  me 
angry,  though  I  feel  no  passion  at  such  times  in  myself,  it  is 
scandalous,  and  a  hindrance  to  the  usefulness  of  what  I  write : 
and  especially  because,  though  I  feel  no  anger,  yet,  which  is 
worse,  I  know  that  there  is  some  want  of  honour  and  love  or 
tenderness  to  others,  or  else  I  should  not  be  apt  to  use  such 
words  as  open  their  weakness  and  offend  them  :  and  therefore  I 
repent  of  it,  and  wish  all  over  sharp  passages  were  expunged  from 
my  writings,  and  desire  forgiveness  of  God  and  man.  And  yet  I 
must  say  that  I  am  oft  afraid  of  the  contrary  extreme,  lest  win -n 
I  -peak  against  great  and  dangerous  errors  and  sins,  though  of 
persons  otherwise  honest,  I  should  encourage  mm  to  them,  by 
speaking  too  easily  of  them,  as  Eli  did  to  his  sons,  and  lest  I 


RICHARD  BAXTER.  519 

should  so  favour  the  person,  as  may  befriend  the  sin,  and  wrong 
the  church.  And  I  must  say  as  the  New  England  synodists  in 
their  defence  against  Mr.  Davenport,  page  2,  pref.  "  We  heartily 
desire  that  as  much  as  may  be,  all  expressions  and  reflexions 
may  be  foreborn,  that  tend  to  break  the  bond  of  love.  Indeed 
such  is  our  infirmity,  that  the  naked  discovery  of  the  fallacy  or 
invalidity  of  another^  allegations  or  arguings  is  apt  to  provoke. 
This  in  disputes  is  unavoidable." 

And  therefore  I  am  less  for  a  disputing  way  than  ever ; 
believing  that  it  tempteth  men  to  bend  their  wits,  to  defend 
their  errors,  and  oppose  the  truth,  and  hindereth  usually  their 
information.  And  ike  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but  le 
gentle  to  all  men,  &c.  therefore  I  am  most  in  judgment  for  a  learning 
or  a  teaching  way  of  converse.  In  all  companies  I  will  be  glad, 
either  to  hear  those  speak  that  can  teach  me,  or  to  be  heard  of 
those  that  have  need  to  learn. 

And  that  which  I  named  before  on  the  bye,  is  grown  one  of 
my  great  diseases ;  I  have  lost  much  of  that  zeal  which  I  had, 
to  propagate  any  truths  to  others,  save  the  mere  fundamentals. 
When  I  perceive  people  or  ministers,  which  is  too  common,  to 
think  they  know  what  indeed  they  do  not,  and  to  dispute  those 
things  which  they  never  thoroughly  studied,  or  expect  I  should 
debate  the  case  with  them,  as  if  an  hour's  talk  would  serve 
instead  of  an  acute  understanding,  and  seven  years1  study,  I 
have  no  zeal  to  make  them  of  my  opinion,  but  an  impatience  of 
continuing  discourse  with  them  on  such  subjects,  and  am  apt  to 
be  silent,  or  turn  to  something  else :  which,  (though  there  be 
some  reason  for  it)  I  feel  cometh  from  a  want  of  zeal  for  the 
truth,  and  from  an  impatient  temper  of  mind.  I  am  ready  to 
think  that  people  should  quickly  understand  all  in  a  few  words, 
and  if  they  cannot,  lazily  to  despair  of  them,  and  leave  them  to 
themselves.  And  I  the  more  know  that  it  is  sinful  in  me,  because 
it  is  partly  so  in  other  things  ;  even  about  the  faults  of  my 
servants  or  other  inferiors,  if  three  or  four  times'*  warning  do 
no  good  on  them,  I  am  much  tempted  to  despair  of  them,  and 
turn  them  away,  and  leave  them  to  themselves. 

I  mention  all  these  distempers,  that  my  faults  may  be  a  warn- 
ing to  others  to  take  heed,  as  they  call  on  myself  for  repentance 
and  watchfulness. — O  Lord,  for  the  merits  and  sacrifice  and 
intercession  of  Christ,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,  and  forgive  my 
known  and  unknown  sins  ! 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 


So  natural  is  the  union  of  religion  with  justice,  that  we  may  boldly  deem 
there  is  neither,  where  both  are  not.  For  how  should  they  be  unfeignedly 
just,  whom  religion  doth  not  cause  to  be  such,  or  they  religious,  which  are 
not  found  such  by  the  proof  of  their  just  actions  ?  If  they,  which  employ 
their  labour  and  travail  about  the  public  administration  of  justice,  follow  it 
only  as  a  trade,  with  unquenchable  and  unscionable  thirst  of  gain,  being 
not  in  heart  persuaded  that  justice  is  God's  own  work,  and  themselves  his 
agents  in  this  business ;  the  sentence  of  right  God's  own  verdict,  and  them- 
selves his  priests  to  deliver  it, — formalities  of  justice  do  but  serve  to  smother 
right,  and  that,  which  was  necessarily  ordained  for  the  common  good,  is 
through  shameful  abuse  made  the  cause  of  common  misery. 

HOOKER. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  following  Account  is  reprinted  intire,  from  The  Life  and 
Death  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  Knt.  sometime  Lord  Chief  Justice  of 
His  Majesties  Court  of  King's  Bench ;  written  ly  Gilbert  Burnett, 
D.D.  London,  1682.  I  have  purposely  forborne  to  insert  at 
large  the  additional  Notes  to  the  Life  and  Death,  &c.  by  Richard 
Baxter,  in  a  Letter  to  Mr.  Edward  Stephens;  as  being,  I  think, 
but  of  small  value ;  and  have  contented  myself  with  two  or  three 
extracts,  in  the  way  of  notes. 


PREFACE. 


No  part  of  history  is  more  instructive  and  delighting,  than  the 
lives  of  great  and  worthy  men.  The  shortness  of  them  invites 
many  readers ;  and  there  are  such  little,  and  yet  remarkable  pas- 
sages in  them,  too  inconsiderable  to  be  put  in  a  general  history 
of  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  that  all  people  are  very  desirous 
to  know  them.  This  makes  Plutarch1  s  Lives  be  more  generally 
read,  than  any  of  all  the  books  which  the  ancient  Greeks  or 
Romans  writ. 

But  the  lives  of  heroes  and  princes  are  commonly  filled  with 
the  account  of  the  great  things  done  by  them,  which  do  rather 
belong  to  a  general,  than  a  particular  history ;  and  do  rather 
amuse  the  readers  fancy  with  a  splendid  shew  of  greatness,  than 
offer  him  what  is  really  so  useful  to  himself.  And  indeed  the 
lives  of  princes  are  either  writ  with  so  much  flattery,  by  those 
who  intended  to  merit  by  it  at  their  own  hands,  or  others  con- 
cerned in  them :  or  with  so  much  spite,  by  those  who  being  ill 
used  by  them,  have  revenged  themselves  on  their  memory,  that 
there  is  not  much  to  be  built  on  them :  and  though  the  ill  nature 
of  many  makes  what  is  satirically  writ  to  be  generally  more  read 
and  believed,  than  when  the  flattery  is  visible  and  coarse ;  yet 
certainly  resentment  may  make  the  writer  corrupt  the  truth  of 
history,  as  much  as  interest.  And  since  all  men  have  their  blind 
sides,  and  commit  errors,  he  that  will  industriously  lay  these  toge- 
ther, leaving  out,  or  but  slightly  touching  what  should  be  set 
against  them,  to  balance  them,  may  make  a  very  good  man  ap- 
pear in  bad  colours.  So,  upon  the  whole  matter,  there  is  not 
that  reason  to  expect  either  much  truth,  or  great  instruction, 
from  what  is  written  concerning  heroes  or  princes ;  for  few  have 
been  able  to  imitate  the  patterns  Suetonius  set  the  world,  in 
writing  the  lives  of  the  Eoman  Emperors,  with  the  same  freedom 


526  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

that  they  had  led  them. — But  the  lives  of  private  men,  though 
they  seldom  entertain  the  reader  with  such  a  variety  of  passages 
as  the  other  do ;  yet  certainly  they  offer  him  things  that  are  more 
imitable,  and  do  present  wisdom  and  virtue  to  him,  not  only  in 
a  fair  idea,  which  is  often  looked  on  as  a  piece  of  the  invention  or 
fancy  of  the  writer,  but  in  such  plain  and  familiar  instances,  as  do 
both  direct  him  better,  and  persuade  him  more ;  and  there  are 
not  such  temptations  to  bias  those  who  write  them,  so  that  we 
may  generally  depend  more  on  the  truth  of  such  relations  as  are 
given  in  them. 

In  the  age  in  which  we  live,  religion  and  virtue  have  been  pro- 
posed and  defended  with  such  advantages,  with  that  great  force  of 
reason,  and  those  persuasions,  that  they  can  hardly  be  matched 
in  former  times :  yet  after  all  this,  there  are  but  few  much 
wrought  on  by  them ;  which  perhaps  flows  from  this,  among 
other  reasons,  that  there  are  not  so  many  excellent  patterns  set 
out,  as  might  both  in  a  shorter,  and  more  effectual  manner  recom- 
mend that  to  the  world,  which  discourses  do  but  coldly ;  the  wit 
and  stile  of  the  writer  being  more  considered  than  the  argument 
which  they  handle ;  and  therefore  the  proposing  virtue  and  reli- 
gion in  such  a  model,  may  perhaps  operate  more  than  the  per- 
spective of  it  can  do.  And  for  the  history  of  learning,  nothing 
does  so  preserve  and  improve  it,  as  the  writing  the  lives  of  those 
who  have  been  eminent  in  it. 

There  is  no  book  the  ancients  have  left  us,  which  might  have 
informed  us  more  than  Diogenes  Laertius"  Lives  of  the  Philoso- 
phers, if  he  had  had  the  art  of  writing  equal  to  that  great  subject 
which  he  undertook  ;  for  if  he  had  given  the  world  such  an  ac- 
count of  them,  as  Gassendus  has  done  of  Peiresk,  how  great  a 
stock  of  knowledge  might  we  have  had,  which,  by  his  unskilful- 
ness,  is  in  a  great  measure  lost ;  since  we  must  now  depend  only 
on  him,  because  we  have  no  other,  or  better  author,  that  has 
written  on  that  argument ! 

For  many  ages  there  were  no  lives  writ  but  by  monks ;  through 
whose  writings  there  runs  such  an  incurable  humour  of  telling 
incredible  and  inimitable  passages,  that  little  in  them  can  be  be- 
lieved or  proposed  as  a  pattern.     Sulpitius  Severus  and  Jerome 
shewed  too  much  credulity  in  the  lives  they  writ,  and  raised  M.-u- 
tin  and  Hilarion  beyond  what  can  be  reasonably  believed  :   . 
them,  Socrates,  Theodoret,  Sozomen,  and  Palladius,  took  a  \ 
sure  to  tell  uncouth  stories  of  the  monks  of  Thebais  and  Nitria ; 


PREFACE.  527 

and  those  who  came  after  them1,  scorned  to  fall  short  of  them,  but 
raised  their  saints  above  those  of  former  ages ;  so  that  one  would 
have  thought  that  indecent  way  of  writing  could  rise  no  higher : 
and  this  humour  infected  even  those  who  had  otherwise  a  good 
sense  of  things,  and  a  just  apprehension  of  mankind,  as  may  ap- 
pear in  Matthew  Paris ;  who,  though  he  was  a  writer  of  great 
judgment  and  fidelity,  yet  he  has  corrupted  his  history  with  much 
of  that  alloy.  But  when  emulation  and  envy  rose  among  the 
several  orders,  or  houses,  then  they  improved  in  that  art  of 
making  romances,  instead  of  writing  lives,  to  that  pitch,  that  the 
world  became  generally  much  scandalized  with  them.  The  Fran- 
ciscans and  Dominicans  tried  who  could  say  the  most  extravagant 
things  of  the  founders,  or  other  saints  of  their  orders ;  and  the 
Benedictines,  who  thought  themselves  possessed  of  the  belief  of 
the  world,  as  well  as  of  its  wealth,  endeavoured  all  that  was  pos- 
sible still  to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  their  order,  by  outlying  the 
others  all  they  could ;  and  whereas  here  or  there,  a  miracle,  a 
vision,  or  trance,  might  have  occurred  in  the  lives  of  former  saints, 
now  every  page  was  full  of  those  wonderful  things. 

Nor  has  the  humour  of  writing  in  such  a  manner,  been  quite 
laid  down  in  this  age,  though  more  awakened,  and  better  en- 
lightened ;  as  appears  in  the  life  of  Philip  Nerius 2,  and  a  great 
many  more :  and  the  Jesuits  at  Antwerp,  are  now  taking  care  to 
load  the  world  with  a  vast  and  voluminous  collection  of  all  those 
lives  that  has  already  swelled  into  eleven  volumes  in  folio,  in  a 
small  print ;  and  yet  being  digested  according  to  the  calendar, 


1  After  them.']  For  the  names  and  authors  who  are  thus  mentioned  by 
Burnet,  I  need  only  to  refer  my  readers  to  Cave's  Historia  Literaria,  and  to 
similar  works.     I  may  also  here  mention  a  small  volume  which  the  student 
will  find  very  useful :  An  Introduction  to  the  Critical  Study  of  Ecclesiastical 
History,  by  F.  G.  Bowling,  M.A  ,  Rector  of  St.  Mary's,  Gloucester.     London, 
Rivingtons,  1838.     To  many  it  will  supply  the  place  of  more  bulky  and 
expensive  works. 

2  Philip  Nerius.~\  Filippo  Neri  was  an  Italian  of  a  noble  family  at  Florence, 
and  founder  of  the  congregation  of  the  Oratory,  of  which  he  was  also  the 
first  general.   He  died  in  1595,  and  after  his  death  was  canonised  in  due  form 
as  a  saint.     His  life  has  been  written  at  great  length  by  Antonio  Gallonio, 
and  is  founded  upon  the  judicial  examinations  of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  witnesses,  who  testified  to  the  holiness  of  his  life  and  the  miracles 
which  he  wrought.     Of  all  the  more  extraordinary  facts  Gallonio  gravely 
says  the  witnesses  were  living  when  he  wrote.    It  has  been  printed  separately, 
and  also  in  the  Ada  Sanctorum  for  May. 


528  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

they  have  yet  but  ended  the  month  of  April s. — The  life  of  Mon- 
sieur Renty  is  writ  in  another  manner,  where  there  are  so  many 
excellent  passages,  that  he  is  justly  to  be  reckoned  amongst  the 
greatest  patterns  that  France  has  afforded  in  this  age. 

But  while  some  have  nourished  infidelity,  and  a  scorn  of  all 

3  Month  of  April.']  Burnet  here  alludes  to  the  great  work  known  as  the 
Ada  Sanctorum,  a  work  which  was  projected  as  early  as  1603  by  Rosweyd, 
a  Belgian  Jesuit,  and  of  which  the  first  volume  was  published  in  1643 
by  Bollandus,  under  whose  name  it  is  often  cited  :  it  was  continued  by 
Henschenius,  Papebrochius,  and  others ;  volumes  appearing  at  intervals  until 
the  year  1794,  when  its  progress  was  stopped  by  the  French  revolution,  the 
last  volume  then  published  being  the  fifty-third,  which  contains  the  saints  of 
the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  and  fourteenth  of  October. 

When  Burnet  wrote,  a  small  portion  only,  as  we  perceive,  had  been  pub- 
lished, and  yet  its  vastness  seems  somewhat  to  alarm  him.  When  the 
learned  and  industrious  Cave  compiled  his  Hisloria  Literaria,  twenty 
volumes  had  appeared,  and  he  was  frightened  at  the  task  of  examining 
them :  after  mentioning  several  collected  biographies,  he  says,  "  Qui  omni- 
bus palmam  longe  prseripuerint,  Bollandiani,  qui  incredibili  labore,  nee 
mediocri  doctrinse  apparatu  20  ingentia  volumina  jam  evulgarunt,  et  tamen 
paulo  plusquam  primum  semestre  absolverunt.  Vastum  hoc  et  plane  stu- 
pendum  opus  parcius  attigi,  partim  quod  non  ubique  ad  manum  esset, 
partim  quod  uKtavbc  airtpavroc  (ut  dementis  Romani  verbo  utar)  videbatur : 
et  quis  tarn  profundo,  tarn  immenso  mari  se  temere  committeret  ?  quis  tot 
voluminibus  recensendis  incumberet,  quibus  legendis  (modo  ad  umbilicum 
perducantur)  vix  unius  hominis  vita  sufficeret  ?  nee  parum  deterrebant 
plena,  quibus  undique  scatent,  fabularum  et  nugarum  plaustra,  ut  operosa 
istius  modi  recensio  forsan  ab  emunctae  naris  viris  censeretur  stultus  labor 
ineptiarum.  Interim  negari  nequit,  plures  in  his  scriptoribus,  nee  contem- 
nendas,  sui  prsesertim  temporis  historias  occurrere,  quse  vix  aliunde  peti 
possunt ;  ut  in  ipso  Ennio  stercore  aurum  quandoque  reperire  licet,  si  quis 
taedium  istud  devoraverit."  This  is  an  extreme  opinion.  The  collection 
undoubtedly  contains  a  great  deal  of  valuable  matter,  and,  whatever  be  its 
merits  or  demerits,  its  completion  may  now  [1839]  be  looked  for.  Four 
Belgian  Jesuits,  J.  B.  Boone,  J.  Vandermoere,  Prosper  Coppens,  and  J.  Van 
Hecke,  have  undertaken  this  gigantic  task,  for  such  it  is,  their  proposals 
containing  a  list  of  some  hundreds  of  saints  who  are  registered  in  the 
Romish  kalendar  between  Oct.  15  and  Dec.  31,  and  whose  lives  are  to  be 
given. 

Since  the  above  was  written,  two  out  of  the  four  named  Jesuits  are  dead, 
and  their  places  are  supplied  by  father  Bossue  and  others  of  the  College  of 
St.  Michael,  at  Brussels.  But  the  work  has  been  commenced.  In  1845  ap- 
peared vol.  vii.  of  the  month  of  October,  in  two  parts,  the  first  containing 
the  saints  of  the  15th  of  October,  the  second  the  saints  of  the  16th.  It  i> 
in  progress,  and  some  idea  of  its  vast  extent  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact 
that  the  lives  of  more  than  two  thousand  saints  remain  to  complete  the  year, 
and  that  fifty  more  volumes  in  folio  may  be  expected  to  complete  the  work. 


PREFACE.  529 

sacred  things,  by  writing  of  those  good  men  in  such  a  strain,  as 
makes  not  only  what  is  so  related  to  be  disbelieved,  but  creates  a 
distrust  of  the  authentical  writings  of  our  most  holy  faith ;  others 
have  fallen  into  another  extreme  in  writing  lives  too  jejunely, 
swelling  them  up  with  trifling  accounts  of  the  childhood  and 
education,  and  the  domestic  or  private  affairs  of  those  persons 
of  whom  they  write,  in  which  the  world  is  little  concerned.  By 
these  they  become  so  flat,  that  few  care  to  read  them ;  for  cer- 
tainly those  transactions  are  only  fit  to  be  delivered  to  posterity, 
that  may  carry  with  them  some  useful  piece  of  knowledge  to 
aftertiines. 

I  have  now  an  argument  before  me,  which  will  afford  indeed 
only  a  short  history,  but  will  contain  in  it  as  great  a  character, 
as  perhaps  can  be  given  of  any  in  this  age ;  since  there  are  few 
instances  of  more  knowledge,  and  greater  virtues  meeting  in  one 
person.  I  am  upon  one  account  (beside  many  more)  unfit  to 
undertake  it,  because  I  was  not  at  all  known  to  him,  so  I  can  say 
nothing  from  my  own  observation :  but  upon  second  thoughts,  I 
do  not  know  whether  this  may  not  qualify  me  to  write  more 
impartially,  though  perhaps  more  defectively  ;  for  the  knowledge 
of  extraordinary  persons  does  most  commonly  bias  those,  who 
were  much  wrought  on  by  the  tenderness  of  their  friendship  for 
them,  to  raise  their  stile  a  little  too  high  when  they  write  con- 
cerning them.  I  confess  I  knew  him  as  much  as  the  looking 
often  upon  him  could  amount  to.  The  last  year  of  his  being  in 
London,  he  came  always  on  Sundays  (when  he  could  go  abroad) 
to  the  chapel  of  the  Eolls 4,  where  I  then  preached.  In  my  life  I 
never  saw  so  much  gravity  tempered  with  that  sweetness,  and  set 
off  with  so  much  vivacity  as  appeared  in  his  looks  and  behaviour, 
which  disposed  me  to  a  veneration  for  him,  which  I  never  had  for 
any,  with  whom  I  was  not  acquainted.  I  was  seeking  an  oppor- 
tunity of  being  admitted  to  his  conversation ;  but  I  understood, 
that  between  a  great  want  of  health  and  a  multiplicity  of  busi- 
ness, which  his  employment  brought  upon  him,  he  was  master  of 
so  little  of  his  time,  that  I  stood  in  doubt  whether  I  might  pre- 
sume to  rob  him  of  any  of  it ;  and  so  he  left  the  town,  before  I 
could  resolve  on  desiring  to  be  known  to  him. 

My  ignorance  of  the  law  of  England,  made  me  also  unfit  to 
write  of  a  man,  a  great  part  of  whose  character,  as  to  his  learn- 

4  The  Rolls.']  In  Chancery-lane, 
VOL.  iv.  M  m 


530  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

ing,  is  to  be  taken  from  his  skill  in  the  common  law,  and  his 
performance  in  that.  But  I  shall  leave  that  to  those  of  the  same 
robe :  since  if  I  engage  much  in  it,  I  must  needs  commit  many 
errors,  writing  of  a  subject  that  is  foreign  to  me. 

The  occasion  of  my  undertaking  this,  was  given  me  first  by 
the  earnest  desires  of  some  that  have  great  power  over  me ;  who 
having  been  much  obliged  by  him,  and  holding  his  memory  in 
high  estimation,  thought  I  might  do  it  some  right  by  writing 
his  life.  I  was  then  engaged  in  the  history  of  the  Reformation ; 
so  I  promised  that,  as  soon  as  that  was  over,  I  should  make  the 
best  use  1  could  of  such  informations  and  memorials  as  should  be 
brought  me. 

This  I  have  now  performed  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  and 
have  brought  into  method  all  the  parcels  of  his  life,  or  the 
branches  of  his  character,  which  I  could  either  gather  from  the 
informations  that  were  brought  me,  or  from  those  that  were  fami- 
liarly acquainted  with  him,  or  from  his  writings.  I  have  not 
applied  any  of  the  false  colours,  with  which  art,  or  some  forced 
eloquence  might  furnish  me,  in  writing  concerning  him  ;  but  have 
endeavoured  to  set  him  out  in  the  same  simplicity  in  which  he 
lived.  I  have  said  little  of  his  domestic  concerns,  since  though 
in  these  he  was  a  great  example,  yet  it  signifies  nothing  to  the 
world,  to  know  any  particular  exercises,  that  might  be  given  to 
his  patience ;  and  therefore  I  shall  draw  a  veil  over  all  these,  and 
shall  avoid  saying  any  thing  of  him,  but  what  may  afford  the 
reader  some  profitable  instruction.  I  am  under  no  temptations 
of  saying  any  thing,  but  what  I  am  persuaded  is  exactly  true ; 
for  where  there  is  so  much  excellent  truth  to  be  told,  it  were  an 
inexcusable  fault  to  corrupt  that,  or  prejudice  the  reader  against 
it  by  the  mixture  of  falsehoods  with  it. 

In  short ;  as  he  was  a  great  example  while  he  lived,  so  I  wish 
the  setting  him  thus  out  to  posterity,  in  his  own  true  and  native 
colours,  may  have  its  due  influence  on  all  persons ;  but  more  par- 
ticularly on  those  of  that  profession,  whom  it  more  immediately 
concerns,  whether  on  the  bench,  or  at  the  bar. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 


MATTHEW  HALE,  was  born  at  Alderly  in  Glocestershire,  the 
first  of  November,  1609.  His  grandfather  was  Robert  Hale,  an 
eminent  clothier  in  Wotton-under-edge,  in  that  county,  where  he 
and  his  ancestors  had  lived  for  many  descents ;  and  they  had 
given  several  parcels  of  land  for  the  use  of  the  poor,  which  are 
enjoyed  by  them  to  this  day.  This  Robert  acquired  an  estate  of 
ten  thousand  pounds,  which  he  divided  almost  equally  amongst 
his  five  sons ;  besides  the  portions  he  gave  his  daughters,  from 
whom  a  numerous  posterity  has  sprung.  His  second  son  was 
Robert  Hale,  a  barrister  of  Lincoln's-Inn ;  he  married  Joan,  the 
daughter  of  Matthew  Poyntz,  of  Alderly,  esq.  who  was  descended 
from  that  noble  family  of  the  Poyntzes  of  Acton.  Of  this  mar- 
riage there  was  no  other  issue  but  this  one  son.  His  grandfather 
by  his  mother  was  his  godfather,  and  gave  him  his  own  name  at 
his  baptism.  His  father  was  a  man  of  that  strictness  of  con- 
science, that  he  gave  over  the  practice  of  the  law,  because  he  could 
not  understand  the  reason  of  giving  colour  in  pleadings,  which  as 
he  thought  was  to  tell  a  lie l ;  and  that,  with  some  other  things 
commonly  practised,  seemed  to  him  contrary  to  that  exactness  of 
truth  and  justice  which  became  a  Christian,  so  that  he  withdrew 
himself  from  the  Inns  of  Court  to  live  on  his  estate  in  the  coun- 
try. Of  this  I  was  informed  by  an  ancient  gentleman,  that  lived 
in  a  friendship  with  his  son  for  fifty  years,  and  he  heard  judge 
Jones,  that  was  Mr.  Hale's  contemporary,  declare  this  in  the 
King's  Bench.  But  as  the  care  he  had  to  save  his  soul,  made 
him  abandon  a  profession  in  which  he  might  have  raised  his 
family  much  higher,  so  his  charity  to  his  poor  neighbours  made 

1  To  tell  a  lie.']  See  Life  of  sir  Thomas  More  above,  vol.  ii.  p.  56,  n. 

M  m  2 


532  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

him  not  only  deal  his  alms  largely  among  them  while  he  lived,  but 
at  his  death  he  left  (out  of  his  small  estate  which  was  100£.  a 
year)  20£.  a  year  to  the  poor  of  Wotton,  which  his  son  confirmed 
to  them  with  some  addition,  and  with  this  regulation,  that  it 
should  be  distributed  among  such  poor  house-keepers,  as  did  not 
receive  the  alms  of  the  parish ;  for  to  give  it  to  those,  was  only, 
as  he  used  to  say,  to  save  so  much  money  to  the  rich,  who  by 
law  were  bound  to  relieve  the  poor  of  the  parish. 

Thus  he  was  descended  rather  from  a  good,  than  a  noble 
family ;  and  yet  what  was  wanting  in  the  insignificant  titles  of 
high  birth,  and  noble  blood,  was  more  than  made  up  in  the  true 
worth  of  his  ancestors.  But  he  was  soon  deprived  of  the  happi- 
ness of  his  father's  care  and  instruction ;  for  as  he  lost  his  mother 
before  he  was  three  years  old,  so  his  father  died  before  he  was 
five  :  so  early  was  he  cast  on  the  providence  of  God.  But  that 
unhappiness  was  in  a  great  measure  made  up  to  him :  for  after 
some  opposition  made  by  Mr.  Thomas  Poyntz,  his  uncle  by  his 
mother,  he  was  committed  to  the  care  of  Anthony  Kingscot,  of 
Kingscot,  esq.  who  was  his  next  kinsman,  after  his  uncles,  by  his 
mother. 

Great  care  was  taken  of  his  education ;  and  his  guardian 
intended  to  breed  him  to  be  a  divine;  and  being  inclined  to 
the  way  of  those  then  called  Puritans,  put  him  to  some  schools 
that  were  taught  by  those  of  that  party,  and  in  the  17th  year  of 
his  age,  sent  him  to  Magdalen  Hall  in  Oxford,  where  Obadiah 
Sedgwick  was  his  tutor.  He  was  an  extraordinary  proficient  at 
school,  and  for  some  time  at  Oxford.  But  the  stage  players 
coming  thither,  he  was  so  much  corrupted  by  seeing  many  pla\  s. 
that  he  almost  wholly  forsook  his  studies.  By  this,  he  not  only 
lost  much  time,  but  found  that  his  head  came  to  be  thereby  filial 
with  such  vain  images  of  things 2,  that  they  were  at  best  unprofit- 
able, if  not  hurtful  to  him  ;  and  being  afterwards  sensible  of  the 

2  Vain  images  of  things.']  I  borrow  here  a  valuable  and  interesting  note 
from  bishop  Jebb. 

"  A  similar  fact  is  related  of  the  celebrated  Brindley,  the  civil  engineer. 
He  was  once  prevailed  upon  to  go  to  a  play.  Never  before  having  been  pre- 
sent at  such  an  entertainment,  it  had  a  powerful  effect ;  and  he  complained, 
that,  for  several  days,  it  so  deranged  his  ideas,  as  to  render  him  quite  unfit 
for  business.  He  determined,  therefore,  that  he  would  never,  on  any  account, 
visit  the  theatre  again.  (Bioyraphia  Britannica.) 

"  We  learn  from  the  interesting  memoir  of  Felix  Neff  (1832),  that,  even  in 
childhood,  his  chosen  recreations  were  those  long  rambles  which  he  was 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  533 

mischief  of  this,  he  resolved  upon  his  coming  to  London,  (where 
he  knew  the  opportunities  of  such  sights  would  be  more  fre- 
quent and  inviting)  never  to  see  a  play  again  ;  to  which  he  con- 
stantly adhered  3. 

allowed  to  take,  in  the  splendid  mountain  scenery  of  his  native  Switzerland. 
No  amusement  which  the  town  of  Geneva  could  afford,  was,  in  his  view, 
comparable  with  his  own  quiet,  but  invigorating  pursuits,  in  the  pure  air  of  a 
delightful  country,  by  the  side  of  the  stream,  the  torrent,  or  the  lake. 
When  twelve  years  old,  a  companion  asked  him  to  go  along  with  him,  to 
some  favourite  theatrical  exhibition  :  on  declining,  he  was  asked,  '  Do  you 
think  you  will  not  be  entertained  ?' — '  Perhaps/  was  the  reply,  sage  beyond 
his  years,  *  Perhaps,  I  should  be  entertained  too  much' 

"A  curious  diversion,  and  consequent  unsettlement,  of  mind,  with  the 
means  employed  for  its  counteraction,  are  instructively  recorded  by  Mr.  Boyle, 
in  the  sketch  of  his  own  early  life. 

"  Here  [at  Eton],  to  divert  his  melancholy  [owing  to  an  aguish  indispo- 
sition] they  made  him  read  the  adventures  of  Amadis  de  Gaule,  and  other 
fabulous  entertaining  stories;  which  much  more  prejudiced  him,  by  un- 
settling his  thoughts,  than  they  would  have  advantaged  him,  had  they 
affected  his  recovery :  for,  meeting  in  him  with  a  restless  fancy,  then  made 
more  susceptible  of  any  impressions,  by  an  unemployed  pensiveness,  they 
accustomed  his  thoughts  to  such  a  habitude  of  roving,  that  he  has  scarce 
ever  been  their  master  since. 

"  Long  time  after,  he  did,  in  a  considerable  measure,  fix  his  volatile  fancy, 
and  restrain  his  thoughts,  by  the  use  of  those  expedients  he  thought  likeliest 
to  fetter,  or,  at  least,  to  curb,  the  roving  wildness  of  his  wandering  thoughts. 
Amongst  all  which,  the  most  effectual  way  he  found  to  be,  the  extraction  of 
the  square  and  cube  roots,  and  especially  those  more  laborious  operations  of 
algebra,  which  both  accustom,  and  necessitate,  the  mind  to  attention,  by  so 
entirely  exacting  the  whole  man,  that  the  smallest  distraction,  or  heedless- 
ness,  constrains  us  to  renew  our  trouble,  and  re-begin  the  operation''  Life  of 
the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  by  Birch.  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  xvii.  edit.  1772. 

"  It  cannot  be  reasonably  doubted,  that  this  remedy  was  suggested  to  the 
philosopher,  by  the  sagacious  counsel  of  his  great  predecessor  : — 

" '  If  a  man's  wit  be  wandering,  let  him  study  the  mathematics  :  for, 
in  demonstration,  if  a  man's  wit  be  carried  away  never  so  little,  he  must 
begin  again.'"  Lord  Bacon's  Essays,  50.  p.  168.  Burnet's  Lives,  fyc. 
p.  15,  6.  n. 

3  He  constantly  adhered.]  "  He  told  me,  that  he  took  up  a  resolution 
which  he  punctually  observed  ever  since,  that  he  would  never  more  see  a 
play,  having  spent  all  his  money  on  them  at  Oxford,  and  having  experienced 
that  it  was  so  great  an  alienation  of  mind  from  his  studies,  by  the  recurring 
of  the  speeches  and  actions  into  his  thoughts,  as  well  as  the  loss  of  time 
when  he  saw  them.  He  said  that  he  had  often  disputes  (on  the  subject) 
with  Mr.  Selden,  who  was  his  great  friend,  and  used  to  say,  he  found  great 
refreshment  by  it :  but  my  lord  told  him  he  had  so  much  knowledge  of  the 
inconvenience  of  them,  that  he  would  not  see  one  for  100?.  But,  he  said,  he 


534  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

The  corruption  of  a  young  man's  mind  in  one  particular  gene- 
rally draws  on  a  great  many  more  after  it ;  so  he  being  now 
taken  off  from  following  his  studies,  and  from  the  gravity  of  his 
deportment,  that  was  formerly  eminent  in  him,  far  beyond  his 
years,  set  himself  to  many  of  the  vanities  incident  to  youth,  but 
still  preserved  his  purity,  and  a  great  probity  of  mind.  He  loved 
fine  clothes,  and  delighted  much  in  company :  and  being  of  a 
strong  robust  body,  he  was  a  great  master  at  all  those  exercises 
that  required  much  strength.  He  also  learned  to  fence,  and  han- 
dle his  weapons,  in  which  he  became  so  expert,  that  he  worsted 
many  of  the  masters  of  those  arts  :  but  as  he  was  exercising  of 
himself  in  them,  an  instance  appeared,  that  showed  a  good  judg- 
ment, and  gave  some  hopes  of  better  things.  One  of  his  masters 
told  him  he  could  teach  him  no  more,  for  he  was  now  better  at 
his  own  trade  than  himself  was.  This  Mr.  Hale  looked  on  as 
flattery ;  so  to  make  the  master  discover  himself,  he  promised 
him  the  house  he  lived  in,  for  he  was  his  tenant,  if  he  could  hit 
him  a  blow  on  the  head  :  and  bade  him  do  his  best,  for  he  would 
be  as  good  as  his  word :  so  after  a  little  engagement,  his  master 
being  really  superior  to  him,  hit  him  on  the  head,  and  he  per- 
formed his  promise  ;  for  he  gave  him  the  house  freely ;  and  was 
not  unwilling  at  that  rate  to  learn  so  early  to  distinguish  flattery 
from  plain  and  simple  truth. 

He  now  was  so  taken  up  with  martial  matters,  that  instead  of 
going  on  in  his  design  of  being  a  scholar,  or  a  divine,  he  resolved 
to  be  a  soldier :  and  his  tutor  Sedgwick  going  into  the  Low  Coun- 
tries, chaplain  to  the  renowned  lord  Vere,  he  resolved  to  go  along 
with  him,  and  to  trail  a  pike  in  the  prince  of  Orange's  army ;  but 
a  happy  stop  was  put  to  this  resolution,  which  might  have  proved 
so  fatal  to  himself,  and  have  deprived  the  age  of  the  great  exam- 
was  not  of  Mr.  Prynne's  judgment  (which  I  minded  him  of) ;  for  he  did  not 
think  it  unlawful,  but  very  fit  for  gentlemen  sometimes,  but  not  for  stu- 
dents." Seward's  Anecdotes  of  some  distinguished  Persons,  vol.  xviii.  p.  417. 
From  a  MS.  in  the  possession  of  Bennet  Langton,  esq.  (the  friend  of  Dr. 
Johnson),  written  by  Mr.  B.'s  great  grandfather,  who  studied  the  law  under 
the  direction  of  sir  Matthew  Hale. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention,  that  the  allusion  in  the  last  sentence  of 
the  extract,  is  to  Prynne's  Histrio-mastix,  the  Players'  Scourge,  or  Actors 
Tragedy,  by  William  Prynne,  1633,  4to. 

There  are  not  a  few  of  his  zealous  admirers,  to  whom  probably  it  will 
appear  an  extraordinary  circumstance,  that  the  great  and  the  grave  Selden 
should  have  been  a  strenuous  advocate  for  stage  plays. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  535 

pie  he  gave,  and  the  useful  services  he  afterwards  did  his  country. 
He  was  engaged  in  a  suit  of  law  with  sir  William  Whitmore, 
who  laid  claim  to  some  part  of  his  estate ;  and  his  guardian  being 
a  man  of  a  retired  temper,  and  not  made  for  business,  he  was 
forced  to  leave  the  university,  after  he  had  been  three  years  in  it, 
and  go  to  London  to  solicit  his  own  business.  Being  recom- 
mended to  Serjeant  Grlanvil  for  his  councellor,  he  observing  in  him 
a  clear  apprehension  of  things,  and  a  solid  judgment,  and  a  great 
fitness  for  the  study  of  the  law,  took  pains  upon  him  to  persuade 
him  to  forsake  his  thoughts  of  being  a  soldier,  and  to  apply  him- 
self to  the  study  of  the  law 4 ;  and  this  had  so  good  an  effect  on 
him,  that  on  the  8th  of  November,  1629,  when  he  was  past  the 
20th  year  of  his  age,  he  was  admitted  into  Lincoln's  Inn  ;  and 
being  then  deeply  sensible  how  much  time  he  had  lost,  and  that 
idle  and  vain  things  had  overrun  and  almost  corrupted  his  mind, 
he  resolved  to  redeem  the  time  he  had  lost,  and  followed  his 
studies  with  a  diligence  that  could  scarce  be  believed,  if  the  signal 
effects  of  it  did  not  gain  it  credit.  He  studied  for  many  years  at 
the  rate  of  sixteen  hours 5  a  day.  He  threw  aside  all  fine  clothes 6, 

4  The  study  of  the  law.~]  "  He  told  me  that  his  father  did  order  in  his  will, 
that  he  should  follow  the  law ;  that  he  came  from  the  university  with  some 
aversion  for  lawyers,  and  thought  them  a  barbarous  sort  of  people,  unfit  for 
any  thing  but  their  own  trade ;  but  having  occasion  to  speak  about  business 
with  serjeant  Glanvil,  he  found  him  of  such  prudence  and  candour,  that 
from  that  time  he  altered  his  apprehensions,  and  betook  himself  to  the  study 
of  the  law ;  and  oft  told  serjeant  Glanvil  that  he  was  the  cause  of  his  appli- 
cation to  the  law."    Seward's  Anecdotes,  <^c.  vol.  iv.  p.  416.    From  Langton's 
MS.  as  above. 

5  Sixteen  hours.']  "  My  respected  friend,  Mr.  Langton,  has  shewn  me,  in 
the  hand- writing  of  his  grandfather,  a  curious  account  of  a  conversation  he 
had  with  lord  chief  justice  Hale,  in  which  that  great  man  tells  him,  f  that  for 
two  years  after  he  came  to  the  inn  of  court,  he  studied  sixteen  hours  a  day  : 
however  (his  lordship  added)  that  by  this  intense  application  he  almost 
brought  himself  to  his  grave,  though  he  were  of  a  strong  constitution,  and 
after  reduced  himself  to  eight  hours  :  but  that  he  would  not  advise  any  body 
to  so  much :  that  he  thought  six  hours  a  day,  with  attention  and  constancy, 
was  sufficient.' "   Boswell's  Life  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  vol.  iv.  p.  334.    The 
conversation  is  printed,  at  large,  in  Seward's  Anecdotes,  and  in  Moral,  fyc. 
Works  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  edited  by  the  Rev.  T.  Thirlwall,  vol.  i.  p.  151. 
A.D.  1805. 

6  Fine  clothes.']  "  His  habit,"  (says  his  friend  Richard  Baxter,  referring  to 
his  later  years)  "  was  so  coarse  and  plain,  that  I  who  am  thought  guilty  of 
a  culpable  neglect  therein,  have  been  bold  to  desire  him  to  lay  by  some 
things  which  seemed  too  homely."     Preface  to  a  Letter  to  Mr.  Edward 


536  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

and  betook  himself  to  a  plain  fashion,  which  he  continued  to  use 
in  many  points  to  his  dying  day. 

But  since  the  honour  of  reclaiming  him  from  the  idleness  of  his 
former  course  of  life,  is  due  to  the  memory  of  that  eminent  lawyer 
Serjeant  Glanvil,  and  since  my  design  in  writing  is  to  propose  a 
pattern  of  heroick  virtue  to  the  world,  I  shall  mention  one  pas- 
sage of  the  Serjeant  which  ought  never  to  be  forgotten.  His 
father  had  a  fair  estate,  which  he  intended  to  settle  on  his  elder 
brother ;  but  he  being  a  vicious  young  man,  and  there  appearing 
no  hopes  of  his  recovery,  he  settled  it  on  him,  that  was  his  second 
son.  Upon  his  death,  his  eldest  son  finding  that  what  he  had 
before  looked  on  as  the  threatenings  of  an  angry  father,  was  now 
but  too  certain,  became  melancholy,  and  that  by  degrees  wrought 
so  great  a  change  on  him,  that  what  his  father  could  not  prevail 
in  while  he  lived,  was  now  effected  by  the  severity  of  his  last  will ; 
so  that  it  was  now  too  late  for  him  to  change  in  hopes  of  any 
estate  that  was  gone  from  him.  But  his  brother  observing  the 
reality  of  the  change,  resolved  within  himself  what  to  do.  So  he 
called  him  with  many  of  his  friends  together  to  a  feast,  and  after 
other  dishes  had  been  served  up  to  the  dinner,  he  ordered  one 
that  was  covered  to  be  set  before  his  brother,  and  desired  him  to 
uncover  it ;  which  he  doing,  the  company  was  surprised  to  find 
it  full  of  writings.  So  he  told  them  that  he  was  now  to  do,  what 
he  was  sure  his  father  would  have  done,  if  he  had  lived  to  see  that 
happy  change,  which  they  now  all  saw  in  his  brother :  and  there- 
fore he  freely  restored  to  him  the  whole  estate.  This  is  so  great 
an  instance  of  a  generous  and  just  disposition,  that  I  hope  the 
reader  will  easily  pardon  this  digression ;  and  that  the  rather, 
since  that  worthy  Serjeant  was  so  instrumental  in  the  happy  chance 
that  followed  in  the  course  of  Mr.  Kale's  life. 

Yet  he  did  not  at  first  break  off  from  keeping  too  much  com- 
pany with  some  vain  people,  till  a  sad  accident  drove  him  from  it. 
For  he  with  some  other  young  students,  being  invited  to  be  merry 
out  of  town,  one  of  the  company  called  for  so  much  wine,  that 
notwithstanding  all  that  Mr.  Hale  could  do  to  prevent  it,  he  w«-ut 
on  in  his  excess  till  he  fell  down  as  dead  before  them,  so  that  all 
that  were  present  were  not  a  little  affrighted  at  it,  who  did  what 
they  could  to  bring  him  to  himself  again.  This  did  particularly 

Stephens.  See  Moral,  ffc.  Works  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  vol.  i.  p.  89.  A.D. 
1805.  8vo. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  537 

affect  Mr.  Hale,  who  thereupon  went  into  another  room,  and 
shutting  the  door,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  prayed  earnestly  to  God, 
both  for  his  friend,  that  he  might  be  restored  to  life  again,  and 
that  himself  might  be  forgiven  for  giving  such  countenance  to  so 
much  excess  :  and  he  vowed  to  God,  that  he  would  never  again 
keep  company  in  that  manner,  nor  drink  a  health  while  he  lived. 
His  friend  recovered  and  he  most  religiously  observed  his  vow, 
till  his  dying  day.  And  though  he  was  afterwards  pressed  to 
drink  healths  a,  particularly  the  king's,  which  was  set  up  by  too 
many  as  a  distinguishing  mark  of  loyalty,  and  drew  many  into 
great  excess  after  his  majesty's  happy  restoration ;  but  he 
would  never  dispense  with  his  vow,  though  he  was  sometimes 
roughly  treated  for  this,  which  some  hot  and  indiscreet  men  called 
obstinacy. 

This  wrought  an  entire  change  on  him.  Now  he  forsook  all 
vain  company,  and  divided  himself  between  the  duties  of  religion, 
and  the  studies  of  his  profession.  In  the  former  he  was  so  regu- 
lar, that  for  six  and  thirty  years  time,  he  never  once  failed  going 
to  church  on  the  Lord's  day 7.  This  observation  he  made  when 
an  ague  first  interrupted  that  constant  course,  and  he  reflected  on 
it,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  God's  great  goodness  to  him,  in  so 
long  a  continuance  of  his  health. 

a  Drink  healths]  See  Burnet's  Hist,  of  his  Own  Time,  vol.  i.  p.  127,  A.D. 
1660,  edit.  1809.  8vo. 

7  On  the  Lord's  day.~\  "  He  told  me  once,  how  God  brought  him  to  a  fixed 
honour  and  observation  of  the  Lord's  day  :  that  when  he  was  young,  being 
in  the  West,  the  sickness  or  death  of  some  relation  at  London,  made  some 
matter  of  estate  to  become  his  concernment,  which  required  his  hastening  to 
London,  from  the  West,  and  he  was  commanded  to  travel  on  the  Lord's 
day :  but  I  cannot  well  remember  how  many  cross  accidents  befel  him  in 
his  journey:  one  horse  fell  lame,  another  died,  and  much  more;  which 
struck  him  with  such  a  sense  of  divine  rebuke  as  he  never  forgot."  Richard 
Baxter's  Letter  to  Mr.  Stephens,  p.  104.  Moral,  fyc.  Works  of  Sir  Matthew 
Hale,  vol.  i. 

The  judge  has  imparted  the  following  important  and  consolatory  testi- 
mony, respecting  his  own  experience  of  the  interposition  of  divine  agency. 
"This  secret  direction  of  Almighty  God  is  principally  seen  in  matters  relating 
to  the  good  of  the  soul ;  yet  it  may  also  be  found  in  the  concerns  of  this  life ; 
which  a  good  man,  that  fears  God,  and  begs  his  direction,  shall  very  often, 
if  not  at  all  times,  find. 

"  I  can  call  my  own  experience  to  witness,  that  even  in  the  external  actions 
of  my  whole  life,  I  was  never  disappointed  of  the  best  guidance  and  direction, 
when  I  have,  in  humility  and  sincerity,  implored  the  secret  direction  and 
guidance  of  the  divine  wisdom." 


538  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

He  took  a  strict  account  of  his  time,  of  which  the  reader  will 
best  judge,  by  the  scheme  he  drew  for  a  diary,  which  I  shall 
insert  copied  from  the  original,  but  I  am  not  certain  when  he  made 
it.  It  is  set  down  in  the  same  simplicity  in  which  he  writ  it  for 
his  own  private  use. 

MORNING. 

I.  To  lift  up  the  heart  to  God  in  thankfulness  for  renewing  my  life. 

II.  To  renew  my  covenant  with  God  in  Christ.     1.  By  renewed  acts  of  faith 
receiving  Christ,  and  rejoicing  in  the  height  of  that  relation.   2.  Resolution 
of  being  one  of  his  people  doing  him  allegiance. 

III.  Adoration  and  prayer. 

IV.  Setting  a  watch  over  my  own  infirmities  and  passions,  over  the  snares 
laid  in  our  way.     Perimus  licitis  8. 

DAY    EMPLOYMENT. 

There  must  be  in  employment,  two  kinds : 

I.  Our  ordinary  calling,  to  serve  God  in  it.     It  is  a  service  to  Christ  though 
never  so  mean.      Colos.  3.      Here  faithfulness,  diligence,  cheerfulness. 
Not  to  overlay  myself  with  more  business  than  I  can  bear. 

II.  Our  spiritual  employments.     Mingle  somewhat  of  God's  immediate  ser- 
vice in  every  day. 

REFRESHMENTS. 

I.  Meat  and  drink,  moderation  seasoned  with  somewhat  of  God. 

II.  Recreations.     1.  Not  our  business.     2.  Suitable.     No  games,  if  given  to 
covetousness  or  passion. 

IF    ALONE. 

I.  Beware  of  wandering  vain  lustful  thoughts :  fly  from  thyself  rather  than 
entertain  these. 

II.  Let  thy  solitary  thoughts  be  profitable;  view  the  evidences  of  thy  salva- 
tion, the  state  of  thy  soul,  the  coming  of  Christ,  thy  own  mortality ;  it  will 
make  thee  humble  and  watchful. 

COMPANY. 

Do  good  to  them.  Use  God's  name  reverently.  Beware  of  leaving  an  ill 
impression  of  ill  example.  Receive  good  from  them,  if  more  knowing. 

EVENING. 

Cast  up  the  accompts  of  the  day.  If  aught  amiss,  beg  pardon.  Gather 
resolution  of  more  vigilance.  If  well,  bless  the  mercy  and  grace  of  God 
that  hath  supported  thee. 

8  Perimus  licitis.]  "  I  have  still  chosen,  to  forbear  what  might  be  probably 
lawful,  rather  than  to  do  that,  which  might  be  possibly  unlawful :  because,  I 
could  not  err  in  the  former;  I  might,  in  the  latter.  If  things  wen 
putable,  whether  they  might  be  done,  I  rather  chose  to  forbear ;  because  the 
lawfulness  of  my  forbearance  was  unquestionable."  Hale's  Moral  Works,  $c. 
vol.  ii.  p.  262. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  539 

These  notes  have  an  imperfection  in  the  wording  of  them, 
which  shews  they  were  only  intended  for  his  privacies.  No 
wonder  a  man  who  set  such  rules  to  himself,  became  quickly  very 
eminent  and  remarkable. 

Noy,  the  attorney-general,  being  then  one  of  the  greatest  men 
of  the  profession,  took  early  notice  of  him,  and  called  often  for 
him  and  directed  him  in  his  study,  and  grew  to  have  such  friend- 
ship for  him,  that  he  came  to  be  called  young  Noy. 

He  passing  from  the  extreme  of  vanity  in  his  apparel,  to  that 
of  neglecting  himself  too  much,  was  once  taken  when  there  was 
a  press  for  the  king's  service,  as  a  fit  person  for  it ;  for  he  was  a 
strong  and  well-built  man  :  but  some  that  knew  him  coming  by, 
and  giving  notice  who  he  was,  the  press-men  let  him  go.  This 
made  him  return  to  more  decency  in  his  clothes,  but  never  to 
any  superfluity  or  vanity  in  them. 

Once  as  he  was  buying  some  cloth  for  a  new  suit,  the  draper, 
with  whom  he  differed  about  the  price,  told  him  he  should  have  it 
for  nothing,  if  he  would  promise  him  an  hundred  pound  when  he 
came  to  be  lord  chief  justice  of  England ;  to  which  he  answered, 
that  he  could  not  with  a  good  conscience  wear  any  man's  cloth, 
unless  he  paid  for  it ;  so  he  satisfied  the  draper,  and  carried  away 
the  cloth.  Yet  the  same  draper  lived  to  see  him  advanced  to 
that  same  dignity. 

While  he  was  thus  improving  himself  in  the  study  of  the  law, 
he  not  only  kept  the  hours  of  the  hall  constantly  in  term  time, 
but  seldom  put  himself  out  of  commons  in  vacation  time,  and 
continued  then  to  follow  his  studies  with  an  unwearied  diligence  ; 
and  not  being  satisfied  with  the  books  writ  about  it,  or  to  take 
things  upon  trust,  was  very  diligent  in  searching  all  records. 
Then  did  he  make  divers  collections  out  of  the  books  he  had 
read,  and  mixing  them  with  his  own  observations,  digested  them 
into  a  common  place  book ;  which  he  did  with  so  much  industry 
and  judgment,  that  an  eminent  judge  of  the  King's  Bench,  bor- 
rowed it  of  him  when  he  was  lord  chief  baron.  He  unwillingly 
lent  it,  because  it  had  been  writ  by  him  before  he  was  called  to 
the  bar,  and  had  never  been  thoroughly  revised  by  him  since  that 
time,  only  what  alterations  had  been  made  in  the  law  by  subse- 
quent statutes,  and  judgments,  were  added  by  him  as  they  had 
happened  :  but  the  judge  having  perused  it  said,  that  though  it 
was  composed  by  him  so  early,  he  did  not  think  any  lawyer  in 
England  could  do  it  better,  except  he  himself  would  again  set 
about  it. 


540  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

He  was  soon  found  out  by  that  great  and  learned  antiquary 
Mr.  Selden,  who  though  much  superior  to  him  in  years,  yet  came 
to  have  such  a  liking  of  him,  and  of  Mr.  Vaughan,  who  was  after- 
wards lord  chief  justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  that  as  he  con- 
tinued in  a  close  friendship  with  them  while  he  lived,  so  he  left 
them  at  his  death,  two  of  his  four  executors. 

It  was  this  acquaintance  that  first  set  Mr.  Hale  on  a  more 
enlarged  pursuit  of  learning,  which  he  had  before  confined  to  his 
own  profession ;  but  becoming  as  great  a  master  in  it,  as  ever 
any  was,  very  soon,  he  who  could  never  let  any  of  his  time  go 
away  unprofitably,  found  leisure  to  attain  to  as  great  a  variety  of 
knowledge,  in  as  comprehensive  a  manner  as  most  men  have  done 
in  any  age. 

He  set  himself  much  to  the  study  of  the  Roman  law,  and 
though  he  liked  the  way  of  judicature  in  England  by  juries  much 
better  than  that  of  the  civil  law,  where  so  much  was  trusted  to 
the  judge  ;  yet  he  often  said,  that  the  true  grounds  and  reasons 
of  law  were  so  well  delivered  in  the  Digests 9,  that  a  man  could 
never  understand  law  as  a  science  so  well  as  by  seeking  it  there ; 
and  therefore  lamented  much  that  it  was  so  little  studied  in 
England. 

He  looked  on  readiness  in  arithmetic  as  a  thing  which  might 
be  useful  to  him  in  his  own  employment,  and  acquired  it  to  such 
a  degree,  that  he  would  often  on  the  sudden,  and  afterwards  on 
the  bench,  resolve  very  hard  questions,  which  had  puzzled  the 
best  accomptants  about  town.  He  rested  not  here,  but  studied 
the  algebra  both  speciosa  and  numerosa,  and  went  through  all 
the  other  mathematical  sciences,  and  made  a  great  collection  of 
very  excellent  instruments,  sparing  no  cost  to  have  them  as  exact 
as  art  could  make  them.  He  was  also  very  conversant  in  phi- 
losophical learning,  and  in  all  the  curious  experiments  and  rare 
discoveries  of  this  age :  and  had  the  new  books  written  on  those 
subjects  sent  from  all  parts,  which  he  both  read  and  examined  so 
critically,  that  if  the  principles  and  hypotheses  which  he  took  first 
up,  did  any  way  prepossess  him,  yet  those  who  have  differed  n 
from  him,  have  acknowledged,  that  in  what  he  has  writ  concerning 
the  Torricellian  experiment,  and  of  the  rarefaction  and  conden- 
sation of  the  air,  he  shews  as  great  an  exactness,  and  as  much 
subtilty  in  the  reasoning  he  builds  on  them,  as  these  principles 
to  which  he  adhered  could  bear.  But  indeed  it  will  seem  s( . 

9  Digests.]  The  Digesta  or  Pandecta  of  Justinian. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  541 

credible,  that  a  man  so  much  employed,  and  of  so  severe  a  tem- 
per of  mind,  could  find  leisure  to  read,  observe  and  write  so  much 
of  these  subjects  as  he  did.  He  called  them  his  diversions ;  for 
he  often  said,  when  he  was  weary  with  the  study  of  the  law,  or 
divinity,  he  used  to  recreate  himself  with  philosophy  or  the  mathe- 
matics. To  these  he  added  great  skill  in  physic,  anatomy  and 
chirurgery :  and  he  used  to  say,  "  no  man  could  be  absolutely  a 
master  in  any  profession,  without  having  some  skill  in  other 
sciences ;"  for  besides  the  satisfaction  he  had  in  the  knowledge 
of  these  things,  he  made  use  of  them  often  in  his  employments. 
In  some  examinations  he  would  put  such  questions  to  physicians 
or  chirurgeons,  that  they  have  professed  the  college  of  physicians 
could  not  do  it  more  exactly ;  by  which  he  discovered  great  judg- 
ment, as  well  as  much  knowledge  in  these  things.  And  in  his 
sickness  he  used  to  argue  with  his  doctors  about  his  distempers, 
and  the  methods  they  took  with  them,  like  one  of  their  own  pro- 
fession ;  which  one  of  them  told  me  he  understood,  as  far  as  spe- 
culation without  practice  could  carry  him, 

To  this  he  added  great  searches  into  ancient  history,  and  par- 
ticularly into  the  roughest  and  least  delightful  part  of  it,  chrono- 
logy. He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  ancient  Greek  philoso- 
phers ;  but  want  of  occasion  to  use  it,  wore  out  his  knowledge  of 
the  Greek  tongue ;  and  though  he  never  studied  the  Hebrew 
tongue,  yet  by  his  great  conversation  with  Selden,  he  understood 
the  most  curious  things  in  the  rabbinical  learning. 

But  above  all  these  he  seemed  to  have  made  the  study  of  divi- 
nity the  chief  of  all  others ;  to  which  he  not  only  directed  every 
thing  else,  but  also  arrived  at  that  pitch  in  it,  that  those  who 
have  read  what  he  has  written  on  these  subjects,  will  think  they 
must  have  had  most  of  his  time  and  thoughts. 

It  may  seem  extravagant,  and  almost  incredible,  that  one  man, 
in  no  great  compass  of  years,  should  have  acquired  such  a  variety 
of  knowledge :  and  that  in  sciences,  that  require  much  leisure 
and  application.  But  as  his  parts  were  quick,  and  his  apprehen- 
sions lively,  his  memory  great,  and  his  judgments  strong ;  so  his 
industry  was  almost  indefatigable.  He  rose  always  betimes  in 
the  morning ;  was  never  idle  ;  scarce  ever  held  any  discourse 
about  news,  except  with  some  few  in  whom  he  confided  entirely. 
He  entered  into  no  correspondence  by  letters,  except  about 
necessary  business,  or  matters  of  learning,  and  spent  very  little 
time  in  eating  or  drinking ;  for  as  he  never  went  to  public  feasts, 


542  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

so  he  gave  no  entertainments  but  to  the  poor ;  for  he  followed 
our  Saviour's  directions  (of  feasting  none  but  these)  literally :  and 
in  eating  and  drinking,  he  observed  not  only  great  plainness  and 
moderation,  but  lived  so  philosophically,  that  he  always  ended  his 
meal  with  an  appetite  10 ;  so  that  he  lost  little  time  at  it,  (that 
being  the  only  portion  which  he  grudged  himself)  and  was  dis- 
posed to  any  exercise  of  his  mind  to  which  he  thought  fit  to  apply 
himself,  immediately  after  he  had  dined.  By  these  means  he  gained 
much  time,  that  is  otherwise  unprofitably  wasted. 

He  had  also  an  admirable  equality  in  the  temper  of  his  mind, 
which  disposed  him  for  whatever  studies  he  thought  fit  to  turn 
himself  to  ;  and  some  very  uneasy  things  which  he  lay  under  for 
many  years,  did  rather  engage  him  to,  than  distract  him  from  his 
studies. 

When  he  was  called  to  the  bar,  and  began  to  make  a  figure  in 
the  world,  the  late  unhappy  wars  broke  out,  in  which  it  was  no 
easy  thing  for  a  man  to  preserve  his  integrity,  and  to  live  securely 
free  from  great  danger  and  trouble.  He  had  read  the  life  of 
Pomponius  Atticus,  writ  by  Nepos;  and  having  observed,  that 
he  had  passed  through  a  time  of  as  much  distraction,  as  ever  was 
in  any  age  or  state,  from  the  wars  of  Marius  and  Sylla,  to  the 
beginning  of  Augustus's  reign,  without  the  least  blemish  on  his 
reputation,  and  free  from  any  considerable  danger,  being  held  in 
great  esteem  by  all  parties,  and  courted  and  favoured  by  them ; 
he  set  him  as  a  pattern  to  himself:  and  observing,  that  besides 
those  virtues  which  are  necessary  to  all  men,  and  at  all  times, 
there  were  two  things  that  chiefly  preserved  Atticus ;  the  MM 
was  his  engaging  in  no  faction,  and  meddling  in  no  public  busi- 
ness ;  the  other  was  his  constant  favouring  and  relieving  those 
that  were  lowest,  which  was  ascribed  by  such  as  prevailed  to  the 
generosity  of  his  temper,  and  procured  him  much  kindness  from 
those  on  whom  he  had  exercised  his  bounty,  when  it  came  to 
their  turn  to  govern :  he  resolved  to  guide  himself  by  those  rules 
as  much  as  was  possible  for  him  to  do. 

He  not  only  avoided  all  public  employment,  but  the  very  talk- 
ing of  news,  and  was  always  both  favourable  and  charitable  to 
those  who  were  depressed,  and  was  sure  never  to  provoke  any  in 

10  With  an  appetite.']  "  This,  sir,"  said  an  eminent  physician  to  the  present 
writer,  "  is  the  true  rule  of  temperance  and  health."  Bishop  Jebb,  Burnet's 
Lives,  <$-c.  p.  31,  n. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  543 

particular,  by  censuring  or  reflecting  on  their  actions ;  for  many 
that  have  conversed  much  with  him,  have  told  me  they  never  heard 
him  once  speak  ill  of  any  person. 

He  was  employed  in  his  practice  by  all  the  king's  party.  He 
was  assigned  council  to  the  earl  of  Strafford,  and  archbishop  Laud, 
and  afterwards  to  the  blessed  king  himself,  when  brought  to  the 
infamous  pageantry  of  a  mock  trial,  and  offered  to  plead  for  him 
with  all  the  courage  that  so  glorious  a  cause  ought  to  have  inspired 
him  with ;  but  was  not  suffered  to  appear,  because  the  king  re- 
fusing, as  he  had  good  reason,  to  submit  to  the  court,  it  was  pre- 
tended none  could  be  admitted  to  speak  for  him.  He  was  also 
council  for  the  duke  of  Hamilton,  the  earl  of  Holland,  and  the 
lord  Capel.  His  plea  for  the  former  of  these,  I  have  published  in 
the  memoirs  of  that  duke's  life.  Afterwards  also  being  council 
for  the  lord  Craven,  he  pleaded  with  that  force  of  argument,  that 
the  then  attorney-general  threatened  him  for  appearing  against 
the  government :  to  whom  he  answered,  "  he  was  pleading  in 
defence  of  those  laws,  which  they  declared  they  would  maintain 
and  preserve  :  and  he  was  doing  his  duty  to  his  client,  so  that  he 
was  not  to  be  daunted  with  threatenings." 

Upon  all  these  occasions  he  had  discharged  himself  with  so 
much  learning,  fidelity,  and  courage,  that  he  came  to  be  generally 
employed  for  all  that  party.  Nor  was  he  satisfied  to  appear  for 
their  just  defence  in  the  way  of  his  profession,  but  he  also  relieved 
them  often  in  their  necessities  ;  which  he  did  in  a  way  that  was 
no  less  prudent  than  charitable,  considering  the  dangers  of  that 
time :  for  he  did  often  deposit  considerable  sums  in  the  hands  of 
a  worthy  gentleman  of  the  king's  party,  who  knew  their  necessities 
well,  and  was  to  distribute  his  charity  according  to  his  own  dis- 
cretion, without  either  letting  them  know  from  whence  it  came, 
or  giving  himself  any  account  to  whom  he  had  given  it. 

Cromwell  seeing  him  possessed  of  so  much  practice,  and  he 
being  one  of  the  eminentest  men  of  the  law,  who  was  not  at  all 
afraid  of  doing  his  duty  in  those  critical  times ;  resolved  to  take 
him  off  from  it,  and  raise  him  to  the  bench. 

Mr.  Hale  saw  well  enough  the  snare  laid  for  him ;  and  though 
he  did  not  much  consider  the  prejudice  it  would  be  to  himself,  to 
exchange  the  easy  and  safer  profits  he  had  by  his  practice,  for  a 
judge's  place  in  the  common-pleas,  which  he  was  required  to 
accept  of,  yet  he  did  deliberate  more  on  the  lawfulness  of  taking 
a  commission  from  usurpers  ;  but  having  considered  well  of  this, 


544  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

he  came  to  be  of  opinion,  "  that  it  being  absolutely  necessary,  to 
have  justice  and  property  kept  up  at  all  times,  it  was  no  sin  to 
take  a  commission  from  usurpers,  if  he  made  no  declaration  of 
his  acknowledging  their  authority;"  which  he  never  did.  He 
was  much  urged  to  accept  of  it  by  some  eminent  men  of  his  own 
profession,  who  were  of  the  king's  party ;  as  sir  Orlando  Bridge- 
man,  and  sir  Geoffery  Palmer ;  and  was  also  satisfied  concerning 
the  lawfulness  of  it  *,  by  the  resolution  of  some  famous  divines, 
in  particular  Dr.  Sheldon  and  Dr.  Henchman,  who  were  after- 
wards promoted  to  the  sees  of  Canterbury  and  London. 

To  these  were  added  the  importunities  of  all  his  friends,  who 
thought  that  in  a  time  of  so  much  danger  and  oppression,  it  might 
be  no  small  security  to  the  nation,  to  have  a  man  of  his  integrity 
and  abilities  on  the  bench.  And  the  usurpers  themselves  held 
him  in  that  estimation,  that  they  were  glad  to  have  him  give  a 
countenance  to  their  courts,  and  by  promoting  one  that  was  known 
to  have  different  principles  from  them,  affected  the  reputation  of 
honouring  and  trusting  men  of  eminent  virtues,  of  what  persua- 
sion soever  they  might  be,  in  relation  to  public  matters. 

But  he  had  greater  scruples  concerning  the  proceeding  against 
felons,  and  putting  offenders  to  death,  by  that  commission,  since 
he  thought,  the  sword  of  justice  belonging  only  by  right  to  the 
lawful  prince,  it  seemed  not  warrantable  to  proceed  to  a  capital 
sentence  by  an  authority  derived  from  usurpers ;  yet  at  first  he 
made  distinction  between  common  and  ordinary  felonies,  and 
offences  against  the  state :  for  the  last,  he  would  never  meddle  in 
them ;  for  he  thought  these  might  be  often  legal  and  warrantable 
actions,  and  that  the  putting  men  to  death  on  that  account 
murder ;  but  for  the  ordinary  felonies,  he  at  first  was  of  opinion, 
that  it  was  as  necessary,  even  in  times  of  usurpation,  to  execute 
justice  in  those  cases,  as  in  matters  of  property.  But  after  the 
king  was  murdered,  he  laid  by  all  his  collections  of  the  pleas  of 


1  The  lawfulness  of  it.']  So  we  are  informed  by  a  very  intelligent  contem- 
porary writer ;  "  the  judges,  debating  what  to  do,  unanimously  agreed  to 
act :  because  there  was  a  necessity  that  justice  should  be  administered  to  the 
people,  and  the  laws  kept  in  force.  They  did  not  think  it  fit  to  demur  and 
delay  till  the  names  of  king  and  parliament  should  be  put  in  their  commis- 
sion. They  knew  they  were  not  essential  to  justice,  or  necessary,  or  so  much 
as  conducing  to  the  administration  thereof,  as  the  case  then  was."  Politica 
sacra  et  civilis,  by  George  Lawson,  rector  of  More  in  the  county  of  Salop. 
1689.  3d  edit.  p.  386. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  545 

the  crown  ;  and  that  they  might  not  fall  into  ill  hands,  he  hid  them 
behind  the  wainscotting  of  his  study,  for  he  said  "  there  was  no 
more  occasion  to  use  them,  till  the  king  should  be  again  restored 
to  his  right ;"  and  so,  upon  his  majesty's  restoration,  he  took 
them  out,  and  went  on  in  his  design  to  perfect  that  great  work. 

Yet  for  some  time,  after  he  was  made  a  judge,  when  he  went 
the  circuit,  he  did  sit  on  the  crown-side,  and  judged  criminals. 
But  having  considered  farther  of  it,  he  came  to  think  that  it  was 
at  least  better  not  to  do  it ;  and  so  after  the  second  or  third 
circuit,  he  refused  to  sit  any  more  on  the  crown-side,  and  told 
plainly  the  reason ;  for  in  matters  of  blood,  he  was  always  to 
choose  the  safer  side.  And  indeed  he  had  so  carried  himself  in 
some  trials,  that  they  were  not  unwilling  he  should  withdraw  from 
meddling  farther  in  them ;  of  which  I  shall  give  some  instances. 

Not  long  after  he  was  made  a  judge,  which  was  in  the  year 
1653,  when  he  went  the  circuit,  a  trial  was  brought  before  him  at 
Lincoln,  concerning  the  murder  of  one  of  the  townsmen,  who  had 
been  of  the  king's  party,  and  was  killed  by  a  soldier  of  the  garri- 
son there.  He  was  in  the  fields  with  a  fowling-piece  on  his 
shoulder ;  which  the  soldier  seeing,  he  came  to  him,  and  said,  "  it 
was  contrary  to  an  order  which  the  protector  had  made,  that  none 
who  had  ~been  of  the  king's  party  should  carry  arms ;"  and  so  he 
would  have  forced  it  from  him.  But  as  the  other  did  not  regard 
the  order,  so  being  stronger  than  the  soldier,  he  threw  him  down, 
and  having  beat  him,  he  left  him.  The  soldier  went  into  the 
town,  and  told  one  of  his  fellow-soldiers  how  he  had  been  used, 
and  got  him  to  go  with  him,  and  lie  in  wait  for  the  man,  that  he 
might  be  revenged  on  him.  They  both  watched  his  coming  to 
town,  and  one  of  them  went  to  him  to  demand  his  gun ;  which  he 
refusing,  the  soldier  struck  at  him ;  and  as  they  were  struggling, 
the  other  came  behind,  and  ran  his  sword  into  his  body ;  of  which 
he  presently  died.  It  was  in  the  time  of  the  assizes,  so  they  were 
both  tried.  Against  the  one  there  was  no  evidence  of  forethought 
felony,  so  he  was  only  found  guilty  of  manslaughter,  and  burnt  on 
the  hand  ;  but  the  other  was  found  guilty  of  murder.  And  though 
colonel  Whaley,  that  commanded  the  garrison,  came  into  the 
court,  and  urged,  "  that  the  man  was  killed  only  for  disobeying 
the  protector's  order,"  and  "  that  the  soldier  was  but  doing  his 
duty  ;"  yet  the  judge  regarded  both  his  reasons  and  threatenings 
very  little  ;  and  therefore  he  not  only  gave  sentence  against  him, 
but  ordered  the  execution  to  be  so  suddenly  done,  that  it  might 

VOL.  iv.  N  n 


546  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

not  be  possible  to  procure  a  reprieve ;  which  he  believed  would 
have  been  obtained,  if  there  had  been  time  enough  granted  for  it. 

Another  occasion  was  given  him,  of  shewing  both  his  justice 
and  courage,  when  he  was  in  another  circuit.  He  understood 
that  the  protector  had  ordered  a  jury  to  be  returned  for  a  trial,  in 
which  he  was  more  than  ordinarily  concerned.  Upon  this  inform- 
ation, he  examined  the  sheriff  about  it,  who  knew  nothing  of  it, 
for  he  said  he  referred  all  such  things  to  the  under-sheriff;  and 
having  next  asked  the  under-sheriff  concerning  it,  he  found  the 
jury  had  been  returned  by  order  from  Cromwell :  upon  which  he 
shewed  the  statute,  that  all  juries  ought  to  be  returned  by  the 
sheriff,  or  his  lawful  officer ;  and  this  not  being  done  according  to 
law,  he  dismissed  the  jury,  and  would  not  try  the  cause :  upon 
which  the  protector  was  highly  displeased  with  him,  and  at  his 
return  from  the  circuit,  he  told  him  in  anger,  "  he  was  not  fit  to 
be  a  judge ;"  to  which  all  the  answer  he  made  was  "  that  it  was 
very  true." 

Another  thing  met  him  in  the  circuit,  upon  which  he  resolved 
to  have  proceeded  severely.  Some  anabaptists  had  rushed  into  a 
church,  and  had  disturbed  a  congregation,  while  they  were  receiv- 
ing the  sacrament,  not  without  some  violence.  At  this  he  was 
highly  offended,  for  he  said  "  it  was  intolerable  for  men,  who  pre- 
tended so  highly  to  liberty  of  conscience,  to  go  and  disturb  others ; 
especially  those  who  had  the  encouragement  of  the  law  on  their 
side."  But  these  were  so  supported  by  some  great  magistrates 
and  officers,  that  a  stop  was  put  to  his  proceedings ;  upon  which 
he  declared,  he  would  "  meddle  no  more  with  the  trials  on  the 
crown-side." 

When  Penruddock's  trial  was  brought  on,  there  was  a  special 
messenger  sent  to  him,  requiring  him  to  assist  at  it.  It  was  in 
vacation  time,  and  he  was  at  his  country-house  at  Alderly.  He 
plainly  refused  to  go,  and  said,  "  the  four  terms,  and  two  circuits, 
were  enough,  and  the  little  interval  that  was  between,  was  little 
enough  for  their  private  affairs ;"  and  so  he  excused  himself.  He 
thought  it  was  not  necessary  to  speak  more  clearly ;  but  if  he 
had  been  urged  to  it,  he  would  not  have  been  afraid  of  doing  it. 

He  was  at  that  time  chosen  a  parliament-man  (for  there  be-in  ^ 
tin  n  no  house  of  lords,  judges  might  have  been  chosen  to  sit  in 
the  house  of  commons),  and  he  went  to  it,  on  design  to  obstruct 
the  mad  and  wicked  projects  then  on  foot,  by  two  parties,  that 
had  very  different  principles  and  ends. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  547 

On  the  one  hand,  some  that  were  perhaps  more  sincere,  yet 
were  really  brain-sick,  designed  they  knew  not  what,  being  re- 
solved to  pull  down  a  standing  ministry,  the  law  and  property  of 
England,  and  all  the  ancient  rules  of  this  government,  and  set  up 
in  its  room  an  indigested  enthusiastical  scheme,  which  they  called 
the  kingdom  of  Christ,  or  of  his  saints;  many  of  them  being 
really  in  expectation,  thafc  one  day  or  another  Christ  would  come 
down,  and  sit  among  them,  and  at  least  they  thought  to  begin 
the  glorious  thousand  years  mentioned  in  the  Revelation. 

Others  at  the  same  time,  taking  advantages  from  the  fears  and 
apprehensions,  that  all  the  sober  men  of  the  nation  were  in,  lest 
they  should  fall  under  the  tyranny  of  a  distracted  sort  of  people, 
who  to  all  their  other  ill  principles,  added  great  cruelty,  which 
they  had  copied  from  those  at  Munster  in  the  former  age,  intended 
to  improve  that  opportunity  to  raise  their  own  fortunes  and  fami- 
lies. Amidst  these,  judge  Hale  steered  a  middle  course  ;  for  as 
he  would  engage  for  neither  side,  so  he,  with  a  great  many  more 
worthy  men,  came  to  parliaments,  more  out  of  a  design  to  hinder 
mischief,  than  to  do  much  good  ;  wisely  foreseeing  that  the  incli- 
nations for  the  royal  family  were  daily  growing  so  much,  that  in 
time  the  disorders  then  in  agitation,  would  ferment  to  that  happy 
resolution,  in  which  they  determined  in  May,  1660:  and  there- 
fore all  that  could  be  then  done,  was  to  oppose  the  ill  designs  of 
both  parties,  the  enthusiasts  as  well  as  the  usurpers.  Among  the 
other  extravagant  motions  made  in  this  parliament,  one  was  to 
destroy  all  the  records  in  the  Tower,  and  to  settle  the  nation  on  a 
new  foundation :  so  he  took  this  province  to  himself,  to  shew  the 
madness  of  this  proposition,  the  injustice  of  it,  and  the  mischiefs 
that  would  follow  on  it;  and  did  it  with  such  clearness,  and 
strength  of  reason,  as  not  only  satisfied  all  sober  persons  (for  it 
may  be  supposed  that  was  soon  done)  but  stopped  even  the  mouths 
of  the  frantic  people  themselves. 

Thus  he  continued  administering  justice  till  the  protector  died : 
but  then  he  both  refused  the  mournings  that  were  sent  to  him 
and  his  servants  for  the  funeral,  and  likewise  to  accept  of  the  new 
commission  that  was  offered  him  by  Richard ;  and  when  the  rest 
of  the  judges  urged  it  upon  him,  and  employed  others  to  press 
him  to  accept  of  it,  he  rejected  all  their  importunities,  and  said, 
"  He  could  act  no  longer  under  such  authority." 

He  lived  a  private  man  till  the  parliament  met  that  called  home 
the  king,  to  which  he  was  returned  knight  of  the  shire  from  the 

K  n  2 


548  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

county  of  Gloucester.  It  appeared  at  that  time  how  much  he 
was  beloved  and  esteemed  in  his  neighbourhood ;  for  though 
another,  who  stood  in  competition  with  him,  had  spent  near  a 
thousand  pounds  to  procure  voices,  a  great  sum  to  be  employed 
that  way  in  those  days,  and  he  had  been  at  no  cost ;  and  was  so 
far  from  soliciting  it,  that  he  had  stood  out  long  against  those 
who  pressed  him  to  appear,  and  he  did  not  promise  to  appear 
till  three  days  before  the  election,  yet  he  was  preferred.  He  was 
brought  thither  almost  by  violence,  by  the  lord  (now  earl  of) 
Berkeley,  who  bore  all  the  charge  of  the  entertainments  on  the 
day  of  his  election,  which  was  considerable,  and  had  engaged  all 
his  friends  and  interest  for  him.  And  whereas  by  the  writ,  the 
knight  of  a  shire  must  be  miles  gladio  cinctus,  and  he  had  no 
sword,  that  noble  lord  girt  him  with  his  own  sword  during  the 
election ;  but  he  was  soon  weary  of  it,  for  the  embroidery  of  the 
belt  did  not  suite  well  with  the  plainness  of  his  clothes :  and  indeed 
the  election  did  not  hold  long ;  for  as  soon  as  ever  he  came  into 
the  field,  he  was  chosen  by  much  the  greater  number,  though  the 
poll  continued  for  three  or  four  days. 

In  that  parliament  he  bore  his  share  in  the  happy  period  then 
put  to  the  confusions  that  threatened  the  utter  ruin  of  the  nation, 
which,  contrary  to  the  expectations  of  the  most  sanguine,  settled 
in  so  serene  and  quiet  a  manner,  that  they  who  had  formerly  built 
so  much  on  their  success,  calling  it  an  answer  from  heaven  to  their 
solemn  appeals  to  the  providence  of  God,  were  now  not  a  little 
confounded,  to  see  all  this  turned  against  themselves,  in  an  in- 
stance much  more  extraordinary  than  any  of  those  were,  upon 
which  they  had  built  so  much.  His  great  prudence  and  excellent 
temper  led  him  to  think,  that  the  sooner  an  act  of  indemnity  were 
passed,  and  the  fuller  it  were  of  graces  and  favours,  it  would  sooner 
settle  the  nation,  and  quiet  the  minds  of  the  people;  and  tl 
fore  he  applied  himself  with  a  particular  care  to  the  framing  and 
carrying  it  on :  in  which  it  was  visible  he  had  no  concern  ol  'his 
own,  but  merely  his  love  of  the  public  that  set  him  on  to  it. 

Soon  after  this,  when  the  courts  in  Westminster  Hall  cam 
be  settled,  he  was  made  lord  chief  baron;  and  when  the  earl  of 
Clarendon  (then  lord  chancellor)  delivered  him  his  commission,  in 
the  speech  he  made,  according  to  the  custom  on  such  occasions, 
he  expressed  his  esteem  of  him  in  a  very  singular  manner,  telling 
him,  among  other  things,  "  That  if  the  king  could  have  found  out 
an  honester  and  fitter  man  for  that  employment,  he  would  not 


SIR  MATTHEW   HALE.  549 

have  advanced  him  to  it;"  and  "that  he  had  therefore  preferred 
him,  because  he  knew  none  that  deserved  it  so  well."  It  is  ordi- 
nary for  persons  so  promoted  to  be  knighted,  but  he  desired  to 
avoid  having  that  honour  done  him,  and  therefore  for  a  consider- 
able time  declined  all  opportunities  of  waiting  on  the  king ;  which 
the  lord  chancellor  observing,  sent  for  him  upon  business  one  day, 
when  the  king  was  at  his  house,  and  told  his  majesty  there 
was  his  modest  chief  baron ;  upon  which  he  was  unexpectedly 
knighted. 

He  continued  eleven  years  in  that  place,  managing  the  court, 
and  all  proceedings  in  it,  with  singular  justice.  It  was  observed 
by  the  whole  nation,  how  much  he  raised  the  reputation  and  prac- 
tice of  it :  and  those  who  held  places,  and  offices  in  it>  can  all 
declare,  not  only  the  impartiality  of  his  justice,  for  that  is  but  a 
common  virtue,  but  his  generosity,  his  vast  diligence,  and  his 
great  exactness  in  trials.  This  gave  occasion  to  the  only  com- 
plaint that  ever  was  made  of  him,  that  he  did  not  dispatch  matters 
quick  enough ;  but  the  great  care  he  used,  to  put  suits  to  a  final 
end,  as  it  made  him  slower  in  deciding  them,  so  it  had  this  good 
effect,  that  causes  tried  before  him,  were  seldom,  if  ever  tried  again. 

Nor  did  his  administration  of  justice  lie  only  in  that  court.  He 
was  one  of  the  principal  judges  that  sat  in  Clifford  Vinn,  about 
settling  the  differences  between  landlord  and  tenant,  after  the 
dreadful  fire  of  London.  He  being  the  first  that  offered  his  ser- 
vice to  the  city,  for  accommodating  all  the  differences  that  might 
have  arisen  about  the  re-building  of  it,  in  which  he  behaved  him- 
self to  the  satisfaction  of  all  persons  concerned;  so  that  the 
sudden  and  quiet  building  of  the  city,  which  is  justly  to  be  reckoned 
one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age,  is  in  no  small  measure  due  to  the 
great  care,  which  he  and  sir  Orlando  Bridgeman  (then  lord  chief 
justice  of  the  common-pleas,  afterwards  lord  keeper  of  the  great 
seal  of  England)  used,  and  to  the  judgment  they  shewed  in  that 
affair :  since  without  the  rules  then  laid  down,  there  might  have 
otherwise  followed  such  an  endless  train  of  vexatious  suits,  as 
might  have  been  little  less  chargeable  than  the  fire  itself  had  been. 
But  without  detracting  from  the  labours  of  the  other  judges,  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that  he  was  the  most  instrumental  in  that 
great  work ;  for  he  first,  by  way  of  scheme,  contrived  the  rules, 
upon  which  he  and  the  rest  proceeded  afterwards ;  in  which  his 
readiness  at  arithmetic,  and  his  skill  in  architecture,  were  of  great 
use  to  him. 


550  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

But  it  will  not  seem  strange  that  a  judge  behaved  himself  as  he 
did,  who  at  the  entry  into  his  employment,  set  such  excellent  rules 
to  himself,  which  will  appear  in  the  following  paper,  copied  from 
the  original  under  his  own  hand. 

Things  necessary  to  be  continually  had  in  remembrance. 

I.  That  in  the  administration  of  justice,  I  am  entrusted  for  God,  the  king, 
and  country  ;  and  therefore, 

II.  That  it  be  done,  1.  Uprightly,  2.  Deliberately,  3.  Resolutely. 

III.  That  I  rest  not  upon  my  own  understanding  or  strength,  but  implore 
and  rest  upon  the  direction  and  strength  of  God. 

IV.  That  in  the  execution  of  justice,  I  carefully  lay  aside  my  own  passions, 
and  not  give  way  to  them,  however  provoked. 

V.  That  I  be  wholly  intent  upon  the  business  I  am  about,  remitting  all  other 
cares  and  thoughts,  as  unseasonable,  and  interruptions. 

VI.  That  I  suffer  not  myself  to  be  prepossessed  with  any  judgment  at  all, 
till  the  whole  business  and  both  parties  be  heard. 

VII.  That  I  never  engage  myself  in  the  beginning  of  any  cause,  but  reserve 
myself  unprejudiced  till  the  whole  be  heard. 

VIII.  That  in  business  capital,  though  my  nature  prompt  me  to  pity ;  yet  to 
consider  that  there  is  also  a  pity  due  to  the  country. 

IX.  That  I  be  not  too  rigid  in  matters  purely  conscientious,  where  all  the 
harm  is  diversity  of  judgment. 

X.  That  I  be  not  biassed  with  compassion  to  the  poor,  or  favour  to  the  rich, 
in  point  of  justice. 

XL  That  popular,  or  court-applause,  or  distaste,  have  no  influence  into  any 
thing  I  do  in  point  of  distribution  of  justice. 

XII.  Not  to  be  solicitous  what  men  will  say  or  think,  so  long  as  I  keep  my- 
self exactly  according  to  the  rules  of  justice. 

XIII.  If  in  criminals  it  be  a  measuring  cast,  to  incline  to  mercy  and  acquittal. 

XIV.  In  criminals  that  consist  merely  in  words,  when  no  more  harm  ensues, 
moderation  is  no  injustice. 

XV.  In  criminals  of  blood,  if  the  fact  be  evident,  severity  is  justice. 

XVI.  To  abhor  all  private  solicitations  of  what  kind  soever,  and  by  whom 
soever,  in  matters  depending. 

XVII.  To  charge  my  servants,  1 .  Not  to  interpose  in  any  business  whatsoever. 
2.  Not  to  take  more  than  their  known  fees.     3.  Not  to  give  any  undue 
precedence  to  causes.     4.  Not  to  recommend  counsel. 

XVIII.  To  be  short  and  sparing  at  meals,  that  I  may  be  the  fitter  for 
business. 

He  would  never  receive  private  addresses  or  recommendations 
from  the  greatest  persons  in  any  matter,  in  which  justice  was 
concerned.     One  of  the  first  peers  of  England  went  once  to 
his  chamber,  and  told  him,  "That  having  a  suit  in  law  to  1> 
tried  before  him,  he  was  then  to  acquaint  him  with  it,  that  h< 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  55i 

might  the  better  understand  it,  when  it  should  come  to  be  heard 
in  court."  Upon  which  the  lord  chief  baron  interrupted  him, 
and  said,  "  He  did  not  deal  fairly  to  come  to  his  chamber  about 
such  affairs,  for  he  never  received  any  information  of  causes  but 
in  open  court,  where  both  parties  were  to  be  heard  alike ;"  so  he 
would  not  suffer  him  to  go  on.  Whereupon  his  grace  (for  he 
was  a  duke)  went  away  not  a  little  dissatisfied,  and  complained  of 
it  to  the  king,  as  a  rudeness  that  was  not  to  be  endured.  But 
his  majesty  bid  him  content  himself  that  he  was  no  worse  used, 
and  said,  he  verily  believed  he  would  have  used  himself  no  better, 
if  he  had  gone  to  solicit  him  in  any  of  his  own  causes. 

Another  passage  fell  out  in  one  of  his  circuits,  which  was 
somewhat  censured  as  an  affectation  of  an  unreasonable  strict- 
ness ;  but  it  flowed  from  his  exactness  to  the  rules  he  had  set 
himself.  A  gentleman  had  sent  him  a  buck  for  his  table,  that 
had  a  trial  at  the  assizes  ;  so  when  he  heard  his  name,  he  asked 
if  he  was  not  the  same  person  that  had  sent  him  venison  ?  and 
finding  he  was  the  same,  he  told  him,  he  could  not  suffer  the 
trial  to  go  on,  till  he  had  paid  him  for  his  buck  :  to  which  the 
gentleman  answered,  that  he  never  sold  his  venison,  and  that  he 
had  done  nothing  to  him,  which  he  did  not  do  to  every  judge 
that  had  gone  that  circuit,  which  was  confirmed  by  several 
gentlemen  then  present :  but  all  would  not  do,  for  the  lord  chief 
baron  had  learned  from  Solomon,  that  a  gift  perverteth  the  ways 
of  judgment ;  and  therefore  he  would  not  suffer  the  trial  to  go 
on,  till  he  had  paid  for  the  present ;  upon  which  the  gentleman 
withdrew  the  record.  And  at  Salisbury,  the  dean  and  chapter 
having,  according  to  the  custom,  presented  him  with  six  sugar- 
loaves  in  his  circuit,  he  made  his  servants  pay  for  the  sugar 
before  he  would  try  their  cause. 

It  was  not  so  easy  for  him  to  throw  off  the  importunities  of 
the  poor,  for  whom  his  compassion  wrought  more  powerfully  than 
his  regard  to  wealth  and  greatness ;  yet  when  justice  was  con- 
cerned, even  that  did  not  turn  him  out  of  the  way.  There  was 
one  that  had  been  put  out  of  a  place  for  some  ill  behaviour,  who 
urged  the  lord  chief  baron  to  set  his  hand  to  a  certificate,  to 
restore  him  to  it,  or  provide  him  with  another  :  but  he  told  him 
plainly  his  fault  was  such,  that  he  could  not  do  it ;  the  other 
pressed  him  vehemently,  and  fell  down  on  his  knees,  and  begged 
it  of  him  with  many  tears ;  but  finding  that  could  not  prevail, 
he  said,  he  should  be  utterly  ruined  if  he  did  it  not ;  and  he 


552  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

should  curse  him  for  it  every  day.  But  that  having  no  effect, 
then  he  fell  out  into  all  the  reproachful  words,  that  passion  and 
despair  could  inspire  him  with ;  to  which  all  the  answer  the  lord 
chief  baron  made,  was,  that  he  could  very  well  bear  all  his 
reproaches ;  but  he  could  not  for  all  that  set  his  hand  to  his 
certificate.  He  saw  he  was  poor,  so  he  gave  him  a  large  charity, 
and  sent  him  away. 

But  now  he  was  to  go  on  after  his  pattern,  Pomponius  Atticus, 
still  to  favour  and  relieve  them  that  were  lowest.  So,  besides 
great  charities  to  the  nonconformists,  who  were  then,  as  he 
thought,  too  hardly  used ;  he  took  great  care  to  cover  them  all 
he  could,  from  the  severities  some  designed  against  them,  and 
discouraged2  those  who  were  inclined  to  stretch  the  laws  too 
much  against  them.  He  lamented  the  differences  that  were 
raised  in  this  church  very  much,  and  according  to  the  impar- 
tiality of  his  justice,  he  blamed  some  things  on  both  sides,  which 
I  shall  set  down  with  the  same  freedom  that  he  spake  them. 
He  thought  many  of  the  nonconformists  had  merited  highly  3  in 
the  business  of  the  king's  restoration,  and  at  least  deserved  that 
the  terms  of  conformity  should  not  have  been  made  stricter, 
than  they  were  before  the  war.  There  was  not  then  that  dreadful 
prospect  of  popery,  that  has  appeared  since.  But  that  which 
afflicted  him  most,  was,  that  he  saw  the  heats  and  contentions 
which  followed  upon  those  different  parties  and  interests,  did 
take  people  off  from  the  indispensable  things  of  religion,  and 

2  And  discouraged. ~\  "When  I  went  out  of  the  house,"  (says  Richard 
Baxter,  in  the  letter  to  Mr.  Stephens,  above  referred  to)  "  in  which  he  suc- 
ceeded me,  I  went  into  a  greater  over  against  the  church  door.  The  town 
having  great  need  of  help  for  their  souls,  I  preached,  between  the  public  ser- 
mons, in  my  house,  taking  the  people  with  me  to  the  church  (to  common 
prayer  and  sermon)  morning  and  evening,  The  judge  told  me,  that  he 
thought  my  course  did  the  church  much  service;  and  would  carry  it  so 
respectfully  to  me  at  my  door,  that  all  the  people  might  perceive  his  appro- 
bation. But  Dr.  Reeves"  (the  rector  of  the  parish,  which  was  Acton) 
"  could  not  bear  it,  but  complained  against  me :  and  the  bishop  of  London 
caused  one  Mr.  Rosse,  of  Brainford,  and  Mr.  Philips,  two  justices  of  the 
peace,  to  send  their  warrants  to  apprehend  me.  I  told  the  judge  of  the  war- 
rant, but  asked  him  no  counsel,  nor  he  gave  me  none  ;  but  with  tears  showed 
his  sorrow  (the  only  time  that  ever  I  saw  him  weep).  So  I  was  sent  to  the 
common  gaol  for  six  months,  by  these  two  justices."  Moral,  tyc.  Works  of 
Sir  Mat.  Hale,  vol.  i.  p.  105. 

8  Merited  highly.']  See  Baxter's  Narrative  of  his  L\fe  and  Times,  part  i. 
p.  105,  214,  &c. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  553 

slackened  the  zeal  of  (otherwise)  good  men  for  the  substance  of 
it,  so  much  being  spent  about  external  and  indifferent  things. 
It  also  gave  advantages  to  atheists,  to  treat  the  most  sacred 
points  of  our  holy  faith  as  ridiculous,  when  they  saw  the  pro- 
fessors of  it  contend  so  fiercely,  and  with  such  bitterness,  about 
lesser  matters.  He  was  much  offended  at  all  those  books  *  that 
were  written,  to  expose  the  contrary  sect  to  the  scorn  and  con- 
tempt of  the  age,  in  a  wanton  and  petulant  style.  He  thought 
such  writers  wounded  the  Christian  religion  through  the  sides 
of  those  who  differed  from  them ;  while  a  sort  of  lewd  people, 
who  having  assumed  to  themselves  the  title  of  the  wits  (though 
but  a  very  few  of  them  have  a  right  to  it)  took  up  from  both 
hands  what  they  had  said  to  make  one  another  shew  ridiculous, 
and  from  thence  persuaded  the  world  to  laugh  at  both,  and  at  all 
religion  for  their  sakes.  And  therefore  he  often  wished  there 
might  be  some  law,  to  make  all  scurrility  or  bitterness  in  dis- 
putes about  religion  punishable.  But  as  he  lamented  the  pro- 
ceeding too  rigorously  against  the  nonconformists,  so  he  declared 
himself  always  of  the  side  of  the  church  of  England ;  and  said 
those  of  the  separation  were  good  men,  but  they  had  narrow  souls, 
who  would  break  the  peace  of  the  church,  about  such  inconsider- 
able matters,  as  the  points  in  difference  were. 

He  scarce  ever  meddled  in  state  intrigues ;  yet  upon  a  pro- 
position that  was  set  on  foot  by  the  lord  keeper  Bridgeman,  for 
a  comprehension  5  of  the  more  moderate  dissenters,  and  a  limited 
indulgence  towards  such  as  could  not  be  brought  within  the 
comprehension,  he  dispensed  with  his  maxim,  of  avoiding  to 
engage  in  matters  of  state.  There  were  several  meetings  upon 
that  occasion.  The  divine  of  the  church  of  England,  that  appeared 
most  considerably  for  it,  was  Dr.  Wilkins,  afterwards  promoted 
to  the  bishopric  of  Chester,  a  man  of  as  great  a  mind,  as  true  a 
judgment,  as  eminent  virtues,  and  of  as  good  a  soul,  as  any  I 
ever  knew.  He  being  determined  as  well  by  his  excellent  temper, 

4  All  those  books  ]  "  He  had  a  great  distaste  "  (Baxter  assures  us)  "of  the 
books  called  A  Friendly  Debate,  &c."  (the  work,  and  of  great  value,  of 
Patrick,  afterwards  bishop  of  Ely)  "  and  Ecclesiastical  Polity,"  (written  by 
Mr.  Samuel  Parker,  then  chaplain  to  archbishop  Sheldon,  and  who  after- 
wards became  a  papist,  and  was  made  bishop  of  Oxford,  &c.  by  James  II.) 
Letter  to  Mr.  Stephens,  in  Hale's  Moral,  6fc.  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  111. 

5  For  a  comprehension.']  Compare  Baxter's  Life  and  Times,  part  2.  p.  433, 
&c.     Part  3.  p.  24,  &c.  p.  100.  p.  157,  &c.     Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson,  p.  42, 
&c.  52,  &c.  and  193,  &c. 


554  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

as  by  his  foresight  and  prudence,  by  which  he  early  perceived  the 
great  prejudices  that  religion  received,  and  the  vast  dangers  the 
reformation  was  like  to  fall  under  by  those  divisions ;  set  about 
that  project  with  the  magnanimity  that  was  indeed  peculiar 
to  himself;  for  though  he  was  much  censured  by  many  of  his 
own  side,  and  seconded  by  very  few,  yet  he  pushed  it  as  far  as 
he  could.  After  several  conferences  with  two  of  the  eminentest 
of  the  presbyterian  divines,  heads  were  agreed  on,  some  abate- 
ments were  to  be  made,  and  explanations  were  to  be  accepted  of. 
The  particulars  of  that  project  being  thus  concerted,  they  were 
brought  to  the  lord  chief  baron,  who  put  them  in  form  of  a  bill, 
to  be  presented  to  the  next  sessions  of  parliament. 

But  two  parties  appeared  vigorously  against  this  design  ;  the 
one  was  of  some  zealous  clergymen,  who  thought  it  below  the 
dignity  of  the  church  to  alter  laws,  and  change  settlements,  for 
the  sake  of  some  whom  they  esteemed  schismatics.  They  also 
believed,  it  was  better  to  keep  them  out  of  the  church,  than 
bring  them  into  it,  since  a  faction  upon  that  would  arise  in  the 
church,  which  they  thought  might  be  more  dangerous  than  the 
schism  itself  was.  Besides  they  said  if  some  things  were  now 
to  be  changed  in  compliance  with  the  humour  of  a  party  as  soon 
as  that  was  done,  another  party  might  demand  other  concessions, 
and  there  might  be  as  good  reasons  invented  for  these  as  for 
those.  Many  such  concessions  might  also  shake  those  of  our 
own  communion  and  tempt  them  to  forsake  us,  and  go  over  to 
the  church  of  Rome,  pretending  that  we  changed  so  often,  that 
they  were  thereby  inclined  to  be  of  a  church  that  was  constant 
and  true  to  herself.  These  were  the  reasons  brought  and  chiefly 
insisted  on  against  all  comprehension ;  and  they  wrought  upon 
the  greater  part  of  the  house  of  commons,  so  that  they  passed  a 
vote  against  the  receiving  of  any  bill  for  that  effect. 

There  were  others  that  opposed  it  upon  very  different  ends : 
they  designed  to  shelter  the  papists  from  the  execution  of  the 
law  and  saw  clearly  that  nothing  could  bring  in  popery  so  well 
as  a  toleration.     But  to  tolerate  popery  bare-faced,  would  ha\v 
startled  the  nation  too  much  ;  so  it  was  necessary  to  hinder  all 
the  propositions  for  union,  since  the  keeping  up  the  differ* 
was  the  best  colour  they  could  find  for  getting  the  toleration  to 
pass,   only  as  a  slackening  the  laws  against  dissenters,  u 
numbers  and  wealth  made  it  adviseable  to  have  some  regard  t«> 
them  ;  and  under  this  pretence  popery  might  have  crept  in  more 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  555 

covered,  and  less  regarded.  So  these  counsels  being  more 
acceptable  to  some  concealed  papists  then  in  great  power,  as  has 
since  appeared  but  too  evidently,  the  whole  project  for  compre- 
hension was  let  fall,  and  those  who  had  set  it  on  foot,  came  to  be 
looked  on  with  an  ill  eye,  as  secret  favourers  of  the  dissenters, 
underminers  of  the  church,  and  every  thing  else  that  jealousy  and 
distaste  could  cast  on  them. 

But  upon  this  occasion  the  lord  chief  baron,  and  Dr.  Wilkins, 
came  to  contract  a  firm  and  familiar  friendship  ;  and  the  lord 
chief  baron  having  much  business,  and  little  time  to  spare,  did  to 
enjoy  the  other  the  more,  what  he  had  scarce  ever  done  before, 
he  went  sometimes  to  dine  with  him.  And  though  he  lived  in 
great  friendship  with  some  other  eminent  clergymen,  as  Dr. 
Ward,  bishop  of  Salisbury ;  Dr.  Barlow,  bishop  of  Lincoln ;  Dr. 
Barrow,  late  master  of  Trinity  college ;  Dr.  Tillotson,  dean  of 
Canterbury ;  and  Dr.  Stillingfleet,  dean  of  St.  Paul's,  (men  so 
well  known,  and  so  much  esteemed,  that  as  it  was  no  wonder  the 
lord  chief  baron  valued  their  conversation  highly,  so  those  of 
them  that  are  yet  alive  will  think  it  no  lessening  of  the  character 
they  are  so  deservedly  in,  that  they  are  reckoned  among  judge 
Hale's  friends)  yet  there  was  an  intimacy  and  freedom  in  his  con- 
verse with  bishop  Wilkins,  that  was  singular  to  him  alone.  He 
had  during  the  late  wars,  lived  in  a  long  and  entire  friendship 
with  the  apostolical  primate  of  Ireland,  bishop  Usher ;  their 
curious  searches  into  antiquity,  and  the  sympathy  of  both  their 
tempers  led  them  to  a  great  agreement  almost  in  every  thing. 
He  held  also  great  conversation  with  Mr.  Baxter,  who  was  his 
neighbour  at  Acton,  on  whom  he  looked  as  a  person  of  great 
devotion  and  piety,  and  of  a  very  subtile  and  quick  apprehension  : 
their  conversation  lay  most  in  metaphysical  and  abstracted  ideas 
and  schemes. 

He  looked  with  great  sorrow  on  the  impiety  and  atheism  of  the 
age,  and  so  he  set  himself  to  oppose  it,  not  only  by  the  shining 
example  of  his  own  life,  but  by  engaging  in  a  cause,  that  indeed 
could  hardly  fall  into  better  hands :  and  as  he  could  not  find  a 
subject  more  worthy  of  himself,  so  there  were  few  in  the  age  that 
understood  it  so  well,  and  could  manage  it  more  skilfully.  The 
occasion  that  first  led  him  to  write  about  it  was  this.  He  was 
a  strict  observer  of  the  Lord's  day,  in  which,  besides  his  con- 
stancy in  the  public  worship  of  God,  he  used  to  call  all  his  family 
together,  and  repeat  to  them  the  heads  of  the  sermons,  with  some 


556  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

additions  of  his  own,  which  he  fitted  for  their  capacities  and  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  that  being  done,  he  had  a  custom  of  shutting 
himself  up  for  two  or  three  hours,  which  he  either  spent  in  his 
secret  devotions,  or  on  such  profitable  meditations  as  did  then 
occur  to  his  thoughts :  he  writ  them  with  the  same  simplicity  that 
he  formed  them  in  his  mind,  without  any  art,  or  so  much  as  a 
thought  to  let  them  be  published :  he  never  corrected  them,  but 
laid  them  by,  when  he  had  finished  them,  having  intended  only  to 
fix  and  preserve  his  own  reflections  in  them ;  so  that  he  used  no 
sort  of  care  to  polish  them,  or  make  the  first  draught  perfecter 
than  when  they  fell  from  his  pen.  These  fell  into  the  hands  of  a 
worthy  person,  and  he  judging,  as  well  he  might,  that  the  com- 
municating them  to  the  world  might  be  a  publick  service,  printed 
two  volumes  of  them  in  octavo  a  little  before  the  authors  death. 
containing  his 

CONTEMPLATIONS. 

I.  Of  our  latter  end. 
II.  Of  wisdom  and  the  fear  of  God. 

III.  Of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  crucified. 

IV.  The  victory  of  faith  over  the  world. 
V.  Of  humility. 

VI.  Jacob's  vow. 
VII.  Of  contentation. 

VIII.  Of  afflictions. 

IX.  A  good  method  to  entertain  unstable  and  troublesome  times. 
X.  Changes  and  troubles  :  a  poem. 
XI.  Of  the  redemption  of  time. 
XII.  The  great  audit. 

XIII.  Directions  touching  keeping  the  Lord's  day :  in  a  letter  to  his  children. 

XIV.  Poems  written  upon  Christmas  day. 

In  the  second  volume. 

I.  An  enquiry  touching  happiness. 
II.  Of  the  chief  end  of  man. 

III.  Upon  Eccles.  12.  1.  Remember  thy  Creator. 

IV.  Upon  the  51  Psalm,  v.  10.  Create  a  clean  heart  in  me  :  with  a  poem. 
V.  The  folly  and  mischief  of  sin. 

VI.  Of  self-denial. 

VII.  Motives  to  watchfulness,  in  reference  to  the  good  and  evil  angels. 
VIII.  Of  moderation  of  the  affections. 

IX.  Of  worldly  hope  and  expectation. 

\     I  'pon  13  Heb.  14.  We  have  here  no  continuing  city. 
XI.  Of  contentedness  and  patience. 
XII.  Of  moderation  of  anger. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  557 

XIII.  A  preparative  against  afflictions. 

XIV.  Of  submission,  prayer,  and  thanksgiving. 
XV.  Of  prayer  and  thanksgiving,  on  Psal.  116.  12. 

XVI.  Meditations  on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  with  a  paraphrase  upon  it. 

In  them  there  appears  a  generous  and  true  spirit  of  religion, 
mixed  with  most  serious  and  fervent  devotion  ;  and  perhaps  with 
the  more  advantage,  that  the  stile  wants  some  correction,  which 
shews  they  were  the  genuine  production  of  an  excellent  mind, 
entertaining  itself  in  secret  with  such  contemplations.  The  stile 
is  clear  and  masculine,  in  a  due  temper  between  flatness  and 
affectation,  in  which  he  expresses  his  thoughts  both  easily  and 
decently. 

In  writing  these  discourses,  having  run  over  most  of  the  sub- 
jects that  his  own  circumstances  led  him  chiefly  to  consider,  he 
began  to  be  in  some  pain  to  choose  new  arguments ;  and  there- 
fore resolved  to  fix  on  a  theme  that  should  hold  him  longer. 

He  was  soon  determined  in  his  choice,  by  the  immoral  and  irre- 
ligious principles  and  practices  that  had  so  long  vexed  his  righ- 
teous soul,  and  therefore  began  a  great  design  against  atheism, 
the  first  part  of  which  is  only  printed,  of  the  Origination  of  Man- 
kind 6,  designed  to  prove  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  the  truth 
of  the  Mosaical  history. 

The  second  part  was  of  the  nature  of  the  soul,  and  of  a  future 
state. 

The  third  part  was  concerning  the  attributes  of  God,  both  from 
the  abstracted  ideas  of  him,  and  the  light  of  nature  ;  the  evi- 
dence of  Providence ;  the  notions  of  morality,  and  the  voice  of 
conscience. 

And  the  fourth  part  was  concerning  the  truth  and  authority  of 
the  Scriptures,  with  answers  to  the  objections  against  them.  On 
writing  these,  he  spent  seven  years.  He  wrote  them  with  so 
much  consideration,  that  one  who  perused  the  original  under  his 
own  hand,  which  was  the  first  draught  of  it,  told  me,  he  did  not 
remember  of  any  considerable  alteration ;  perhaps  not  of  twenty 
words  in  the  whole  work. 

The  way   of  his  writing  them,  only  on   the  evenings  of  the 

6  Origination  of  mankind."]  A  copy  of  the  second  part  of  this  work,  still 
unpublished,  intitled  "  Liber  secundus  de  homine:  de  hominis  secunda  origina- 
tions sive  generations,"  is  amongst  the  manuscripts  in  the  British  Museum. 
It  is  written  partly  in  English,  partly  in  Latin. 


558  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

LordVday,  when  he  was  in  town,  and  not  much  oftener  when  he 
was  in  the  country,  made,  that  they  are  not  so  contracted,  as  it  is 
very  likely  he  would  have  writ  them,  if  he  had  been  more  at 
leisure  to  have  brought  his  thoughts  into  a  narrower  compass, 
and  fewer  words. 

But  making  some  allowance  for  the  largeness  of  the  stile,  that 
volume  that  is  printed,  is  generally  acknowledged  to  be  one  of  the 
perfectest  pieces,  both  of  learning  and  reasoning,  that  has  been 
writ  on  that  subject :  and  he  who  read  a  great  part  of  the  other 
volumes,  told  me,  they  were  all  of  a  piece  with  the  first. 

When  he  had  finished  this  work  he  sent  it  by  an  unknown 
hand  to  bishop  Wilkins,  to  desire  his  judgment  of  it ;  but  he 
that  brought  it,  would  give  no  other  account  of  the  author,  but 
that  he  was  not  a  clergyman.  The  bishop,  and  his  worthy  friend 
Dr.  Tillotson,  read  a  great  deal  of  it  with  much  pleasure,  but 
could  not  imagine  who  could  be  the  author ;  and  how  a  man  that 
was  master  of  so  much  reason,  and  so  great  a  variety  of  know- 
ledge, should  be  so  unknown  to  them,  that  they  could  not  find 
him  out,  by  those  characters,  which  are  so  little  common.  At 
last  Dr.  Tillotson  guessed  it  must  be  the  lord  chief  baron  ;  to 
which  the  other  presently  agreed,  wondering  he  had  been  so  long 
in  finding  it  out.  So  they  went  immediately  to  him,  and  the 
bishop  thanking  him  for  the  entertainment  he  had  received  from 
his  works,  he  blushed  extremely,  not  without  some  displeasure, 
apprehending  that  the  person  he  had  trusted  had  discovered  him. 
But  the  bishop  soon  cleared  that,  and  told  him,  he  had  discovered 
himself ;  for  the  learning  of  that  book  was  so  various,  that  none 
but  he  could  be  the  author  of  it.  And  that  bishop  having  a 
freedom  in  delivering  his  opinion  of  things  and  persons,  which 
perhaps  few  ever  managed,  both  with  so  much  plainness  and  pru- 
dence, told  him,  there  was  nothing  could  be  better  said  on  t! 
arguments,  if  he  could  bring  it  into  a  less  compass ;  but  if  he  li.id 
not  leisure  for  that,  he  thought  it  much  better  to  have  it  come 
out,  though  a  little  too  large,  than  that  the  world  should  be  de- 
prived of  the  good  which  it  must  needs  do.  But  our  judge  had 
never  the  opportunities  of  revising  it ;  so,  a  little  before  his 
death,  he  sent  the  first  part  of  it  to  the  press. 

In  the  beginning  of  it,  he  gives  an  essay  of  his  excellent  way  of 
methodizing  things;  in  which  he  was  so  great  a  master,  that 
whatever  he  undertook,  he  would  presently  cast  into  so  perfect  a 
scheme,  that  he  could  never  afterwards  correct  it.  lie  runs  out 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  559 

copiously  upon  the  argument  of  the  impossibility  of  an  eternal 
succession  of  time,  to  shew  that  time  and  eternity  are  inconsistent 
one  with  another ;  and  that  therefore  all  duration  that  was  past, 
and  defined  by  time,  could  not  be  from  eternity  ;  and  he  shews 
the  difference  between  successive  eternity  already  past,  and  one 
to  come  ;  so  that  though  the  latter  is  possible,  the  former  is  not 
so ;  for  all  the  parts  of  the  former  have  actually  been ;  and  there- 
fore being  defined  by  time,  cannot  be  eternal ;  whereas  the  other 
are  still  future  to  all  eternity  ;  so  that  this  reasoning  cannot  be 
turned  to  prove  the  possibility  of  eternal  successions  that  have 
been,  as  well  as  eternal  successions  that  shall  be.  This  he  fol- 
lows with  a  strength  I  never  met  with  in  any  that  managed  it 
before  him. 

He  brings  next  all  those  moral  arguments,  to  prove,  that  the 
world  had  a  beginning,  agreeing  to  the  account  Moses  gives  of 
it ;  as  that  no  history  rises  higher,  than  near  the  time  of  the 
deluge ;  and  that  the  first  foundation  of  kingdoms,  the  invention 
of  arts,  the  beginnings  of  all  religions,  the  gradual  plantation  of 
the  world,  and  increase  of  mankind,  and  the  consent  of  nations 
do  agree  with  it.  In  managing  these,  as  he  shews  profound  skill 
both  in  historical  and  philosophical  learning :  so  he  gives  a  noble 
discovery  of  his  great  candour  and  probity,  that  he  would  not 
impose  on  the  reader  with  a  false  shew  of  reasoning  by  argu- 
ments, that  he  knew  had  flaws  in  them;  and  therefore  upon 
every  one  of  these,  he  adds  such  allays,  as  in  a  great  measure 
lessened  and  took  off  their  force,  with  as  much  exactness  of  judg- 
ment, and  strictness  of  censure,  as  if  he  had  been  set  to  plead 
for  the  other  side :  and  indeed  sums  up  the  whole  evidence  for 
religion,  as  impartially  as  ever  he  did  in  a  trial  for  life  or  death  to 
the  jury ;  which  how  equally  and  judicially  he  always  did,  the 
whole  nation  well  knows. 

After  that,  he  examines  the  ancient  opinions  of  the  philoso- 
phers, and  enlarges  with  a  great  variety  of  curious  reflections 
in  answering  that  only  argument,  that  has  any  appearance  of 
strength  for  the  casual  production  of  man,  from  the  origination 
of  insects  out  of  putrified  matter,  as  is  commonly  supposed  ;  and 
he  concluded  the  book,  shewing  how  rational  and  philosophical 
the  account  which  Moses  gives  of  it  is.  There  is  in  it  all  a  saga- 
city and  quickness  of  thought,  mixed  with  great  and  curious 
learning,  that  I  confess  I  never  met  together  in  any  other  book 
on  that  subject.  Among  other  conjectures,  one  he  gives  con- 


560  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

cerning  the  deluge,  is,  that  "  he  did  not  think  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  the  waters,  were  altogether  the  same  before  the  uni- 
versal deluge,  and  after  :  but  possibly  the  face  of  the  earth  was 
more  even  than  now  it  is :  the  seas  possibly  more  dilated  and  ex- 
tended, and  not  so  deep  as  now."  And  a  little  after,  "  possibly 
the  seas  have  undermined  much  of  the  appearing  continent  of 
earth."  This  I  the  rather  take  notice  of,  because  it  hath  been, 
since  his  death,  made  out  in  a  most  ingenious,  and  most  elegantly 
written  book,  by  Mr.  Burnet,  of  Chrises  college,  in  Cambridge! 
who  has  given  such  an  essay  towards  the  proving  the  possibility 
of  an  universal  deluge  :  and  from  thence  has  collected,  with  great 
sagacity,  what  paradise  was  before  it,  as  has  not  been  offered  by 
any  philosopher  before  him. 

While  the  judge  was  thus  employing  his  time,  the  lord  chid' 
justice  Keyling  dying,  he  was  on  the  18th  of  May,  1671,  pro- 
moted to  be  lord  chief  justice  of  England.     He  had  made  the 
pleas  of  the  crown  one  of  his  chief  studies,  and  by  much  search, 
and  long  observation,  had  composed  that  great  work  concerning 
them,  formerly  mentioned ;  he  that  holds  the  high  office  of  justi- 
ciary in  that  court,  being  the  chief  trustee  and  assertor  of  the 
liberties  of  his  country.     All  people  applauded  this  choice,  and 
thought  their  liberties  could  not  be  better  deposited,  than  in  the 
hands  of  one,  that  as  he  understood  them  well,  so  he  had  all  the 
justice  and  courage  that  so  sacred  a  trust  required.     One  thing 
was  much  observed  and  commended  in  him,  that  when  there  was 
a  great  inequality  in  the  ability  and  learning  of  the  counsellors 
that  were  to  plead  one  against  another;  he  thought  it  became 
him,  as  the  judge,  to  supply  that ;  so  he  would  enforce  what  the 
weaker  counsel  managed  but  indifferently,  and  not  suffer  the  more 
learned  to  carry  the  business  by  the  advantage  they  had  over  the 
others,  in  their  quickness  and  skill  in  law,  and  readiness  in  plead- 
ing till  all  things  were  cleared,  in  which  the  merits  and  strci 
of  the  ill-defended  cause  lay.     He  was  not  satisfied  barely  to 
his  judgment  in  causes ;   out  did,  especially  in  all  intricate  « 
give  such  an  account  of  the  reasons  that  prevailed  with  him,  that 
the  counsel  did  not  only  acquiesce  in  his  authority,  but  wer 
convinced  by  his  reasons,  that  I  have  heard  many  profess  tli 
brought  them  often  to  change  their  opinions;  so  that  his  giving 
of  judgment  was  really  a  learned  lecture  upon  that  point  of  law  : 
and  which  was  yet  more,  the  parties  themselves,  though  int 
does  too  commonly  corrupt  the  judgment,  were  generally  >at  i 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  561 

with  the  justice  of  his  decisions,  even  when  they  were  made 
against  them.  His  impartial  justice,  and  great  diligence,  drew 
the  chief  practice  after  him,  into  whatsoever  court  he  came. 
Since,  though  the  courts  of  the  Common  Pleas,  the  Exchequer, 
and  the  King^s  Bench,  are  appointed  for  the  trial  of  causes  of 
different  natures,  yet  it  is  easy  to  bring  most  causes  into  any  of 
them,  as  the  counsel  or  attornies  please  ;  so,  as  he  had  drawn  the 
business  much  after  him,  both  into  the  Common  Pleas,  and  the 
Exchequer,  it  now  followed  him  into  the  King's  Bench;  and 
many  causes  that  were  depending  in  the  Exchequer,  and  not  de- 
termined, were  let  fall  there,  and  brought  again  before  him  in  the 
court,  to  which  he  was  now  removed.  And  here  did  he  spend 
the  rest  of  his  public  life  and  employment. 

But  about  four  years  and  a  half  after  this  advancement,  he  who 
had  hitherto  enjoyed  a  firm  and  vigorous  health,  to  which  his 
great  temperance,  and  the  equality  of  his  mind,  did  not  a  little 
conduce,  was  on  a  sudden  brought  very  low  by  an  inflammation 
in  his  midriff,  which  in  two  days  time  broke  the  constitution  of 
his  health  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  never  recovered  it.  He 
became  so  asthmatical,  that  with  great  difficulty  he  could  fetch 
his  breath,  that  determined  in  a  dropsy,  of  which  he  afterwards 
died.  He  understood  physic  so  well,  that  considering  his  age,  he 
concluded  his  distemper  must  carry  him  off  in  a  little  time,  and 
therefore  he  resolved  to  have  some  of  the  last  months  of  his  life 
reserved  to  himself,  that  being  freed  of  all  worldly  cares,  he  might 
be  preparing  for  his  change.  He  was  also  so  much  disabled  in 
his  body,  that  he  could  hardly,  though  supported  by  his  servants, 
walk  through  Westminster  Hall,  or  endure  the  toil  of  business. 
He  had  been  a  long  time  wearied  with  the  distractions  that  his 
employment  had  brought  on  him,  and  his  profession  was  become 
ungrateful  to  him.  He  loved  to  apply  himself  wholly  to  better 
purposes,  as  will  appear  by  a  paper  that  he  writ  on  this  subject, 
which  I  shall  here  insert. 

"  First,  If  I  consider  the  business  of  my  profession,  whether  as  an  advo- 
cate, or  as  a  judge,  it  is  true,  I  do  acknowledge  by  the  institution  of  almighty 
God,  and  the  dispensation  of  his  providence,  I  am  bound  to  industry  and 
fidelity  in  it :  and  as  it  is  an  act  of  obedience  unto  his  will,  it  carries  with  it 
some  things  of  religious  duty,  and  I  may  and  do  take  comfort  in  it,  and  ex- 
pect a  reward  of  my  obedience  to  him,  and  the  good  that  I  do  to  mankind 
therein,  from  the  bounty  and  beneficence,  and  promise  of  almighty  God  j 
and  it  is  true  also,  that  without  such  employments,  civil  societies  cannot  be 
supported,  and  great  good  redounds  to  mankind  from  them  j  and  in  these 
VOL.  IV.  O  O 


562  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

respects,  the  conscience  of  my  own  industry,  fidelity,  and  integrity  in  them, 
is  a  great  comfort  and  satisfaction  to  me.  But  yet  this  I  must  say  concerning 
these  employments,  considered  simply  in  themselves,  that  they  are  very  full 
of  cares,  anxieties,  and  perturbations. 

"  Secondly,  That  though  they  are  beneficial  to  others,  yet  they  are  of  the 
least  benefit  to  him  that  is  employed  in  them. 

"  Thirdly,  That  they  do  necessarily  involve  the  party,  whose  office  it  is,  in 
great  dangers,  difficulties,  and  calumnies. 

"  Fourthly,  That  they  only  serve  for  the  meridian  of  this  life,  which  is 
short  and  uncertain. 

"  Fifthly,  That  though  it  be  my  duty,  faithfully  to  serve  in  them,  while  I 
am  called  to  them,  and  till  I  am  duly  called  from  them,  yet  they  are  great 
consumers  of  that  little  time  we  have  here ;  which,  as  it  seems  to  me,  might 
be  better  spent  in  a  pious  contemplative  life,  and  a  due  provision  for  eternity. 
I  do  not  know  a  better  temporal  employment  than  Martha  had,  in  testifying 
her  love  and  duty  to  our  Saviour,  by  making  provision  for  him ;  yet  our  Lord 
tells  her,  That  though  she  was  troubled  about  many  things,  there  was  only  one 
thing  necessary,  and  Mary  had  chosen  the  better  part." 

By  this  the  reader  will  see,  that  he  continued  in  his  station 
upon  no  other  consideration,  but  that  being  set  in  it  by  the  pro- 
vidence of  God,  he  judged  he  could  not  abandon  that  post  which 
was  assigned  him  without  preferring  his  own  private  inclination 
to  the  choice  God  had  made  for  him ;  but  now  that  same  provi- 
dence having  by  this  great  distemper  disengaged  him  from  the 
obligation  of  holding  a  place,  which  he  was  no  longer  able  to  dis- 
charge, he  resolved  to  resign  it.  This  was  no  sooner  surmised 
abroad,  than  it  drew  upon  him  the  importunities  of  all  his  friends, 
and  the  clamour  of  the  whole  town  to  divert  him  from  it ;  but  all 
was  to  no  purpose ;  there  was  but  one  argument  that  could  move 
him,  which  was,  "  That  he  was  obliged  to  continue  in  the  employ- 
ment God  had  put  him  in  for  the  good  of  the  public/'1  But  to 
this  he  had  such  an  answer,  that  even  those  who  were  most  con- 
cerned in  his  withdrawing,  could  not  but  see,  that  the  rea- 
inducing  him  to  it,  were  but  too  strong.  So  he  made  applications 
to  his  majesty  for  his  writ  of  ease,  which  the  king  was  very  un- 
willing to  grant  him,  and  offered  to  let  him  hold  his  place  still. 
he  doing  what  business  he  could  in  his  chamber;  but  he  said,  ho 
could  not  with  a  good  conscience  continue  in  it,  since  he  was  no 
longer  able  to  discharge  the  duty  belonging  to  it. 

But  yet  such  was  the  general  satisfaction  which  all  the  kingdom 
received  by  his  excellent  administration  of  justice,  th.-it  the  kin-_r. 
though  he  could  not  well  deny  his  request,  yet  he  deferred  the 
granting  of  it  as  long  as  was  possible:  nor  could  the  lord  chnn- 


SIR  MA1THEW  HALE.  563 

cellor  be  prevailed  with  to  move  the  king  to  hasten  his  discharge 
though  the  chief  justice  often  pressed  him  to  it. 

At  last  having  wearied  himself,  and  all  his  friends,  with  his 
importunate  desires ;  and  growing  sensibly  weaker  in  body,  he 
did  upon  the  21st  day  of  February,  28  Car.  2.  anno  dom.  1675,  6, 
go  before  a  iriaster  of  the  chancery,  with  a  little  parchment  deed, 
drawn  by  himself  and  written  all  with  his  own  hand,  and  there 
sealed  and  delivered  it,  and  acknowledged  it  to  be  enrolled  ;  and 
afterwards  he  brought  the  original  deed  to  the  lord  chancellor, 
and  did  formally  surrender  his  office  in  these  words : 

"  Omnibus  Christ!  fidelibus  ad  quos  prsesens  scriptura  pervenerit,  Mat- 
thseus  Hale,  miles,  capitalis  justiciarius  domini  regis  ad  placita  coram  ipso 
rege  tenenda  assignatus,  salutem  in  Domino  sempiternam.  Noveritis  me 
prsefatum  Matthaeum  Hale,  militem,  jam  senem  factum,  et  variis  corporis 
mei  senilis  morbis  et  infirmitatibus  dire  laborantem,  et  adhuc  detentum,  hac 
charta  mea  resignare  et  sursum  reddere  serenissimo  domino  nostro  Carolo 
secundo  Dei  gratia  Angliae,  Scotiae,  Franciae  et  Hiberniae,  regi,  fidei  defen- 
sori,  &c.  predictum  officium  capitalis  justiciarii  ad  placita  coram  ipso  rege 
tenenda,  humillime  petens  quod  hoc  scriptum  irrotaletur  de  recordo.  In 
cujus  rei  testimoniurn  huic  chartae  mese  resignationis  sigillum  meum  apposui. 
Dat.  vicesimo  primo  die  Februarii  anno  regni  diet.  dom.  regis  nunc  vicesimo 
octavo." 

He  made  this  instrument,  as  he  told  the  lord  chancellor,  for 
two  ends ;  the  one  was  to  shew  the  world  his  own  free  concurrence 
to  his  removal :  another  was  to  obviate  an  objection  heretofore 
made,  that  a  chief  justice,  being  placed  by  writ,  was  not  removable 
at  pleasure',  as  judges,  by  patent  were ;  which  opinion,  as  he  said, 
was  once  held  by  his  predecessor  the  lord  chief  justice  Keyling ; 
and  though  he  himself  were  always  of  another  opinion,  yet  he 
thought  it  reasonable  to  prevent  such  a  scruple. 

He  had  the  day  before  surrendered  to  the  king  in  person,  who 
parted  from  him  with  great  grace,  wishing  him  most  heartily  the 
return  of  his  health ;  and  assuring  him,  "  That  he  would  still 
look  upon  him  as  one  of  his  judges,  and  have  recourse  to  his 
advice  when  his  health  would  permit :  and  in  the  mean  time 
would  continue  his  pension  during  his  life." 

The  good  man  thought  this  bounty  too  great,  and  an  ill  pre- 
cedent for  the  king ;  and  therefore  wrote  a  letter  to  the  lord 
treasurer,  earnestly  desiring,  that  his  pension  might  be  only 
during  pleasure 7;  but  the  king  would  grant  it  for  life,  and  make 
it  payable  quarterly. 

7  Only  during  pleasure.']  And  yet,  may  we  not  say,  in  the  words  of  bishop 

O  o  2 


564  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

And  yet,  for  a  whole  month  together,  he  would  not  suffer  his 
servant  to  sue  out  his  patent  for  his  pension  ;  and  when  the  first 
payment  was  received,  he  ordered  a  great  part  of  it  to  charitable 
uses ;  and  said,  he  intended  most  of  it  should  be  so  employed  as 
long  as  it  was  paid  him. 

At  last  he  happened  to  die  upon  the  quarter-day,  which  was 
Christmas  day ;  and  though  this  might  have  given  some  occasion 
to  a  dispute,  whether  the  pension  for  that  quarter  were  recover- 
able, yet  the  king  was  pleased  to  decide  that  matter  against  him- 
self, and  ordered  the  pension  to  be  paid  to  his  executors. 

As  soon  as  he  was  discharged  from  his  great  place,  he  returned 
home  with  as  much  cheerfulness,  as  his  want  of  health  could 
admit  of,  being  now  eased  of  a  burthen  he  had  been  of  late 
groaning  under,  and  so  made  more  capable  of  enjoying  that  which 
he  had  much  wished  for,  according  to  his  elegant  translation  of, 
or  rather  paraphrase  upon,  those  excellent  lines  in  Seneca^s 
Thyestes,  act  2. 

"  Stet  quicunque  volet  potens, 
Aulae  culmine  lubrico ; 
Me  dulcis  saturet  quies. 
Obscuro  positus  loco, 
Leni  perfruar  otio : 
Nullis  nota  Quiritibus, 
jEtas  per  taciturn  fluat. 
Sic  cum  transierint  mei 
Nullo  cum  strepitu  dies, 
Plebeius  moriar  senex. 
Illi  mors  gravis  incubat, 
Qui  notus  nimis  omnibus, 
Ignotus  moritur  sibi 8." 

"  Let  him  that  will  ascend  the  tottering  seat 
Of  courtly  grandeur,  and  become  as  great 
As  are  his  mounting  wishes  :  As  for  me, 
Let  sweet  repose  and  rest  my  portion  be. 
Give  me  some  mean  obscure  recess ;  a  sphere 
Out  of  the  road  of  business,  or  the  fear 

Jebb,  which  he  applies  to  another  passage  in  this  life,  "  No  improvement  of 
later  times  is  comparable  to  that  legislative  act,  which  gave  judges  their  seat 
FOR  LIFE?"  Burnet's  Lives,  fyc.  p.  104.  n. 

8  Ignotus  moritur  sibi.'}  "  Certainly  men  in  great  fortunes  are  strangers  to 
themselves ;  and  while  they  are  in  the  puzzle  of  business,  they  have  no  time 
to  attend  to  their  health  either  of  body  or  mind  :  Illi  mors  gravis  incubat, 
qui,  notus  nimis  omnibus,  ignotus  moritur  sibi."  Bacon's  Essays,  xi.  quoted 
by  bishop  Jebb,  Burnet's  Lives,  fyc.  p.  72. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  565 

Of  falling  lower :  where  I  sweetly  may 
Myself  and  dear  retirement  still  enjoy. 
Let  not  my  life  or  name  be  known  unto 
The  grandees  of  the  time,  tost  to  and  fro 
By  censures  or  applause ;  but  let  my  age 
Slide  gently  by,  not  overthwart  the  stage 
Of  public  action,  unheard,  unseen, 
And  unconcern' d,  as  if  I  ne'er  had  been. 
And  thus,  while  I  shall  pass  my  silent  days 
In  shady  privacy,  free  from  the  noise 
And  bustles  of  the  bad  world,  then  shall  I 
A  good  old  innocent  plebeian  die. 
Death  is  a  mere  surprise,  a  very  snare 
To  him,  that  makes  it  his  life's  greatest  care 
To  be  a  public  pageant,  known  to  all, 
But  unacquainted  with  himself  doth  fall." 

Having  now  attained  to  that  privacy,  which  he  had  no  less 
seriously  than  piously  wished  for,  he  called  all  his  servants  that 
had  belonged  to  his  office  together,  and  told  them,  he  had  now 
laid  down  his  place,  and  so  their  employments  were  determined ; 
upon  that  he  advised  them  to  see  for  themselves,  and  gave  to  some 
of  them  very  considerable  presents,  and  to  every  one  of  them  a 
token,  and  so  dismissed  all  those  that  were  not  his  domestics. 
He  was  discharged  the  15th  of  February,  1675-6,  and  lived  till 
the  Christmas  following ;  but  all  the  while  was  in  so  ill  a  state  of 
health  that  there  was  no  hopes  of  his  recovery.  He  continued 
still  to  retire  often,  both  for  his  devotions  and  studies ;  and  as 
long  as  he  could  go,  went  constantly  to  his  closet ;  and  when  his 
infirmities  increased  on  him,  so  that  he  was  not  able  to  go  thither 
himself,  he  made  his  servants  carry  him  thither  in  a  chair.  At 
last,  as  the  winter  came  on,  he  saw,  with  great  joy,  his  deliverance 
approaching ;  for  besides  his  being  weary  of  the  world,  and  his 
longings  for  the  blessedness  of  another  state,  his  pains  increased 
so  on  him,  that  no  patience  inferior  to  his  could  have  borne  them 
without  a  great  uneasiness  of  mind  ;  yet  he  expressed  to  the  last 
such  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  and  so  equal  a  temper  under 
them,  that  it  was  visible  then  what  mighty  effects  his  philosophy 
and  Christianity  had  on  him,  in  supporting  him  under  such  a 
heavy  load. 

He  could  not  lie  down  in  bed  above  a  year  before  his  death,  by 
reason  of  the  asthma  ;  but  sat,  rather  than  lay  in  it. 

He  was  attended  on  in  his  sickness,  by  a  pious  and  worthy 
divine,  Mr.  Evan  Griffith,  minister  of  the  parish ;  and  it  was 


566  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

observed,  that  in  all  the  extremities  of  his  pain,  whenever  he 
prayed  by  him,  he  forbore  all  complaints  or  groans,  but  with  his 
hands  and  eyes  lifted  up,  was  fixed  in  his  devotion.  Not  long 
before  his  death,  the  minister  told  him,  "  there  was  to  be  sacra- 
ment next  Sunday  at  church,  but  he  believed  he  could  not  come 
and  partake  with  the  rest ;  therefore  he  would  give  it  to  him  in 
his  own  house  :"  but  he  answered,  "  no ;  his  heavenly  Father  had 
prepared  a  feast  for  him,  and  he  would  go  to  his  Father's  house 
to  partake  of  it.'1  So  he  made  himself  be  carried  thither  in  his 
chair,  where  he  received  the  sacrament  on  his  knees,  with  great 
devotion ;  which  it  may  be  supposed  was  the  greater,  because  he 
apprehended  it  was  to  be  his  last,  and  so  took  it  as  his  viaticum, 
and  provision  for  his  journey.  He  had  some  secret  unaccount- 
able presages  of  his  death  ;  for  he  said,  "  that  if  he  did  not  die 
on  such  a  day,"  (which  fell  to  be  the  25th  of  November)  "  he 
believed  he  should  live  a  month  longer ;"  and  he  died  that  very 
day  month.  He  continued  to  enjoy  the  free  use  of  his  reason  and 
sense  to  the  last  moment,  which  he  had  often  and  earnestly  prayed 
for,  during  his  sickness  :  and  when  his  voice  was  so  sunk,  that 
he  could  not  be  heard,  they  perceived  by  the  almost  constant 
lifting  up  of  his  eyes  and  hands,  that  he  was  still  aspiring 
towards  that  blessed  state,  of  which  he  was  now  speedily  to  be 
possessed. 

He  had  for  many  years  a  particular  devotion  for  Christmas- 
day  ;  and  after  he  had  received  the  sacrament,  and  been  in  the 
performance  of  the  public  worship  of  that  day,  he  commonly  wrote 
a  copy  of  verses  on  the  honour  of  his  Saviour,  as  a  fit  expression 
of  the  joy  he  felt  in  his  soul  at  the  return  of  that  glorious  anni- 
versary. There  are  seventeen  of  those  copies  printed,  which  he 
writ  on  seventeen  several  Christmas-days,  by  which  the  world  has 
a  taste  of  his  poetical  genius ;  in  which,  if  he  had  thought  it 
worth  his  time  to  have  excelled,  he  might  have  been  eminent  as 
well  as  in  other  things ;  but  he  writ  them  rather  to  entertain  him- 
self than  to  merit  the  laurel. 

I  shall  here  add  one  which  has  not  yet  been  printed,  and  it 
is  not  unlikely  it  was  the  last  he  writ ;  it  is  a  paraphrase  on 
Simeon's  Song,  I  take  it  from  his  blotted  copy,  not  at  all 
finished  ;  so  the  reader  is  to  make  allowance  for  any  imperfect  inn 
he  may  find  in  it. 

Blessed  Creator,  who  before  the  birth 
Of  time,  or  ere  the  pillars  of  the  earth 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  567 

Were  fix'd  or  form'd,  didst  lay  that  great  design 

Of  man's  redemption,  and  didst  define 

In  thine  eternal  counsels  all  the  scene 

Of  that  stupendous  business,  and  when 

It  should  appear;  and  though  the  very  day 

Of  its  Epiphany,  concealed  lay 

Within  thy  mind,  yet  thou  wert  pleased  to  show 

Some  glimpses  of  it,  unto  men  below, 

In  visions,  types,  and  prophesies,  as  we 

Things  at  a  distance  in  perspective  see : 

But  thou  wert  pleas'd  to  let  thy  servant  know 

That  that  blest  hour,  that  seem'd  to  move  so  slow 

Through  former  ages,  should  at  last  attain 

Its  time,  ere  my  few  sands,  that  yet  remain 

Are  spent;  and  that  these  aged  eyes 

Should  see  the  day  when  Jacob's  star  should  rise. 

And  now  thou  hast  fulfill'd  it,  blessed  Lord, 

Dismiss  me  now,  according  to  thy  word  ; 

And  let  my  aged  body  now  return 

To  rest,  and  dust,  and  drop  into  an  urn. 

For  I  have  liv'd  enough,  mine  eyes  have  seen 

Thy  much-desired  salvation,  that  hath  been 

So  long,  so  dearly-wish'd,  the  joy,  the  hope 

Of  all  the  ancient  patriarchs,  the  scope 

Of  all  the  prophesies,  and  mysteries, 

Of  all  the  types  unveil'd,  the  histories 

Of  Jewish  church  unriddled,  and  the  bright 

And  orient  sun  arisen  to  give  light 

To  Gentiles,  and  the  joy  of  Israel, 

The  world's  Redeemer,  blest  Emanuel. 

Let  this  sight  close  mine  eyes ;  'tis  loss  to  see, 

After  this  vision,  any  sight  but  Thee. 

Thus  he  used  to  sing  on  the  former  Christmas- days,  but  now 
he  was  to  be  admitted  to  bear  his  part  in  the  new  songs  above ; 
so  that  day,  which  he  had  spent  in  so  much  spiritual  joy,  proved 
to  be  indeed  the  day  of  his  jubilee  and  deliverance ;  for  between 
two  and  three  in  the  afternoon,  he  breathed  out  his  righteous  and 
pious  soul.  His  end  was  peace;  he  had  no  strugglings,  nor 
seemed  to  be  in  any  pangs  in  his  last  moments.  He  was  buried 
on  the  4th  of  January,  Mr.  Griffith  preaching  the  funeral  ser- 
mon. His  text  was  the  57th  of  Isaiah,  ver.  1 : — The  righteous 
perisheth,  and  no  man  layeth  it  to  heart ;  and  merciful  men  are 
taken  away,  none  considering  that  the  righteous  is  taken  away  from 
the  evil  to  come.  Which  how  fitly  it  was  applicable  upon  this 
occasion  ;  all  that  consider  the  course  of  his  life,  will  easily  con- 


568  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

elude.  He  was  interred 9  in  the  church-yard  of  Alderley,  among 
his  ancestors :  he  did  not  much  approve  of  burying  in  churches, 
and  used  to  say,  "The  churches  were  for  the  living,  and  the 
church-yards  for  the  dead."  His  monument  was  like  himself, 
decent  and  plain.  The  tomb-stone  was  black  marble,  and  the 
sides  were  black  and  white  marble ;  upon  which  he  himself  had 
ordered  this  bare  and  humble  inscription  to  be  made : 

HIC    INHUMATUR    CORPUS 

MATTHJEI    HALE,    MILITIS  ; 

ROBERTI    HALE,    ET    JOANNA, 

UXORIS    EJUS,    FILII    UNICI  ; 

NATI    IN    HAC    PAROCHIA    DE 

ALDERLY,    PRIMO    DIE    NOVEMBRIS, 

ANNO    DOM.    1609. 

DENATI    VERO    IBIDEM    VICESIMO 
QU1NTO    DIE    DECEMBRIS, 

ANNO    DOM.    1676. 
.ETATIS    StLE,  LXVI1. 

Having  thus  given  an  account  of  the  most  remarkable  things 
of  his  life,  I  am  now  to  present  the  reader  with  such  a  character 
of  him,  as  the  laying  his  several  virtues  together  will  amount  to  : 
in  which  I  know  how  difficult  a  task  I  undertake ;  for  to  write 
defectively  of  him,  were  to  injure  him,  and  lessen  the  memory  of 
one  to  whom  I  intend  to  do  all  the  right  that  is  in  my  power.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  so  much  here  to  be  commended  and  pro- 
posed for  the  imitation  of  others,  that  I  am  afraid  some  may 
imagine,  I  am  rather  making  a  picture  of  him,  from  an  abstracted 
idea  of  great  virtues  and  perfections,  than  setting  him  out  as  he 
truly  was.  But  there  is  great  encouragement  in  this,  that  I  write 
concerning  a  man  so  fresh  in  all  people's  remembrance,  that  is  so 
lately  dead,  and  was  so  much  and  so  well  known,  that  I  shall  have 
many  vouchers,  who  will  be  ready  to  justify  me  in  all  that  I  am 
to  relate,  and  to  add  a  great  deal  to  what  I  can  say. 

It  has  appeared  in  the  account  of  his  various  learning,  how 
great  his  capacities  were,  and  how  much  they  were  improved  by 
constant  study.  He  rose  always  early  in  the  morning ;  he  loved 
to  walk  much  abroad ;  not  only  for  his  health,  but  he  thought  it 

9  Was  interred.]  "  He  went  into  the  common  church-yard,  and  there 
chose  his  grave,  and  died  a  few  days  after."  Baxter's  Narrative  of  his  Life 
and  Times,  part  3,  p.  181. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  569 

opened  his  mind,  and  enlarged  his  thoughts  to  have  the  creation 
of  God  before  his  eyes.  When  he  set  himself  to  any  study,  he 
used  to  cast  his  design  in  a  scheme,  which  he  did  with  a  great 
exactness  of  method ;  he  took  nothing  on  trust,  but  pursued  his 
enquiries  as  far  as  they  could  go ;  and  as  he  was  humble  enough 
to  confess  his  ignorance,  and  submit  to  mysteries  which  he  could 
not  comprehend ;  so  he  was  not  easily  imposed  on,  by  any  shews 
of  reason  or  the  bugbears  of  vulgar  opinions.  He  brought  all  his 
knowledge  as  much  to  scientifical  principles,  as  he  possibly  could ; 
which  made  him  neglect  the  study  of  tongues,  for  the  bent  of  his 
mind  lay  another  way.  Discoursing  once  of  this  to  some,  they 
said,  "  They  looked  on  the  common  law,  as  a  study  that  could 
not  be  brought  into  a  scheme,  nor  formed  into  a  rational  science, 
by  reason  of  the  indigestedness  of  it,  and  the  multiplicity  of  the 
cases  in  it,  which  rendered  it  very  hard  to  be  understood,  or 
reduced  into  a  method:"  but  he  said,  "He  was  not  of  their 
mind ;"  and  so  quickly  after,  he  drew  with  his  own  hand,  a 
scheme  of  the  whole  order  and  parts  of  it,  in  a  large  sheet  of 
paper,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  those  to  whom  he  sent  it. 
Upon  this  hint,  some  pressed  him  to  compile  a  body  of  the  Eng- 
lish law :  it  could  hardly  ever  be  done  by  a  man  who  knew  it 
better,  and  would  with  more  judgment  and  industry  have  put  it 
into  method :  but  he  said,  "  As  it  was  a  great  and  noble  design, 
which  would  be  of  vast  advantage  to  the  nation ;  so  it  was  too 
much  for  a  private  man  to  undertake.  It  was  not  to  be  entered 
upon,  but  by  the  command  of  a  prince,  and  with  the  com- 
municated endeavours  of  some  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  pro- 
fession." 

He  had  great  vivacity  in  his  fancy,  as  may  appear  by  his 
inclination  to  poetry,  and  the  lively  illustrations,  and  many  tender 
strains  in  his  contemplations ;  but  he  looked  on  eloquence  and 
wit,  as  things  to  be  used  very  chastely,  in  serious  matters,  which 
should  come  under  a  severer  inquiry :  therefore  he  was  both, 
when  at  the  bar,  and  on  the  bench,  a  great  enemy  to  all  eloquence 
or  rhetoric  in  pleading.  He  said,  "  If  the  judge,  or  jury,  had  a 
right  understanding,  it  signified  nothing,  but  a  waste  of  time,  and 
loss  of  words ;  and  if  they  were  weak,  and  easily  wrought  on,  it 
was  a  more  decent  way  of  corrupting  them,  by  bribing  their 
fancies,  and  biassing  their  affections;"  and  wondered  much  at 
that  affectation  of  the  French  lawyers,  in  imitating  the  Roman 
orators  in  their  pleadings :  for  the  oratory  of  the  Romans  was 


570  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

occasioned  by  their  popular  government,  and  the  factions  of  the 
city ;  so  that  those  who  intended  to  excell  in  the  pleading  of 
causes,  were  trained  up  in  the  schools  of  the  rhetors,  till  they 
became  ready  and  expert  in  that  luscious  way  of  discourse.  It 
is  true,  the  composures  of  such  a  man  as  Tully  was,  who  mixed 
an  extraordinary  quickness,  an  exact  judgment,  and  a  just  deco- 
rum with  his  skill  in  rhetoric,  do  still  entertain  the  readers  of 
them  with  great  pleasure:  but  at  the  same  time,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  that  there  is  not  that  chastity  of  stile,  that  close- 
ness of  reasoning,  nor  that  justness  of  figures  in  his  orations,  that 
is  in  his  other  writings ;  so  that  a  great  deal  was  said  by  him, 
rather  because  he  knew  it  would  be  acceptable  to  his  auditors, 
than  that  it  was  approved  of  by  himself;  and  all  who  read  them, 
will  acknowledge,  they  are  better  pleased  with  them  as  essays  of 
wit  and  stile,  than  as  pleadings,  by  which  such  a  judge  as  ours 
was,  would  not  be  much  wrought  on.  And  if  there  are  such 
grounds  to  censure  the  performances  of  the  greatest  master  in 
eloquence,  we  may  easily  infer  what  nauseous  discourses  the  other 
orators  made ;  since  in  oratory,  as  well  as  in  poetry,  none  can  do 
indifferently.  So  our  judge  wondered  to  find  the  French,  that 
live  under  a  monarchy,  so  fond  of  imitating  that  which  was  an  ill 
effect  of  the  popular  government  of  Rome.  He  therefore  pleaded 
himself  always  in  few  words,  and  home  to  the  point:  and  when 
he  was  a  judge,  he  held  those  that  pleaded  before  him,  to  the 
main  hinge  of  the  business,  and  cut  them  short  when  they  made 
excursions  about  circumstances  of  no  moment,  by  which  he  saved 
much  time,  and  made  the  chief  difficulties  be  well  stated  and 
cleared. 

There  was  another  custom  among  the  Romans,  which  he  as 
much  admired,  as  he  despised  their  rhetoric,  which  was,  that  the 
juris- consults  were  the  men  of  the  highest  quality,  who  were  bred 
to  be  capable  of  the  chief  employment  in  the  state,  and  became 
the  great  masters  of  their  law.     These  gave  their  opinions  of  all 
cases  that  were  put  to  them  freely,  judging  it  below  them  to  take 
any  present  for  it ;  and  indeed  they  were  the  only  true  la\\ 
among  them,  whose  resolutions  were  of  that  authority,  that  they 
made  one  classis  of  those  materials,  out  of  which  Trebonian  c 
piled  the  digests  under  Justinian ;   for  the  orators,  or  cans!- 
that  pleaded  causes,  knew  little  of  the  law,  and  only  em  pi 
tlxir  mercenary  tongues,  to  work  on  the  affections  of  the  pe 
and  senate,  or  the  pretors :  even  in  most  of  Tully 's  oration-  ' 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  571 

is  little  of  law ;  and  that  little  which  they  might  sprinkle  in  their 
declamations,  they  had  not  from  their  own  knowledge,  but  the 
resolution  of  some  juris-consult ;  according  to  that  famous  story 
of  Servius  Sulpitius,  who  was  a  celebrated  orator,  and  being  to 
receive  the  resolution  of  one  of  those  that  were  learned  in  the 
law,  was  so  ignorant,  that  he  could  not  understand  it ;  upon  which 
the  juris-consult  reproached  him,  and  said,  "  It  was  a  shame  for 
him  that  was  a  nobleman,  a  senator,  and  a  pleader  of  causes,  to 
be  thus  ignorant  of  law."  This  touched  him  so  sensibly,  that  he 
set  about  the  study  of  it,  and  became  one  of  the  most  eminent 
juris- consults  that  ever  were  at  Rome.  Our  judge  thought  it 
might  become  the  greatness  of  a  prince,  to  encourage  such  a  sort 
of  men,  and  of  studies ;  in  which,  none  in  the  age  he  lived  in  was 
equal  to  the  great  Selden,  who  was  truly  in  our  English  law,  what 
the  old  Roman  juris-consults  were  in  theirs. 

But  where  a  decent  eloquence  was  allowable,  judge  Hale  knew 
how  to  have  excelled  as  much  as  any,  either  in  illustrating  his 
reasonings,  by  proper  and  well  pursued  similies,  or  by  such  tender 
expressions,  as  might  work  most  on  the  affections  ;  so  that  the 
present  lord  chancellor  has  often  said  of  him,  since  his  death, 
"  That  he  was  the  greatest  orator  he  had  known ;"  for  though 
his  words  came  not  fluently  from  him,  yet  when  they  were  out, 
they  were  the  most  significant,  and  expressive,  that  the  matter 
could  bear  *.  Of  this  sort  there  are  many  in  his  Contemplations 
made  to  quicken  his  own  devotion,  which  have  a  life  in  them 
becoming  him  that  used  them,  and  a  softness  fit  to  melt  even  the 
harshest  tempers,  accommodated  to  the  gravity  of  the  subject, 
and  apt  to  excite  warm  thoughts  in  the  readers ;  that  as  they 
shew  his  excellent  temper  that  brought  them  out,  and  applied 
them  to  himself;  so  they  are  of  great  use  to  all,  who  would  both 
inform  and  quicken  their  minds.  Of  his  illustrations  of  things 
by  proper  similies,  I  shall  give  a  large  instance  out  of  his  book 
of  the  Origination  of  Mankind,  designed  to  expose  the  several 
different  hypotheses  the  philosophers  fell  on,  concerning  the  eter- 

1  The  matter  could  bear.']  His  demeanor  and  speaking  as  a  judge,  is  thus 
described  by  one,  no  way  partial  to  his  merits. 

"  He  became  the  cushion  exceedingly  well.  His  manner  of  hearing  was 
patient,  his  directions  pertinent,  and  his  discourses  copious ;  and,  although 
he  hesitated  often,  fluent.  His  stop  for  a  word,  by  the  produce,  always  paid 
for  the  delay:  and  on  some  occasions,  he  would  utter  sentences  heroic." 
Life  of  the  Lord  Keeper  Guilford,  by  the  Hon.  Roger  North,  vol.  i.  p.  114. 
edit.  1808. 


572  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

nity  and  original  of  the  universe,  and  to  prefer  the  account  given 
by  Moses,  to  all  their  conjectures ;  in  which,  if  my  taste  does 
not  misguide  me,  the  reader  will  find  a  rare  and  very  agreeable 
mixture,  both  of  fine  wit,  and  solid  learning  and  judgment 3. 

"  That  which  may  illustrate  my  meaning,  in  this  preference  of 
the  revealed  light  of  the  holy  Scriptures,  touching  this  matter, 
above  the  essays  of  a  philosophical  imagination,  may  be  this. 
Suppose  that  Greece  being  unacquainted  with  the  curiosity  of 
mechanical  engines,  though  known  in  some  remote  region  of  the 
world ;  and  that  an  excellent  artist  had  secretly  brought  and 
deposited  in  some  field,  or  forest,  some  excellent  watch,  or  clock, 
which  had  been  so  formed,  that  the  original  of  its  motion  were 
hidden,  and  involved  in  some  close  contrived  piece  of  mechanism ; 
that  this  watch  was  so  framed,  that  the  motion  thereof  might 
have  lasted  a  year,  or  some  such  time,  as  might  give  a  reasonable 
period  for  their  philosophical  descanting  concerning  it ;  and  that 
in  the  plain  table  there  had  been  not  only  the  description  and 
indication  of  hours,  but  the  configurations  and  indications  of  the 
various  phases  of  the  moon,  the  motion  and  place  of  the  sun  in 
the  ecliptic,  and  divers  other  curious  indications  of  celestial  mo- 
tions ;  and  that  the  scholars  of  the  several  schools  of  Epicurus, 
of  Aristotle,  of  Plato,  and  the  rest  of  those  philosophical  sects, 
had  casually  in  their  walk,  found  this  admirable  automaton : 
what  kind  of  work  would  there  have  been  made  by  every  sect, 
in  giving  an  account  of  this  phenomenon  ! — We  should  have  had 
the  Epicurean  sect,  have  told  the  by-standers,  according  to  their 
preconceived  hypothesis,  'that  this  was  nothing  else  but  an 
accidental  concretion  of  atoms,  that,  happily  fallen  together,  had 
made  up  the  index,  the  wheels,  and  the  balance ;  and  that  being 
happily  fallen  into  this  posture,  they  were  put  into  motion/ 
Then  the  Cartesian  falls  in  with  him,  as  to  the  main  of  their  sup- 
position ;  but  tells  him,  l  that  he  doth  not  sufficiently  explicate 
how  the  engine  is  put  into  motion ;  and  therefore  to  furnish  this 
motion,  there  is  a  certain  materia  subtilis  that  pervades  this 
engine,  and  the  moveable  parts,  consisting  of  certain  globular 
atoms,  apt  for  motion ;  they  are  thereby,  and  by  the  mobility  of 
the  globular  atoms,  put  into  motion.'  A  third,  finding  fault  with 
the  two  former,  'because  those  motions  are  so  regular,  and  do 

3  Learning  and  judgment. ,]  "  The  attentive  reader  cannot  fail  to  observe, 
that  Dr.  Paley  was  largely  indebted  to  this  striking  passage,  in  his  Natural 
Theology."  Bishop  Jebb  in  Burnet's  Lives,  $c.  p.  86. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  573 

express  the  various  phenomena  of  the  distribution  of  time,  and 
the  heavenly  motions :  therefore  it  seems  to  him,  that  this  engine 
and  motion  also,  so  analogical  to  the  motions  of  the  heavens,  was 
wrought  by  some  admirable  conjunction  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
which  formed  this  instrument  and  its  motions,  in  such  an  admi- 
rable correspondency  to  its  own  existence.1  A  fourth,  disliking 
the  suppositions  of  the  three  former,  tells  the  rest,  c  that  he  hath 
a  more  plain  and  evident  solution  of  the  phenomenon,  namely,  the 
universal  soul  of  the  world,  or  spirit  of  nature,  that  formed  so 
many  sorts  of  insects  with  so  many  organs,  faculties,  and  such 
congruity  of  their  whole  composition,  and  such  curious  and  various 
motions,  as  we  may  observe  in  them,  hath  formed  and  set  into 
motion  this  admirable  automatum,  and  regulated  and  ordered  it, 
with  all  these  congruities  we  see  in  it.1  Then  steps  in  an  Aris- 
totelian ;  and  being  dissatisfied  with  all  the  former  solutions,  tells 
them,  '  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  mistaken ;  your  solutions  are 
inexplicable  and  unsatisfactory ;  you  have  taken  up  certain  pre- 
carious hypotheses ;  and  being  prepossessed  with  these  creatures 
of  your  own  fancies,  and  in  love  with  them,  right  or  wrong,  you 
form  all  your  conceptions  of  things  according  to  those  fancied  and 
preconceived  imaginations.  The  short  of  the  business  is,  this 
machina  is  eternal,  and  so  are  all  the  motions  of  it ;  and  inas- 
much as  a  circular  motion  hath  no  beginning  or  end,  this  motion 
that  you  see  both  in  the  wheels  and  index,  and  the  successive 
indications  of  the  celestial  motions,  is  eternal,  and  without  begin- 
ning. And  this  is  a  ready  and  expedite  way  of  solving  the  phe- 
nomena, without  so  much  ado  as  you  have  made  about  it.' 

"  And  whilst  all  the  masters  were  thus  contriving  the  solution 
of  the  phenomenon,  in  the  hearing  of  the  artist  that  made  it ; 
and  when  they  had  all  spent  their  philosophizing  upon  it,  the 
artist  that  made  this  engine,  and  all  this  while  listened  to  their 
admirable  fancies,  tells  them,  '  Gentlemen,  you  have  discovered 
very  much  excellency  of  invention,  touching  this  piece  of  work 
that  is  before  you  ;  but  you  are  all  miserably  mistaken ;  for  it 
was  I  that  made  this  watch,  and  brought  it  hither,  and  I  will 
shew  you  how  I  made  it.  First,  I  wrought  the  spring,  and  the 
fusee,  and  the  wheels,  and  the  balance,  and  the  case  and  table ; 
I  fitted  them  one  to  another,  and  placed  these  several  axes  that 
are  to  direct  the  motions,  of  the  index  to  discover  the  hour  of  the 
day,  of  the  figure  that  discovers  the  phases  of  the  moon,  and  the 
other  various  motions  that  you  see ;  and  then  I  put  it  together, 


574  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

and  wound  up  the  spring,  which  hath  given  all  these  motions, 
that  you  see  in  this  curious  piece  of  work ;  and  that  you  may  be 
sure,  I  tell  you  true,  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  order  and  progress 
of  my  making,  disposing  and  ordering  of  this  piece  of  work ;  the 
several  materials  of  it ;  the  manner  of  the  forming  of  every  indi- 
vidual part  of  it,  and  how  long  I  was  about  it.'  This  plain  and 
evident  disco  very  renders  all  these  excogitated  hypotheses  of  those 
philosophical  enthusiasts  vain  and  ridiculous,  without  any  great 
help  of  rhetorical  flourishes,  or  logical  confutations.  And  much 
of  the  same  nature  is  that  disparity  of  the  hypotheses  of  the 
learned  philosophers,  in  relation  to  the  origination  of  the  world 
and  man,  after  a  great  deal  of  dust  raised,  and  fanciful  explica- 
tions, and  unintelligible  hypotheses.  The  plain,  but  divine  nar- 
rative by  the  hand  of  Moses,  full  of  sense,  and  congruity,  and 
clearness,  and  reasonableness  in  itself,  does  at  the  same  moment 
give  us  a  true  and  clear  discovery  of  this  great  mystery,  and  ren- 
ders all  the  essays  of  the  generality  of  the  heathen  philosophers 
to  be  vain,  in-evident,  and  indeed  inexplicable  theories,  the  crea- 
tures of  phantasy  and  imagination,  and  nothing  else.** 

As  for  his  virtues,  they  have  appeared  so  conspicuous  in  all  the 
several  transactions,  and  turns  of  his  life,  that  it  may  seem  need- 
less to  add  any  more  of  them,  than  has  been  already  related ;  luit 
there  are  many  particular  instances  which  I  knew  not  how  to  fit 
to  the  several  years  of  his  life,  which  will  give  us  a  clearer  and 
better  view  of  him. 

He  was  a  devout  Christian,  a  sincere  Protestant,  and  a  ti MIC 
son  of  the  church  of  England ;  moderate  towards  dissenters,  and 
just  even  to  those  from  whom  he  differed  most ;  which  appi  aivd 
signally  in  the  care  he  took,  in  a  case  of  the  quakers;  when -in 
he  was  very  cautious  in  declaring  their  marriages  void,  and  so 
bastarding  their  children;  but  he  considered  marriage  and  MU-- 
cession  as  a  right  of  nature,  from  which  none  ought  to  be  1  tarred. 
what  mistake  soever  they  might  be  under,  in  the  points  of  rev< 
religion. 

And  therefore  in  a  trial  that  was  before  him,  when  a  qual«-r 
was  sued  for  some  debts  owing  by  his  wife  before  he  married  In  r. 
and  the  quakers  counsel  pretended  "  that  it  was  no  marriage  that 
had  passed  between  them,  since  it  was  not  solemnized  according 
to  the  rules  of  the  church  of  England,"  he  declared,  that  he 
not  willing  on  his  own  opinion  to  make  their  children  ha>tanl>. 
and  <r,'ivc  directions  to  the  jury  to  find  it  special,  \\liicli  thev  did- 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  575 

It  was  a  reflection  on  the  whole  party 3,  that  one  of  them,  to 
avoid  an  inconvenience  he  had  fallen  in,  thought  to  have  preserved 
himself  by  a  defence,  that  if  this  judge  had  absolutely  determined, 
must  have  made  their  whole  issue  bastards,  and  incapable  of  suc- 
cession ;  and  for  all  their  pretended  friendship  to  one  another,  if 
this  judge  had  not  been  more  their  friend,  than  one  of  those  they 
so  called,  their  posterity  had  been  little  beholden  to  them.  But 
he  governed  himself  indeed  by  the  law  of  the  Gospel,  of  doing  to 
others,  what  he  would  have  others  do  to  him  ;  and  therefore  because 
he  would  have  thought  it  a  hardship  not  without  a  cruelty,  if 
amongst  papists  all  marriages  were  nulled  which  had  not  been 
made  with  all  the  ceremonies  in  the  Roman  ritual ;  so  he  apply- 
ing this  to  the  case  of  the  sectaries,  thought  all  marriages  made 
according  to  the  several  persuasions  of  men,  ought  to  have  their 
effects  in  law. 

He  used  constantly  to  worship  God  in  his  family,  performing 
it  always  himself  if  there  was  no  clergyman  present :  but  as  to 
his  private  exercises  in  devotion,  he  took  that  extraordinary  care 
to  keep  what  he  did  secret 4,  that  this  part  of  his  character  must 
be  defective  except  it  be  acknowledged  that  his  humility  in 
covering  it,  commends  him  much  more  than  the  highest  expres- 
sions of  devotion  could  have  done. 

From  the  first  time  that  the  impressions  of  religion  settled 
deeply  in  his  mind  he  used  great  caution  to  conceal  it ;  not  only 
in  obedience  to  the  rules  given  by  our  Saviour,  of  fasting,  praying, 
and  giving  alms  in  secret,  but  from  a  particular  distrust  he  had 
of  himself ;  for  he  said  he  was  afraid  he  should  at  some  time  or 
other,  do  some  enormous  thing,  which  if  he  were  looked  on  as  a 

3  On  the  whole  party. ,]    "  This  reflection  is  neither  creditable  to  Burnet 
himself,  nor  at  all  warrantable  from  the  general  conduct  of  the  quakers. 
The  bishop  was  a  good  logician :  and  ought  to  have  recollected  that,  '  Ar- 
gumentum  non  valet,  a  particulari,  ad  universalem.' "  Bp.  Jebb,  in  Burnet's 
Lives,  Sfc.  p.  91.  n. 

4  What  he  did  secret.']  "  I  had  but  one  fear  or  suspicion  concerning  him, 
which  since,  I  am  assured,  was  groundless.     I  was  afraid  lest  he  had  been 
too  little  for  the  practical  part  of  religion,  as  to  the  working  of  the  soul 
towards  God,  in  prayer,  meditation,  &c.  because  he  seldom  spake  to  me  of 
such  subjects,  nor  of  practical  books,  or  sermons ;  but  was  still  speaking  of 
philosophy,  or  of  spirits,  souls,  the  future  state,  and  the  nature  of  God. 
But,  at  last,  T  understood,  that  his  averseness  to  hypocrisy  made  him  pur- 
posely conceal  the  most  of  such  of  his  practical  thoughts  and  works  ;  as  the 
world  now  findeth  by  his  Contemplations,  and  other  writings."      Baxter's 
Letter  to  Stephens. 


576  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

very  religious  man,  might  cast  a  reproach  on  the  profession  of  it, 
and  give  great  advantages  to  impious  men  to  blaspheme  the 
name  of  God.  But  a  tree  is  known  by  its  fruits ;  and  he  lived 
not  only  free  of  blemishes,  or  scandal,  but  shined  in  all  the  parts 
of  his  conversation.  And  perhaps  the  distrust  he  was  in  of 
himself,  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  purity  of  his  life ;  for  he 
being  thereby  obliged  to  be  more  watchful  over  himself,  and  to 
depend  more  on  the  aids  of  the  spirit  of  God,  no  wonder  if  that 
humble  temper  produced  those  excellent  effects  in  him. 

He  had  a  soul  enlarged  and  raised  above  that  mean  appetite  of 
loving  money,  which  is  generally  the  root  of  all  evil.  He  did  not 
take  the  profits  that  he  might  have  had  by  his  practice ;  for  in 
common  cases,  when  those  who  came  to  ask  his  counsel  gave  him 
a  piece,  he  used  to  give  back  the  half,  and  so  made  ten  shillings 
his  fee  in  ordinary  matters,  that  did  not  require  much  time  or 
study.  If  he  saw  a  cause  was  unjust,  he,  for  a  great  while. 
would  not  meddle  further  in  it,  but  to  give  his  advice  that  it 
was  so :  if  the  parties,  after  that,  would  go  on,  they  were  to  seek 
another  counsellor,  for  he  would  assist  none  in  acts  of  injustice  : 
if  he  found  the  cause  doubtful,  or  weak  in  point  of  law,  he  always 
advised  his  clients  to  agree  their  business:  yet  afterwards  In- 
abated  much  of  the  scrupulosity  he  had  about  causes  that  ap- 
peared at  first  view  unjust,  upon  this  occasion :  There  were  two 
causes  brought  to  him,  which  by  the  ignorance  of  the  party,  or 
their  attorney,  were  so  ill  represented  to  him  that  they  seemed 
to  be  very  bad;  but  he  enquiring  more  narrowly  into  them, 
found  they  were  really  very  good  and  just:  so  after  this  he 
slackened  much5  of  his  former  strictness,  of  refusing  to  meddle 
in  causes  upon  the  ill  circumstances  that  appeared  in  tin 'in 
at  first. 

In  his  pleading  he  abhorred  those  too  common  faults  of  mi-- 
reciting   evidences,    quoting    precedents,    or  books   falsely,    or 
asserting  things  confidently ;  by  which  ignorant  juries,  or  u 
judges,  are  too  often  wrought  on.     He  pleaded  with  the  same 
sincerity  that  he  used  in  the  other  parts  of  his  life,  and  used  to 

•  He  slackened  much.]  Compare  above,  p.  531.  "Judge  Hale  would  tell 
me  that  bishop  Usher  was  much  prejudiced  against  lawyers,  because  the 
worst  causes  find  their  advocates ;  but  that  he  and  Mr.  Selden  had  r<m- 
vinced  him  of  the  reasons  of  it,  to  his  satisfaction."  Baxter's  Letter  to 
Mr.  Stephens.  See  Hale's  Moral,  fyc.  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  106.  See  Index,  art. 
Barristers. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  577 

say,  "  it  was  as  great  a  dishonour  as  a  man  was  capable  of,  that 
for  a  little  money  he  was  to  be  hired  to  say  or  do  otherwise 
than  as  he  thought."  All  this  he  ascribed  to  the  unmea- 
surable  desire  of  heaping  up  wealth,  which  corrupted  the  souls 
of  some  that  seemed  to  be  otherwise  born  and  made  for  great 
things. 

When  he  was  a  practitioner,  differences  were  often  referred  to 
him  which  he  settled ;  but  would  accept  of  no  reward  for  his 
pains,  though  offered  by  both  parties  together,  after  the  agree- 
ment was  made ;  for  he  said,  "  in  those  cases  he  was  made  a 
judge,  and  a  judge  ought  to  take  no  money."  If  they  told 
him,  "he  lost  much  of  his  time  in  considering  their  business, 
and  so  ought  to  be  acknowledged  for  it,"  his  answer  was,  (as 
one  that  heard  it  told  me,)  "  can  I  spend  my  time  better  than 
to  make  people  friends  ?  must  I  have  no  time  allowed  me  to  do 
good  in  ?" 

He  was  naturally  a  quick  man,  yet  by  much  practice  on  him- 
self, he  subdued  that  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  would  never  run 
suddenly  into  any  conclusion  concerning  any  matter  of  impor- 
tance. Festina  lente  was  his  beloved  motto,  which  he  ordered  to 
be  engraven  on  the  head  of  his  staff:  and  was  often  heard  say, 
"  that  he  had  observed  many  witty  men  run  into  great  errors, 
because  they  did  not  give  themselves  time  to  think;  but  the 
heat  of  imagination  making  some  notions  appear  in  good  colours 
to  them,  they  without  staying  till  that  cooled,  were  violently  led 
by  the  impulses  it  made  on  them  ;  whereas  calm  and  slow  men 
who  pass  for  dull  in  the  common  estimation,  could  search  after 
truth,  and  find  it  out,  as  with  more  deliberation,  so  with  greater 
certainty." 

He  laid  aside  the  tenth  penny  of  all  he  got  for  the  poor,  and 
took  great  care  to  be  well  informed  of  proper  objects  for  his 
charities ;  and  after  he  was  a  judge,  many  of  the  perquisites  of 
his  place,  as  his  dividend  of  the  rule  and  box-money,  were  sent  by 
him  to  the  jails,  to  discharge  poor  prisoners,  who  never  knew 
from  whose  hands  their  relief  came.  It  is  also  a  custom  for  the 
marshal  of  the  king's  bench  to  present  the  judges  of  that  court 
with  a  piece  of  plate  for  a  new-yearVgift,  that  for  the  chief 
justice  being  larger  than  the  rest ;  this  he  intended  to  have 
refused,  but  the  other  judges  told  him  it  belonged  to  his  office, 
and  the  refusing  it  would  be  a  prejudice  to  his  successors,  so  he 
was  persuaded  to  take  it,  but  he  sent  word  to  the  marshal,  that 

VOL.  iv.  P  p 


578  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

instead  of  plate,  he  should  bring  him  the  value  of  it  in  money  ; 
and  when  he  received  it,  he  immediately  sent  it  to  the  prisons, 
for  the  relief  and  discharge  of  the  poor  there.  He  usually  invited 
his  poor  neighbours  to  dine  with  him,  and  made  them  sit  at  table 
with  himself :  and  if  any  of  them  were  sick,  so  that  they  could 
not  come  he  would  send  meat  warm  to  them  from  his  table :  and 
he  did  not  only  relieve  the  poor  in  his  own  parish,  but  sent  sup- 
plies to  the  neighbouring  parishes,  as  there  was  occasion  for  it : 
and  he  treated  them  all  with  the  tenderness  and  familiarity  that 
became  one  who  considered  they  were  of  the  same  nature  with 
himself,  and  were  reduced  to  no  other  necessities  but  such  as  he 
himself  might  be  brought  to.  But  for  common  beggars,  if  any  of 
these  came  to  him  as  he  was  in  his  walks,  when  he  lived  in  the 
country,  he  would  ask  such  as  were  capable  of  working,  "  why 
they  went  about  so  idly?"  If  they  answered,  "it  was  because 
they  could  find  no  work,"  he  often  sent  them  to  some  field,  to 
gather  all  the  stones  in  it,  and  lay  them  on  a  heap,  and  then 
would  pay  them  liberally  for  their  pains :  this  being  done,  he 
used  to  send  his  carts,  and  caused  them  to  be  carried  to  such 
places  of  the  highway  as  needed  mending. 

But  when  he  was  in  town,  he  dealt  his  charities  very  liberally, 
even  among  the  street-beggars ;  and  when  some  told  him,  "  that 
he  thereby  encouraged  idleness,  and  that  most  of  these  were 
notorious  cheats,"  he  used  to  answer,  "  that  he  believed  most  of 
them  were  such ;  but  among  them  there  were  some  that  were 
great  objects  of  charity,  and  pressed  with  grievous  necessities ; 
and  that  he  had  rather  give  his  alms  to  twenty,  who  might  be 
perhaps  rogues,  than  that  one  of  the  other  sort  should  perish  for 
want  of  that  small  relief  which  he  gave  them." 

He  loved  building  much,  which  he  affected  chiefly,  because  it 
employed  many  poor  people  :  but  one  thing  was  observed  in  all 
his  buildings,  that  the  changes  he  made  in  his  houses,  were 
always  from  magnificence  to  usefulness,  for  he  avoided  every 
thing  that  looked  like  pomp,  or  vanity,  even  in  the  walls  of  his 
houses.  He  had  good  judgment  in  architecture,  and  an  excellent 
faculty  in  contriving  well. 

He  was  a  gentle  landlord  to  all  his  tenants,  and  was  ever  ready 
upon  any  reasonable  complaints,  to  make  abatements ;  for  he 
was  merciful  as  well  as  righteous.  One  instance  of  this  was,  of  a 
widow  that  lived  in  London,  and  had  a  small  estate  near  hi> 
house  in  the  country,  from  which  her  rents  were  ill  returned  to 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  579 

her,  and  at  a  cost  which  she  could  not  well  bear :  so  she  bemoaned 
herself  to  him ;  and  he,  according  to  his  readiness  to  assist  all 
poor  people,  told  her,  "  he  would  order  his  steward  to  take  up 
her  rents,  and  the  returning  them  should  cost  her  nothing."  But 
after  that,  when  there  was  a  falling  of  rents  in  that  country,  so 
that  it  was  necessary  to  make  abatements  to  the  tenant,  yet  he 
would  have  it  to  lie  on  himself,  and  made  the  widow  be  paid  her 
rent  as  formerly. 

Another  remarkable  instance  of  his  justice  and  goodness  was, 
that  when  he  found  ill  money  had  been  put  into  his  hands,  he 
would  never  suffer  it  to  be  vented  again  ;  for  he  thought  it  was 
no  excuse  for  him  to  put  false  money  in  other  peopled  hands, 
because  some  had  put  it  in  his.  A  great  heap  of  this  he  had 
gathered  together,  for  many  had  so  far  abused  his  goodness,  as 
to  mix  base  money  among  the  fees  that  were  given  him.  It  is 
like  he  intended  to  have  destroyed  it,  but  some  thieves  who  had 
observed  it,  broke  into  his  chamber  and  stole  it,  thinking  they 
had  got  a  prize,  which  he  used  to  tell  with  some  pleasure,  ima- 
gining how  they  found  themselves  deceived,  when  they  perceived 
what  sort  of  booty  they  had  fallen  on 6. 

After  he  was  made  a  judge,  he  would  needs  pay  more  for  every 
purchase  he  made  than  it  was  worth.  If  it  had  been  but  a  horse 
he  was  to  buy,  he  would  have  outbid  the  price :  and  when  some 
represented  to  him,  that  he  made  ill  bargains,  he  said,  it  became 
judges  to  pay  more  for  what  they  bought  than  the  true  value, 
that  so  those  with  whom  they  dealt  might  not  think  they  had 
any  right  to  their  favour,  by  having  sold  such  things  to  them  at 
an  easy  rate :  and  said  it  was  suitable  to  the  reputation  which 
a  judge  ought  to  preserve,  to  make  such  bargains,  that  the 
world  might  see  they  were  not  too  well  used  upon  some  secret 
account. 

In  sum,  his  estate  did  shew  how  little  he  had  minded  the 
raising  a  great  fortune ;  for  from  a  hundred  pound  a  year,  he 
raised  it  not  quite  to  nine  hundred,  and  of  this  a  very  consider- 
able part  came  in  by  his  share  of  Mr.  Selden's  estate ;  yet  this, 

6  They  had  fallen  onJ]  "  This,"  (says  bishop  Jebb,  in  the  notes  to  his 
edition  of  Burnet's  Lives,  Characters,  fyc.  1833.  8vo.  p.  98.)  "  which 
Burnet  mentions  as  a  'remarkable  instance'  of  integrity,  even  in  such  a 
person  as  sir  Matthew  Hale,  is  now  regarded  as  the  ordinary  habit  of 
any  one  that  pretends  to  the  rank,  or  name  of  a  gentleman"  (or  a 
Christian). 


580  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

considering  his  great  practice  while  a  counsellor,  and  his  con- 
stant, frugal,  and  modest  way  of  living,  was  but  a  small  for- 
tune 7.  In  the  share  that  fell  to  him  by  Mr.  Selden's  will,  one 
memorable  thing  was  done  by  him,  with  the  other  executors,  by 
which  they  both  shewed  their  regard  to  their  dead  friend,  and 
their  love  of  the  public.  His  library  was  valued  at  some  thou- 
sands of  pounds,  and  was  believed  to  be  one  of  the  most  curious 
collections  in  Europe :  so  they  resolved  to  keep  this  intire,  for 
the  honour  of  Selden's  memory,  and  gave  it  to  the  university  of 
Oxford,  where  a  noble  room  was  added  to  the  former  library  for 
its  reception,  and  all  due  respects  have  been  since  shewed  by  that 
great  and  learned  body  to  those  their  worthy  benefactors,  who 
not  only  parted  so  generously  with  this  great  treasure,  but  were 
a  little  put  to  it  how  to  oblige  them,  without  crossing  the  will  of 
their  dead  friend.  Mr.  Selden  had  once  intended  to  give  his 
library  to  that  university,  and  had  left  it  so  by  his  will ;  but 
having  occasion  for  a  manuscript,  which  belonged  to  their  library, 
they  asked  of  him  a  bond  of  a  thousand  pound  for  its  restitution ; 
this  he  took  so  ill  at  their  hands,  that  he  struck  out  that  part  of 
his  will  by  which  he  had  given  them  his  library,  and  with  some 
passion  declared  "  they  should  never  have  it."  The  executors 
stuck  at  this  a  little,  but  having  considered  better  of  it,  came  to 
this  resolution  ;  that  they  were  to  be  the  executors  of  Mr.  Sel- 
den's will,  and  not  of  his  passion ;  so  they  made  good  what  he 
had  intended  in  cold  blood,  and  passed  over  what  his  passion  had 
suggested  to  him. 

The  parting  with  so  many  excellent  books  would  have  been  as 
uneasy  to  our  judge,  as  any  thing  of  that  nature  could  be,  if  a 
pious  regard  to  his  friend's  memory  had  not  prevailed  over  him ; 
for  he  valued  books  and  manuscripts  above  all  things  in  the 
world.  He  himself  had  made  a  great  and  rare  collection  of 
manuscripts  belonging  to  the  law  of  England ;  he  was  forty  years 
in  gathering  it :  he  himself  said  it  cost  him  about  fifteen  hundred 
pounds,  and  calls  it  in  his  will,  "  a  treasure  worth  having  and 
keeping,  and  not  fit  for  every  man's  view."  These  all  he  left  to 
Lincoln's- Inn,  and  for  the  information  of  those  who  are  curious 


7  But  a  small  fortune.']  "  I  wondered,  when  he  told  me  how  small  his 
estate  was,  after  such  ways  of  getting  as  were  before  him :  but  as  he  had 
little,  and  desired  little,  so  he  was  content  with  little ;  and  suited  his  dwelling, 
table,  and  retinue  thereto."  Baxter's  Letter  to  Mr.  Stephens. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  581 

to  search  into  such  things,  there  shall  be  a  catalogue  of  them 
added  at  the  end  of  this  book. 

By  all  these  instances  it  does  appear,  how  much  he  was  raised 
above  the  world,  or  the  love  of  it.  But  having  thus  mastered 
things  without  him,  his  next  study  was  to  overcome  his  own  incli- 
nations. He  was,  as  he  said  himself,  naturally  passionate ;  I  add, 
as  he  said  himself,  for  that  appeared  by  no  other  evidence,  save  that 
sometimes  his  colour  would  rise  a  little ;  but  he  so  governed 
himself,  that  they  who  lived  long  about  him,  have  told  me  they 
never  saw  him  disordered  with  anger,  though  he  met  with  some 
trials,  that  the  nature  of  man  is  as  little  able  to  bear,  as  any 
whatsoever.  There  was  one  who  did  him  a  great  injury,  which 
it  is  not  necessary  to  mention,  who  coming  afterwards  to  him  for 
his  advice  in  the  settlement  of  his  estate,  he  gave  it  very  frankly 
to  him,  but  would  accept  of  no  fee  for  it,  and  thereby  shewed 
both  that  he  could  forgive  as  a  Christian,  and  that  he  had  the 
soul  of  a  gentleman  in  him,  not  to  take  money  of  one  that  had 
wronged  him  so  heinously.  And  when  he  was  asked  by  one, 
"how  he  could  use  a  man  so  kindly,  that  had  wronged  him  so 
much ;"  his  answer  was,  "  he  thanked  Grod  he  had  learned  to 
forget  injuries."  And  besides  the  great  temper  he  expressed  in 
all  his  public  employments,  in  his  family  he  was  a  very  gentle 
master.  He  was  tender  of  all  his  servants :  he  never  turned  any 
away,  except  they  were  so  faulty,  that  there  was  no  hope  of  re- 
claiming them.  When  any  of  them  had  been  long  out  of  the  way, 
or  had  neglected  any  part  of  their  duty,  he  would  not  see  them 
at  their  first  coming  home,  and  sometimes  not  till  the  next  day, 
lest  when  his  displeasure  was  quick  upon  him,  he  might  have 
chid  them  indecently  ;  and  when  he  did  reprove  them,  he  did  it 
with  that  sweetness  and  gravity,  that  it  appeared  he  was  more 
concerned  for  their  having  done  a  fault,  than  for  the  offence 
given  by  it  to  himself.  But  if  they  became  immoral  or  unruly, 
then  he  turned  them  away,  for  he  said,  "he  that  by  his  place 
ought  to  punish  disorders  in  other  people,  must  by  no  means 
suffer  them  in  his  own  house."  He  advanced  his  servants  accord- 
ing to  the  time  they  had  been  about  him,  and  would  never  give 
occasion  to  envy  amongst  them,  by  raising  the  younger  clerks 
above  those  who  had  been  longer  with  him.  He  treated  them 
all  with  great  affection,  rather  as  a  friend,  than  a  master,  giving 
them  often  good  advice  and  instruction.  He  made  those  who 
had  good  places  under  him,  give  some  of  their  profits  to  the 


582  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

other  servants,  who  had  nothing  but  their  wages.  When  he  made 
his  will,  he  left  legacies  to  every  one  of  them ;  but  he  expressed 
a  more  particular  kindness  for  one  of  them,  Robert  Gibbon,  of 
the  Middle  Temple,  Esq.  in  whom  he  had  that  confidence,  that 
he  left  him  one  of  his  executors.  I  the  rather  mention  him, 
because  of  his  noble  gratitude  to  his  worthy  benefactor  and 
master :  for  he  has  been  so  careful  to  preserve  his  memory,  that 
as  he  set  those  on  me,  at  whose  desire  I  undertook  to  write  his 
life,  so  he  has  procured  for  me  a  great  part  of  those  memorials 
and  informations,  out  of  which  I  have  composed  it. 

The  judge  was  of  a  most  tender  and  compassionate  nature. 
This  did  eminently  appear  in  his  trying  and  giving  sentence  upon 
criminals,  in  which  he  was  strictly  careful,  that  not  a  circum- 
stance should  be  neglected,  which  might  any  way  clear  the  fact. 
He  behaved  himself  with  that  regard  to  the  prisoners,  which 
became  both  the  gravity  of  a  judge,  and  the  pity  that  was  due  to 
men,  whose  lives  lay  at  stake,  so  that  nothing  of  jearing  or  unrea- 
sonable severity  fell  from  him.  He  also  examined  the  witnesses 
in  the  softest  manner,  taking  care  that  they  should  be  put  under 
no  confusion,  which  might  disorder  their  memory :  and  he  summed 
all  the  evidence  so  equally  when  he  charged  the  jury,  that  the 
criminals  themselves  never  complained  of  him.  When  it  came  to 
him  to  give  sentence,  he  did  it  with  that  composedness  and 
decency,  and  his  speeches  to  the  prisoners  directing  them  to 
prepare  for  death,  were  so  weighty,  so  free  of  ah1  affectation,  and 
so  serious  and  devout,  that  many  loved  to  go  to  the  trials  when 
he  sate  judge,  to  be  edified  by  his  speeches,  and  behaviour  in 
them,  and  used  to  say,  "  they  heard  very  few  such  sermons." 

But  though  the  pronouncing  the  sentence  of  death  was  the 
piece  of  his  employment  that  went  most  against  the  grain  with 
him ;  yet  in  that  he  could  never  be  mollified  to  any  tenderness 
which  hindered  justice.  When  he  was  once  pressed  to  recom- 
mend some  (whom  he  had  condemned)  to  his  majesty's  mercy 
and  pardon  ;  he  answered,  "  he  could  not  think  they  deserved  a 
pardon,  whom  he  himself  adjudged  to  die :"  so  that  all  he  would 
do  in  that  kind  was  to  give  the  king  a  true  account  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  fact,  after  which  his  majesty  was  to  consider 
whether  he  would  interpose  his  mercy,  or  let  justice  take  pin 

His  mercifulness  extended  even  to  his  beasts;  for  when  the 
horses  that  he  had  kept  long  grew  old,  he  would  not  suffer 
them  to  be  sold,  or  much  wrought,  but  ordered  his  men  to  turn 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  583 

them  loose  on  his  grounds,  and  put  them  only  to  easy  work, 
such  as  going  to  market  and  the  like  :  he  used  old  dogs  also  with 
the  same  care.  His  shepherd  having  one  that  was  become  blind 
with  age,  he  intended  to  have  killed  or  lost  him,  but  the  judge 
coming  to  hear  of  it,  made  one  of  his  servants  bring  him  home, 
and  fed  him  till  he  died.  And  he  was  scarce  ever  seen  more  angry 
than  with  one  of  his  servants  for  neglecting  a  bird  that  he  kept, 
so  that  it  died  for  want  of  food. 

He  was  a  great  encourager  of  all  young  persons  that  he 
saw  followed  their  books  diligently,  to  whom  he  used  to  give 
directions  concerning  the  method  of  their  study,  with  a  humanity 
and  sweetness,  that  wrought  much  on  all  that  came  near  him : 
and  in  a  smiling  pleasant  way,  he  would  admonish  them,  if  he 
saw  any  thing  amiss  in  them :  particularly  if  they  went  too  fine 
in  their  clothes,  he  would  tell  them,  "  it  did  not  become  their 
profession."  He  was  not  pleased  to  see  students  wear  long 
perriwigs,  or  attorneys  go  with  swords ;  so  that  such  young  men 
as  would  not  be  persuaded  to  part  with  those  vanities,  when  they 
went  to  him  laid  them  aside,  and  went  as  plain  as  they  could, 
to  avoid  the  reproof  which  they  knew  they  might  otherwise 
expect. 

He  was  very  free  and  communicate  in  his  discourse,  which  he 
most  commonly  fixed  on  some  good  and  useful  subject,  and  loved 
for  an  hour  or  two  at  night  to  be  visited  by  some  of  his  friends. 
He  neither  said  nor  did  any  thing  with  affectation,  but  used  a 
simplicity,  that  was  both  natural  to  himself,  and  very  easy  to 
others :  and  though  he  never  studied  the  modes  of  civility,  or 
court  breeding,  yet  he  knew  not  what  it  was  to  be  rude  or  harsh 
with  any,  except  he  were  impertinently  addressed  to  in  matters 
of  justice ;  then  he  would  raise  his  voice  a  little,  and  so  shake  off 
those  importunities. 

In  his  furniture,  and  the  service  of  his  table,  and  way  of  living, 
he  liked  the  old  plainness  so  well,  that  as  he  would  set  up  none  of 
the  new  fashions,  so  he  rather  affected  a  coarseness  in  the  use  of 
the  old  ones  :  which  was  more  the  effect  of  his  philosophy  than 
disposition,  for  he  loved  fine  things  too  much  at  first.  He  was 
always  of  an  equal  temper,  rather  cheerful  than  merry.  Many 
wondered  to  see  the  evenness  of  his  deportment,  in  some  very 
sad  passages  of  his  life. 

Having  lost  one  of  his  sons,  the  manner  of  whose  death  had 
some  grievous  circumstances  in  it,  one  coming  to  see  him  and 


584  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

condole,  he  said  to  him,  "  those  were  the  effects  of  living  long ; 
such  must  look  to  see  many  sad  and  unacceptable  things ;"  and 
having  said  that,  he  went  to  other  discourses,  with  his  ordinary 
freedom  of  mind ;  for  though  he  had  a  temper  so  tender,  that 
sad  things  were  apt  enough  to  make  deep  impressions  upon  him, 
yet  the  regard  he  had  to  the  wisdom  and  providence  of  God,  and 
the  just  estimate  he  made  of  external  things,  did  to  admiration 
maintain  the  tranquillity  of  his  mind,  and  he  gave  no  occasion,  by 
idleness,  to  melancholy  to  corrupt  his  spirit,  but  by  the  perpetual 
bent  of  his  thoughts,  he  knew  well  how  to  divert  them  from  being 
oppressed  with  the  excesses  of  sorrow. 

He  had  a  generous  and  noble  idea  of  God  in  his  mind,  and  this 
he  found  did  above  all  other  considerations  preserve  his  quiet. 
And  indeed  that  was  so  well  established  in  him,  that  no  accidents, 
how  sudden  soever,  were  observed  to  discompose  him :  of  which 
an  eminent  man  of  that  profession  gave  me  this  instance.  In  the 
year  1666,  an  opinion  did  run  through  the  nation,  that  the  end 
of  the  world 8  would  come  that  year.  This,  whether  set  on  by 
astrologers,  or  advanced  by  those  who  thought  it  might  have  some 
relation  to  the  number  of  the  beast  in  the  Revelation,  or  promoted 
by  men  of  ill  design,  to  disturb  the  public  peace,  had  spread 
mightily  among  the  people ;  and  judge  Hale  going  that  year  the 
western  circuit,  it  happened,  that  as  he  was  on  the  bench  at  the 
assizes,  a  most  terrible  storm  fell  out  very  unexpectedly,  accom- 
panied with  such  flashes  of  lightning,  and  claps  of  thunder,  that 
the  like  will  hardly  fall  out  in  an  age ;  upon  which  a  whisper  or 
a  rumour  ran  through  the  crowd,  that  now  was  the  world  to  end, 
and  the  day  of  judgment  to  begin,  and  at  this  there  followed  a 
general  consternation  in  the  whole  assembly,  and  all  men  forgot 
the  business  they  were  met  about,  and  betook  themselves  to  their 
prayers :  this,  added  to  the  horror  raised  by  the  storm,  looked 
very  dismally ;  in  so  much  that  my  author,  a  man  of  no  ordinary 

8  End  of  the  world.]  In  Wren's  Parentalia,  p.  146,  is  inserted,  what  is 
called  "a  prophetic  observation,  copied  from  the  dean's  own  hand,"  (Dr. 
Christopher  Wren,  dean  of  Windsor,)  "  in  a  small  note-book  of  his,  written, 
as  it  should  seem,  in  the  year  1623.  He  died  in  1658,  viz.  eight  years  before 
the  fire  of  London." — Latinae  literse  numerales  nullae  sunt  praeter  has  septem 
nobis  adhuc  in  usu  quotidiano, 

M  DC  LXVI. 

"  Note.  That  all  the  numeral  letters  in  the  Latin  tongue  can  make  up  but 
1666  ;  so  that  when  the  odd  666  are  completed  in  the  years  of  Christ,  it  may 
bode  some  ominous  matter,  and  perhaps  the  last  end." 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  585 

resolution,  and  firmness  of  mind,  confessed  it  made  a  great  impres- 
sion on  himself.  But  he  told  me,  that  he  did  observe  the  judge 
was  not  a  whit  affected,  and  was  going  on  with  the  business  of  the 
court  in  his  ordinary  manner ;  from  which  he  made  this  conclu- 
sion, that  his  thoughts  were  so  well  fixed,  that  he  believed  if  the 
world  had  been  really  to  end,  it  would  have  given  him  no  consi- 
derable disturbance. 

But  I  shall  now  conclude  all  that  I  shall  say  concerning  him, 
with  what  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  profession  of  the  law 
sent  me  as  an  abstract  of  the  character  he  had  made  of  him,  upon 
long  observation,  and  much  converse  with  him.  It  was  sent  me, 
that  from  thence,  with  the  other  materials,  I  might  make  such  a 
representation  of  him  to  the  world,  as  he  indeed  deserved ;  but  I 
resolved  not  to  shred  it  out  in  parcels,  but  to  set  it  down  entirely 
as  it  was  sent  me,  hoping  that  as  the  reader  will  be  much  delighted 
with  it,  so  the  noble  person  that  sent  it,  will  not  be  offended  with 
me  for  keeping  it  entire,  and  setting  it  in  the  best  light  I  could. 
It  begins  abruptly,  being  designed  to  supply  the  defects  of  others, 
from  whom  I  had  earlier  and  more  copious  informations. 

"  He  would  never  be  brought  to  discourse  of  public  matters  in 
private  conversation ;  but  in  questions  of  law,  when  any  young 
lawyer  put  a  case  to  him,  he  was  very  communicative ;  especially 
while  he  was  at  the  bar :  but  when  he  came  to  the  bench,  he 
grew  more  reserved,  and  would  never  suffer  his  opinion  in  any 
case  to  be  known,  till  he  was  obliged  to  declare  it  judicially ;  and 
he  concealed  his  opinion  in  great  cases  so  carefully,  that  the  rest 
of  the  judges  in  the  same  court  could  never  perceive  it :  his  reason 
was,  because  every  judge  ought  to  give  sentence  according  to  his 
own  persuasion  and  conscience,  and  not  to  be  swayed  by  any 
respect  or  deference  to  another  man's  opinion :  and  by  this  means 
it  happened  sometimes,  that  when  all  the  barons  of  the  exchequer 
had  delivered  their  opinions,  and  agreed  in  their  reasons  and 
arguments,  yet  he  coming  to  speak  last,  and  differing  in  judgment 
from  them,  hath  expressed  himself  with  so  much  weight  and  soli- 
dity, that  the  barons  have  immediately  retracted  their  votes,  and 
concurred  with  him.  He  hath  sat  as  a  judge  in  all  the  courts  of 
law,  and  in  two  of  them  as  chief;  but  still  wherever  he  sat,  all 
business  of  consequence  followed  him,  and  no  man  was  content  to 
sit  down  by  the  judgment  of  any  other  court,  till  the  case  was 
brought  before  him,  to  see  whether  he  were  of  the  same  mind : 
and  his  opinion  being  once  known,  men  did  readily  acquiesce  in  it ; 


586  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

and  it  was  very  rarely  seen,  that  any  man  attempted  to  bring  it 
about  again,  and  he  that  did  so,  did  it  upon  great  disadvantages, 
and  was  always  looked  upon  as  a  very  contentious  person ;  so  that 
what  Cicero  says  of  Brutus,  did  very  often  happen  to  him,  Etiam 
quos  contra  statuit  cequos  placatosque  dimisit. 

"  Nor  did  men  reverence  his  judgment  and  opinion  in  courts  of 
law  only,  but  his  authority  was  as  great  in  courts  of  equity,  and 
the  same  respect  and  submission  was  paid  him  there  too.  And 
this  appeared  not  only  in  his  own  court  of  equity  in  the  Exchequer 
chamber,  but  in  the  Chancery  too  ;  for  thither  he  was  often  called 
to  advise  and  assist  the  lord  chancellor,  or  lord  keeper  for  the 
time  being ;  and  if  the  cause  were  of  difficult  examination,  or  in- 
tricated  and  entangled  with  variety  of  settlements,  no  man  ever 
shewed  a  more  clear  and  discerning  judgment :  if  it  were  of  great 
value,  and  great  persons  interested  in  it,  no  man  shewed  gr< 
courage  and  integrity  in  laying  aside  all  respect  of  persons.  When 
he  came  to  deliver  his  opinion,  he  always  put  his  discourse  into 
such  a  method,  that  one  part  of  it  gave  light  to  the  other ;  and 
where  the  proceedings  of  Chancery  might  prove  inconvenient  to 
the  subject,  he  never  spared  to  observe  and  reprove  them.  And 
from  his  observations  and  discourses  the  Chancery  hath  taken 
occasion  to  establish  many  of  those  rules,  by  which  it  governs 
itself  at  this  day. 

"  He  did  look  upon  equity  as  a  part  of  the  common  law,  and 
one  of  the  grounds  of  it ;  and  therefore,  as  near  as  he  could,  he 
did  always  reduce  it  to  certain  rules  and  principles,  that  men  mi^lit 
study  it  as  a  science,  and  not  think  the  administration  of  it  had 
any  thing  arbitrary  in  it.  Thus  eminent  was  this  man  in  every 
station,  and  into  what  court  soever  he  was  called,  he  quickly  mad. 
it  appear  that  he  deserved  the  chief  seat  there. 

"  As  great  a  lawyer  as  he  was,  he  would  never  suffer  the  strict- 
ness of  law  to  prevail  against  conscience;  as  great  a  chancellor 
as  he  was,  he  would  make  use  of  all  the  niceties  and  subtil  tic*  in 
law,  when  it  tended  to  support  right  and  equity.  But  nothing 
was  more  admirable  in  him,  than  his  patience :  he  did  not  affect 
the  reputation  of  quickness  and  dispatch,  by  a  hasty  and  captious 
hearing  of  the  counsel :  he  would  bear  with  the  meanest,  and  -j 
every  man  his  full  scope,  thinking  it  much  better  to  lose  tinn1  than 
patience.  In  summing  up  of  an  evidence  to  a  jury,  he  would 
always  require  the  bar  to  interrupt  him  if  he  did  mistake,  and  to 
put  him  in  mind  of  it,  if  he  did  forget  the  least  circum>tai 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  587 

some  judges  have  been  disturbed  at  this  as  a  rudeness,  which  he 
always  looked  upon  as  a*  service  and  respect  done  to  him. 

"  His  whole  life  was  nothing  else  but  a  continual  course  of 
labour  and  industry ;  and  when  he  could  borrow  any  time  from 
the  public  service,  it  was  wholly  employed  either  in  philosophical 
or  divine  meditations,  and  even  that  was  a  public  service  too  as  it 
hath  proved  ;  for  they  have  occasioned  his  writing  of  such  trea- 
tises, as  are  become  the  choicest  entertainment  of  wise  and  good 
men,  and  the  world  hath  reason  to  wish  that  more  of  them  were 
printed.  He  that  considers  the  active  part  of  his  life,  and  with 
what  unwearied  diligence  and  application  of  mind  he  dispatched 
all  men's  business  which  came  under  his  care,  will  wonder  how  he 
could  find  any  time  for  contemplation :  he  that  considers  again 
the  various  studies  he  passed  through,  and  the  many  collections 
and  observations  he  hath  made,  may  as  justly  wonder  how  he  could 
find  any  time  for  action  :  but  no  man  can  wonder  at  the  exem- 
plary piety  and  innocence  of  such  a  life  so  spent  as  this  was, 
wherein  as  he  was  careful  to  avoid  every  idle  word,  so  it  is  mani- 
fest he  never  spent  an  idle  day.  They  who  came  far  short  of  this 
great  man,  will  be  apt  enough  to  think  that  this  is  a  panegyric, 
which  indeed  is  a  history,  and  but  a  little  part  of  that  history 
which  was  with  great  truth  to  be  related  of  him.  Men  who  de- 
spair of  attaining  such  perfection,  are  not  willing  to  believe  that 
any  man  else  did  ever  arrive  at  such  a  height. 

"  He  was  the  greatest  lawyer  of  the  age,  and  might  have  had 
what  practice  he  pleased,  but  though  he  did  most  conscientiously 
affect  the  labours  of  his  profession,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  de- 
spised the  gain  of  it ;  and  of  those  profits  which  he  would  allow 
himself  to  receive,  he  always  set  apart  a  tenth  penny  for  the  poor, 
which  he  ever  dispensed  with  that  secrecy,  that  they  who  were 
relieved,  seldom  or  never  knew  their  benefactor.  He  took  more 
pains  to  avoid  the  honours  and  preferments  of  the  gown,  than 
others  do  to  compass  them.  His  modesty  was  beyond  all  exam- 
ple ;  for  where  some  men  who  never  attained  to  half  his  know- 
ledge, have  been  puffed  up  with  a  high  conceit  of  themselves,  and 
have  affected  all  occasions  of  raising  their  own  esteem  by  depre- 
ciating other  men ;  he  on  the  contrary  was  the  most  obliging 
man  that  ever  practised :  if  a  young  gentleman  happened  to  be 
retained  to  argue  a  point  in  law,  where  he  was  on  the  contrary 
side,  he  would  very  often  mend  the  objections  when  he  came  to 
repeat  them,  and  always  commended  the  gentleman  if  there  were 


588  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

room  for  it ;  and  one  good  word  of  his  was  of  more  advantage  to 
a  young  man,  than  all  the  favour  of  the  court  could  be.1' 

Having  thus  far  pursued  his  history  and  character,  in  the  pub- 
lic and  exemplary  parts  of  his  life,  without  interrupting  the  thread 
of  the  relation,  with  what  was  private  and  domestic,  I  shall  con- 
clude with  a  short  account  of  these. 

He  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife  was  Anne,  daughter  of 
sir  Henry  Moor,  of  Faly,  in  Berkshire,  grandchild  to  sir  Fr. 
Moor,  Serjeant  at  law ;  by  her  he  had  ten  children ;  the  four  first 
died  young,  the  other  six  lived  to  be  all  married,  and  he  outlived 
them  ah1,  except  his  eldest  daughter,  and  his  youngest  son,  who 
are  yet  alive. 

His  eldest  son  Robert,  married  Frances,  the  daughter  of  sir 
Francis  Chock,  of  Avington,  in  Berkshire;  and  they  both  dying 
in  a  little  time  one  after  another,  left  five  children,  two  sons, 
Matthew  and  Gabriel,  and  three  daughters,  Anne,  Mary,  and 
Frances ;  and  by  the  judge's  advice,  they  both  made  him  their 
executor  ;  so  he  took  his  grand-children  into  his  own  care,  and 
among  them  he  left  his  estate. 

His  second  son  Matthew,  married  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Matt.  Simmond,  of  Hilsley,  in  Glocestershire,  who  died  soon 
after,  and  left  one  son  behind  him,  named  Matthew. 

His  third  son  Thomas  married  Rebekah,  the  daughter  of 
Christian  le  Brune,  a  Dutch  merchant,  and  died  without  issue. 

His  fourth  son  Edward,  married  Mary,  the  daughter  of  Ed- 
mund Goodyere,  esq.  of  Hey  thorp,  in  Oxfordshire,  and  still  li 
he  has  two  sons,  and  three  daughters. 

His  eldest  daughter  Mary,  was  married  to  Edward  Alderly,  of 
Innishannon  in  the  county  of  Cork,  in  Ireland,  who  dying,  left 
her  with  two  sons,  and  three  daughters;  she  is  since  marri< 
Edward  Stephens,  son  to  Edward  Stephens,  esq.  of  Cherington. 
in  Glocestershire.  His  youngest  daughter  Elizabeth,  was  mar- 
ried to  Edward  Webb,  esq.  barrister  at  law;  she  died,  leaving 
two  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter. 

His  second  wife  was  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Joseph  Bishop. 
of  Faly,  in  Berkshire,  by  whom  he  had  no  children.     He  n 
her  a  great  character  in  his  will,  as  a  most  dutiful,  faithful,  and 
loving  wife,  and  therefore  trusted  "the  breeding  of  his  grand- 

9  And  therefore  trusted.']  "  Many  censured  him  for  choosing  his  last 
below  his  quality:  but  the  good  man  more  regarded  his  own  daily  con 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  589 

children  to  her  care,  and  left  her  one  of  his  executors,  to  whom 
he  joined  sir  Robert  Jenkinson  and  Mr.  Gibbon.  So  much  may 
suffice  of  those  descended  from  him. 

In  after-times,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  it  will  be  reckoned 
no  small  honor  to  derive  from  him :  and  this  has  made  me  more 
particular  in  reckoning  up  his  issue. — I  shall  next  give  an  ac- 
count of  the  issues  of  his  mind,  his  books,  that  are  either  printed, 
or  remain  in  manuscript. — For  the  last  of  these,  by  his  will  he 
has  forbid  the  printing  of  any  of  them  after  his  death,  except 
such  as  he  should  give  order  for  in  his  life :  but  he  seems  to  have 
changed  his  mind  afterwards,  and  to  have  left  it  to  the  discretion 
of  his  executors,  which  of  them  might  be  printed ;  for  though  he 
does  not  express  that,  yet  he  ordered  by  a  codicil,  "  that  if  any 
book  of  his  writing,  as  well  touching  the  common  law,  as  other 
subjects,  should  be  printed ;  then  what  should  be  given  for  the 
consideration  of  the  copy,  should  be  divided  into  ten  shares,  of 
which  he  appointed  seven  to  go  among  his  servants !,  and  three 
to  those  who  had  copied  them  out,  and  were  to  look  after  the 
impression."  The  reason,  as  I  have  understood  it,  that  made 
him  so  unwilling  to  have  any  of  his  works  printed  after  his  death, 
was,  that  he  apprehended  in  the  licensing  them,  (which  was  ne- 
cessary before  any  book  could  be  lawfully  printed,  by  a  law  then 
in  force,  but  since  his  death  determined)  some  things  might  have 
been  struck  out,  or  altered,  which  he  had  observed  not  without 
some  indignation,  had  been  done  to  a  part  of  the  Eeports  of  one 
whom  he  had  much  esteemed. 

This  in  matters  of  law,  he  said,  might  prove  to  be  of  such 
mischievous  consequence,  that  he  thereupon  resolved  none  of  his 
writings  should  be  at  the  mercy  of  licensers ;  and  therefore,  be- 
cause he  was  not  sure  that  they  should  be  published  without  ex- 
purgations or  interpolations,  he  forbid  the  printing  any  of  them, 


than  men's  thoughts  and  talk.  As  far  as  I  could  discern,  he  chose  one 
very  suitable  to  his  ends ;  one  of  his  own  judgment  and  temper,  pru- 
dent, and  loving,  and  fit  to  please  him;  and  that  would  not  draw  on  him 
the  trouble  of  much  acquaintance  and  relations."  Baxter's  Letter  to  Mr. 
Stephens. 

1  Among  his  servants.']  "  It  showed  his  mean  estate  as  to  riches,  that, 
in  his  will,  he  is  put  to  distribute  the  profits  of  a  book  or  two  when  printed, 
among  his  friends  and  servants.  Alas  !  we  that  are  great  losers  by  printing, 
know  that  it  must  be  a  small  gain,  that  must  thus  accrue  to  them."  Baxter's 
Letter  to  Mr.  Stephens. 


590  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

in  which  he  afterwards  made  some  alteration,  at  least  he  gave 
occasion  by  his  codicil,  to  infer,  that  he  altered  his  mind. 

This  I  have  the  more  fully  explained,  that  his  last  will  may 
be  no  way  misunderstood,  and  that  his  worthy  executors,  and  his 
hopeful  grand-children,  may  not  conclude  themselves  to  be  under 
an  indispensable  obligation,  of  depriving  the  public  of  his  excellent 
writings. 


A  Catalogue  of  all  his  Books  that  are  printed,  and  are  to  be  sold  by  William 
Shrowsbery,  at  the  sign  of  the  Bible,  in  Duke-lane. 

1 .  The  Primitive  Origination  of  Mankind,  considered  and  examined  accord- 

ing to  the  Light  of  Nature.     Fol. 

2.  Contemplations,  Moral  and  Divine.     Part  I.     Octavo. 

3.  Contemplations,  Moral  and  Divine.     Part  II. 

4.  Difficiles  Nugte,  or  Observations  touching  the  Torricellian  Experiment,  and 

the  various  Solutions  of  the  same,  especially  touching  the  Weight  and 
Elasticity  of  the  Air.     Octavo. 

5.  An  Essay  touching  the  Gravitation,  or  Non-Gravitation  of  Fluid  Bodies, 

and  the  Reasons  thereof.     Octavo. 

6.  Observations  touching  the  Principles  of  Natural  Motions,  and  especially 

touching  Rarefaction  and  Condensation ;  together  with  a  Reply  to  cer- 
tain Remarks,  touching  the  Gravitation  of  Fluids.     Octavo. 

7.  The  Life  and  Death  of  Pomponius  Atticus,  written  by  his  Contemporary 

and  Acquaintance,  Cornelius  Nepos,  translated  out  of  his  Fragments ; 
together  with  Observations,  political  and  moral,  thereupon.     Octavo. 

8.  Pleas  of  the  Crown,  or  a  Methodical  Summary  of  the  Principal  Matters 

relating  to  that  Subject.     Octavo. 

Manuscripts  of  his  not  yet  published. 

1.  Concerning  the  Secondary  Origination  of  Mankind2.     Fol. 

2.  Concerning  Religion,  5  vols.  in  fol.  viz. 

1.  De  Deo,  Vox  Metaphysica,  Pars  I.  and  II. 

2.  Pars  III.     Vox  Naturae,  Providentiae,  Ethicae,  Conscientiae. 

3.  Liber  sextus,  Septimus,  octavus. 

4    Pars  IX.     Concerning  the  Holy  Scriptures,  their  Evidence  and 

Authority. 
5.  Concerning  the  Truth  of  the  Holy  Scripture,  and  the  Evidences 

thereof. 

3.  Of  Policy  in  Matters  of  Religion.     Fol. 

4.  De  Anima,  to  Mr.  B.     Fol. 

3  Origination  of  mankind.']  See  note  at  p.  557. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  591 

5.  De  Anima,  Transactions  between  him  and  Mr.  B.     Fol. 

6.  Tentamina,  de  Ortu,  Natura  et  Immortalitate  Animse.     Fol. 

7.  Magnetismus  Magneticus.     Fol. 

8.  Magnetismus  Physicus.     Fol. 

9.  Magnetismus  Divinus. 

10.  De  Generatione  Animalium  et  Vegetabilium.     Fol.     Lat. 

11.  Of  the  Law  of  Nature.     Fol. 

12.  A  Letter  of  Advice3  to  his  Grand-children.     Quarto. 

13.  Placita  Coronse.     7  vols.  fol. 

14.  Preparatory  Notes  concerning  the  Rights  of  the  Crown.     Fol. 

15.  Incepta  de  Juribus  Coronse.     Fol. 

16.  De  Prerogativa  Regis.     Fol. 

17.  Preparatory  Notes  touching  Parliamentary  Proceedings.    2  vols.  quarto. 

18.  Of  the  Jurisdiction  of  the  House  of  Lords.     Quarto. 

19.  Of  the  Jurisdiction  of  the  Admiralty. 

20.  Touching  Ports  and  Customs.     Fol. 

21.  Of  the  Right  of  the  Sea,  and  the  Arms  thereof,  and  Custom.     Fol. 

22.  Concerning  the  Advancement  of  Trade.     Quarto. 

23.  Of  Sheriffs'  Accounts.     Fol. 

24.  Copies  of  Evidences.     Fol. 

25.  Mr.  Selden's  Discourses.     Octavo. 

26.  Excerpta  ex  Schedis  Seldenianis. 

27.  Journal  of  the  18  and  21  Jacobi  Regis.     Quarto. 

28.  Great  Common-place  Book  of  Reports  or  Cases  in  the  Law,  in  Law 

French.     Fol. 


In  Bundles. 

On  Quod  tibi  fieri,  &c.    Matt.  vii.  12. 

Touching  Punishments,  in  relation  to  the  Socinian  Controversy. 

Policies  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

Concerning  the  Laws  of  England. 

Of  the  Amendment  of  the  Laws  of  England. 

Touching  Provision  for  the  Poor. 

Upon  Mr.  Hobbs's  Manuscript. 

Concerning  the  Time  of  the  Abolition  of  the  Jewish  Laws. 


In  Quarto. 

Quod  sit  Deus. 

Of  the  State  and  Condition  of  the  Soul  and  Body  after  Death. 

Notes  concerning  Matters  of  Law. 


3  Letter  of  Advice.']  This  has  been  printed  since  Burnet  wrote,  and  probably 
others  have  appeared  :  but  it  is  better  to  give  the  list  in  Burnet's  words. 


592  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

To  these  I  shall  add  the  Catalogue  of  the  Manuscripts,  which  he  left  to  the 
Honourable  Society  of  Lincoln* s-Inn,  with  that  part  of  his  Will  that  concerns 
them. 

"  Item,  As  a  testimony  of  my  honour  and  respect  to  the  Society  of  Lin- 
coln's-Inn,  where  I  had  the  greatest  part  of  my  education  ;  I  give  and 
bequeath  to  that  honourable  society  the  several  manuscript  books,  contained 
in  a  schedule  annexed  to  my  will :  they  are  a  treasure  worth  having  and 
keeping,  which  I  have  been  near  forty  years  in  gathering,  with  very  great 
industry  and  expense.  My  desire  is,  that  they  be  kept  safe,  and  all  together, 
in  remembrance  of  me.  They  were  fit  be  bound  in  leather,  and  chained, 
and  kept  in  Archives.  I  desire  they  may  not  be  lent  out,  or  disposed  of  : 
only  if  I  happen  hereafter  to  have  any  of  my  posterity  of  that  society,  that 
desires  to  transcribe  any  book,  and  give  very  good  caution  to  restore  it  again 
in  a  prefixed  time,  such  as  the  benchers  of  that  society  in  council  shall 
approve  of;  then,  and  not  otherwise,  only  one  book  at  one  time  may  be  lent 
out  to  them  by  the  society ;  so  that  there  be  no  more  but  one  book  of  those 
books  abroad  out  of  the  library  at  one  time.  They  are  a  treasure  that  are 
not  fit  for  every  man's  view ;  nor  is  every  man  capable  of  making  use  of 
them  :  only  I  would  have  nothing  of  these  books  printed,  but  entirely  pre- 
served together,  for  the  use  of  the  industrious  learned  members  of  that 
society." 

A  Catalogue  of  the  Books  given   by  him  to  Lincoln' s-Inn,  according  to  the 
Schedule 4  annexed  to  his  Will. 

Placita  de  tempore  Regis  Johannis.     1  vol.  stitched. 

Placita  coram  Rege  E.  1 .     2  vols. 

Placita  coram  Rege  E.  2.     1  vol. 

Placita  coram  Rege  E.  3.     3  vols. 

Placita  coram  Rege  R.  2.     1  vol. 

Placita  coram  Rege  H.  4.  H.  5.     1  vol. 

Placita  de  Banco,  E.  1.  ab  anno  1.  ad  annum  21.     1  vol. 

Transcripts  of  many  Pleas,  coram  Rege  et  de  Banco  E.  1.     1  vol. 

The  Pleas  in  the  Exchequer,  stiled  Communia,  From  1  E.  3  to  46  E.  5.    3  vols. 

Close  Rolls  of  King  John,  verbatim  of  the  most  material  things.     1  vol. 

The  principal  matters  in  the  Close  and  Patent  Rolls,  of  H.  3.    Transcribed, 

verbatim,  from  9  H.  3.  to  56  H.  3.     5  vols.     Vellum,  marked  K.  L. 
The  principal  matters  in  the  close  and  patent  Rolls,  E.  1 .  with  several  copies 

and  abstracts  of  Records.     1  vol.  marked  F. 
A  long  book  of  abstracts  of  Records,  by  me. 
Close  and  Patent  Rolls,  from  1  to  10  E.  3.  and  other  Records  of  the  Time  of 

H.  3.     1  vol.  marked  W. 

4  The  Schedule.']  A  somewhat  fuller  catalogue  of  the  MSS.  in  Lincoln's- 
Inn  Library,  compiled  by  Philip  Stubbs,  is  published  in  Bernard's  Catalogi 
librorum  manuscriptorum  Anglue  et  Hibernice,  A.  D.  1697,  but  it  is  very  i1 
rect.  A  better  catalogue,  compiled  by  Mr.  Joseph  Hunter,  wi)l  be  found  in 
the  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  Public  Records,  presented  to  \Villiam  IV. 
in  1837,  p.  352. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  593 

Close  Rolls  of  15  E.  3.  with  other  Records.     1  vol.  marked  N. 

Close  Rolls  from  17  to  38  E.  3.     2  vols. 

Close  and  Patent  Rolls,  from  40  E.  3.  to  50  E.  3.     1  vol.  marked  B. 

Close  Rolls  of  E.  2.  with  other  Records.     1  vol.  R. 

Close  and  Patent  Rolls,  and  Charter  Rolls  in  the  time  of  King  John,  for  the 
Clergy.  1  vol. 

A  great  volume  of  Records  of  several  natures,  G. 

The  Leagues  of  the  Kings  of  England,  tempore  E.  I.E.  2.  E.  3.     1  vol. 

A  Book  of  ancient  Leagues  and  Military  Provisions.     1  vol. 

The  Reports  of  Iters  of  Derby,  Nottingham  and  Bedford,  transcribed.     1  vol. 

Itinera  Forest,  de  Pickering  et  Lancaster,  transcript,  ex  originali.     1  vol. 

An  ancient  Reading,  very  large,  upon  Charta  de  Forestae,  and  of  the  Forest 
Laws. 

The  Transcript  of  the  Iter  Forestae  de  Dean.     1  vol. 

Quo  Warranto  and  Liberties  of  the  County  of  Gloucester,  with  the  Pleas  of 
the  Chace  of  Kingswood.  1  vol. 

Transcript  of  the  Black  Book  of  the  Admiralty,  Laws  of  the  Army,  Impo- 
sitions and  several  Honours.  1  vol. 

Records  of  Patents,  Inquisitions,  &c.  of  the  county  of  Leicester.     1  vol. 

Muster  and  Military  Provisions  of  all  sorts,  extracted  from  the  Records.    1  vol. 

Gervasius  Tilburiensis,  or  the  Black  Book  of  the  Exchequer.     1  vol. 

The  King's  Title  to  the  Pre-emption  of  Tin.     A  thin  vol. 

Calender  of  the  Records  in  the  Tower.    A  small  vol. 

A  Miscellany  of  divers  Records,  Orders,  and  other  things  of  various  Natures, 
marked  E.  1  vol. 

Another  of  the  like  nature,  in  leather  cover.     1  vol. 

A  Book  of  divers  Records  and  things  relating  to  the  Chancery.     1  vol. 

Titles  of  Honour  and  Pedigrees,  especially  touching  Clifford.     1  vol. 

History  of  the  Marches  of  Wales,  collected  by  me.     1  vol. 

Certain  Collections  touching  Titles  of  Honour.     1  vol. 

Copies  of  several  Records  touching  Premunire.     1  vol. 

Extract  of  Commissions,  tempore  H.  7«  H.  8.  R.  and  the  Proceedings  in  the 
Court  Military,  between  Ray  and  Ramsay.  1  vol. 

Petitions  in  Parliament,  tempore  E.  1.  E.  2.  E.  3.  H.  4.     3  vols. 

Summons  of  Parliament,  from  49  H.  3.  to  22  E.  4.     3  vols. 

The  Parliament  Rolls,  from  the  beginning  of  E  1.  to  the  End  of  R.  3.  In 
19  vols.  viz.  One  of  E.  1.  One  of  E.  2.  with  the  Ordinations;  Two  of 
E.  3.  Three  of  R.  2.  Two  of  H.  4.  Two  of  H.  5.  Four  of  H.  6.  Three  of 
E.  4.  One  of  R.  3.  all  transcribed  at  large. 

Mr.  Elsing's  book  touching  Proceedings  in  Parliament.     1  vol. 

Noy's  Collection  touching  the  King's  Supplies.     1  vol.  stitched. 

A  Book  of  various  Collections  out  of  Records  and  the  Register  of  Canter- 
bury, and  Claymes  at  the  Coronation  of  R.  2.  1  vol. 

Transcript  of  Bishop  Ussher's  Notes,  principally  concerning  Chronology. 
3  large  vols. 

A  Transcript  out  of  Dooms-Day  Book,  of  Glocestershire  and  Hertford- 
shire, and  of  some  Pipe-Rolls,  and  old  Accompts  of  the  Customs. 
1  vol. 

VOL.  iv.  Q  q 


594  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

Extracts  and  Collections  out  of  Records,  touching  Titles  of  Honour.     1  vol. 
Extracts  of  Pleas,  Patents,  and  Close  Rolls,  tempore  H.  3.  E.  1.  E.  2.  E.  3. 

and  some  old  Antiquities  of  England.     1  vol. 
Collections   and   Memorials   of  many    Records  and   Antiquities.      1   vol. 

Seldeni. 

Calender  of  Charters  and   Records   in  the   Tower,  touching   Gloucester- 
shire. 
Collection  of  Notes  and  Records  of  various  natures,  marked  M.     1  vol. 

Seldeni. 

Transcript  of  the  Iters  of  London,  Kent,  Cornwall.     1  vol. 
Extracts  out  of  the  Leiger-Books  of  Battell,  Evesham,  Winton,  &c.     1  vol. 

Seldeni. 

Copies  of  the  principal  Records  in  the  Red- Book  in  the  Exchequer.     1  vol. 
Extracts  of  Records  and  Treatises,  relating  to  Sea-Affairs.     I  vol. 
Records  touching  Customs,   Ports,   Partition  of  the    Lands   of    Gil.    De 

Clare,  &c. 

Extract  of  Pleas  in  the  Time  of  R.  1.  King  John,  E.  1,  &c.     1  vol. 
Cartae  Antiquae  in  the  Tower,  transcribed,  in  2  vols. 
Chronological  remembrances,  extracted  out  of  the  Notes  of  Bishop  Ussher. 

1  vol.  stitched. 

Inquisitiones  de  Legibus  Walliae.     1  vol. 
Collections,  or  Records,  touching  Knighthood. 
Titles  of  Honour.     Seldeni.     1  vol. 
Mathematics  and  Fortifications.     1  vol. 
Processus  Curiae  Militaris.     1  vol. 
A  Book  of  Honour,  stitched.     1  vol. 
Extracts  out  of  the  Registry  of  Canterbury. 
Copies  of  several   Records,  touching   Proceedings  in  the   Military-Court. 

1  vol. 
Abstracts  of  Summons  and  Rolls  of  Parliament,  out  of  the  Book  of  Dunelm, 

and  some  Records,  alphabetically  digested.     1  vol. 
Abstracts  of  divers  Records  in  the  Office  of  First  Fruits.     1  vol.  stitched. 
Mathematical  and  Astrological  Calculations.     1  vol. 
A  Book  of  Divinity. 
Two  large  Repositories  of  Records,  marked  A.  and  B. 

(All  those  above  are  in  Folio.) 

The  Proceedings  of  the  Forests  of  Windsor,  Dean,  and  Essex.    In  Quarto, 

1  vol. 

(Those  that  follow,  are  most  of  them  in  Vellum,  or  Parchment.) 

Two  Books  of  old  Statutes,  one  ending  H.  7.  the  other  2  H.  5.  with  the  sums. 

2  vols. 

Five  last  Years  E.  2.     1  vol. 

Reports  tempore  E.  2.     1  vol. 

The  Year-Book  of  R.  2.  and  some  others.     1  vol. 

An  old  Chronicle,  from  the  Creation,  to  E.  3.     1  vol. 

A  Mathematical  Book,  especially  of  Optiques.     1  vol. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  r>95 

A  Dutch  Book  of  Geometry  and  Fortification. 

Marci  Beneventani  Geometrica.     1  vol. 

Reports,  tempore  E.  1.  under  titles.     1  vol. 

An  Old  Register,  and  some  Pleas.     1  vol. 

Bernardi  Breidenbach  Peregrinatio.     1  vol. 

Iter  Cantii  and  London,  and  some  Reports,  tempore  E.  2.     1  vol. 

Reports,  tempore  E.  1.  &  E.  2.     1  vol. 

Leiger-Book  Abbatiae  De  Bello. 

Tsidori  Opera. 

Liber  altercationis  et  Christianas  Philosophise,  contra  Paganos. 

Historia  Petri  Manducatoris. 

Horicii  Astronomica. 

Historia  Ecclesiee  Dunelmensis. 

Holandi  Chymica. 

De  Alchymiae  Scriptoribus. 

The  Black  Book   of  the  New   Law  collected  by  me,  and  digested  into 

alphabetical  Titles,  written  with  my  own   Hand    which  is  the   Original 

Copy. 

MATTHEW  HALE. 


CONCLUSION. 

THUS  lived  and  died  sir  Matthew  Hale,  the  renowned  lord  chief 
justice  of  England.  He  had  one  of  the  blessings  of  virtue  in  the 
highest  measure  of  any  of  the  age,  that  does  not  always  follow  it, 
which  was,  that  he  was  universally  much  valued  and  admired  by 
men  of  all  sides  and  persuasions :  for  as  none  could  hate  him  but 
for  his  justice  and  virtues,  so  the  great  estimation  he  was  gene- 
rally in,  made,  that  few  durst  undertake  to  defend  so  ingrateful 
a  paradox,  as  any  thing  said  to  lessen  him  would  have  appeared 
to  be.  His  name  is  scarce  ever  mentioned  since  his  death,  with- 
out particular  accents  of  singular  respect.  His  opinion  in  points 
of  law  generally  passes  as  an  uncontrollable  authority,  and  is  often 
pleaded  in  all  the  courts  of  justice :  and  all  that  knew  him  well, 
do  still  speak  of  him  as  one  of  the  perfectest  patterns  of  religion 
and  virtue  they  ever  saw. 

The  commendations  given  him  by  all  sorts  of  people,  are  such, 
that  I  can  hardly  come  under  the  censures  of  this  age,  for  any 
thing  I  have  said  concerning  him ;  yet  if  this  book  lives  to  after- 
times,  it  will  be  looked  on  perhaps  as  a  picture,  drawn  more 
according  to  fancy  and  invention,  than  after  the  life :  if  it  were 
not  that  those  who  knew  him  well,  establishing  its  credit  in  the 

uq  2 


596  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 

present  age,  will  make  it  pass  down  to  the  next  with  a  clearer 
authority. 

I  shall  pursue  his  praise  no  further  in  my  own  words,  but  shall 
add  what  the  present  lord  chancellor  of  England 5  said  concern- 
ing him,  when  he  delivered  the  commission  to  the  lord  chief  jus- 
tice Rainsford,  who  succeeded  him  in  that  office,  which  he  began 
in  this  manner  : 

"  The  vacancy  of  the  seat  of  the  chief  justice  of  this  court,  and 
that  by  a  way  and  means  so  unusual,  as  the  resignation  of  him, 
that  lately  held  it ;  and  this  too  proceeding  from  so  deplorable  a 
cause,  as  the  infirmity  of  that  body,  which  began  to  forsake  the 
ablest  mind  that  ever  presided  here,  hath  filled  the  kingdom  with 
lamentations,  and  given  the  king  many  and  pensive  thoughts,  how 
to  supply  that  vacancy  again."  And  a  little  after,  speaking  to 
his  successor,  he  said,  "  the  very  labours  of  the  place,  and  that 
weight  and  fatigue  of  business  which  attends  it,  are  no  small  dis- 
couragements ;  for  what  shoulders  may  not  justly  fear  that  bur- 
then which  made  him  stoop  that  went  before  you  ?  Yet,  I  con- 
fess, you  have  a  greater  discouragement  than  the  mere  burthen 
of  your  place,  and  that  is  the  unimitable  example  of  your  last 
predecessor :  onerosum  est  succedere  bono  principi,  was  the  saying 
of  him  in  the  panegyric  :  and  you  will  find  it  so  too.  that  are  to 
succeed  such  a  chief  justice,  of  so  indefatigable  an  industry,  so 
invincible  a  patience,  so  exemplary  an  integrity,  and  so  magna- 
nimous a  contempt  of  worldly  things,  without  which  no  man  can 
be  truly  great ;  and  to  all  this  a  man  that  was  so  absolute  a 
master  of  the  science  of  the  law,  and  even  of  the  most  abstruse 
and  hidden  parts  of  it,  that  one  may  truly  say  of  his  knowledge 
in  the  law,  what  St.  Austin  said  of  St.  Hierome's  knowledge  in 
divinity,  Quod  Hieronimus  nescivit,  nullus  mortalium  unquam 
scivit.  And  therefore  the  king  would  not  suffer  himself  to  part 
with  so  great  a  man,  till  he  had  placed  upon  him  all  the  marks  of 
bounty  and  esteem,  which  his  retired  and  weak  condition  \\a> 
capable  of." 

To  this  high  character,  in  which  the  expressions,  as  they 
become  the  eloquence  of  him  who  pronounced  them,  so  they  do 
agree  exactly  to  the  subject,  without  the  abatements  that 
often  to  be  made  for  rhetoric,  I  shall  add  that  part  of  the  lord 
chief  justice's  answer,  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  predecessor. 

ft  Lord  chancellor  of  England.]  Sir  Heneage  Finch. 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE.  597 

" A  person  in  whom  his  eminent  virtues,  and  deep  learn- 
ing, have  long  managed  a  contest  for  the  superiority,  which  is  not 
decided  to  this  day ;  nor  will  it  ever  be  determined,  I  suppose, 
which  shall  get  the  upper  hand.  A  person  that  has  sat  in  this 
court  these  many  years,  of  whose  actions  there  I  have  been  an 
eye  and  ear- witness,  that  by  the  greatness  of  his  learning  always 
charmed  his  auditors  to  reverence  and  attention :  a  person  of 
whom  I  think  I  may  boldly  say,  that  as  former  times  cannot 
shew  any  superior  to  him,  so  I  am  confident  succeeding  and 
future  time  will  never  shew  any  equal.  These  considerations, 
heightened  by  what  I  have  heard  from  your  lordship  concerning 
him,  made  me  anxious  and  doubtful,  and  put  me  to  a  stand,  how 
I  should  succeed  so  able,  so  good,  and  so  great  a  man.  It  doth 
very  much  trouble  me,  that  I,  who  in  comparison  of  him,  am  but 
like  a  candle  lighted  in  the  sun-shine,  or  like  a  glow-worm  at 
mid-day,  should  succeed  so  great  a  person,  that  is  and  will  be  so 
eminently  famous  to  all  posterity:  and  I  must  ever  wear  this 
motto  in  my  breast  to  comfort  me,  and  in  my  actions  to  excuse 
me : 

*  Sequitur,  quamvis  non  passibus  sequis/  " 

Thus  were  panegyrics  made  upon  him  while  yet  alive,  in  that 
same  court  of  justice  which  he  had  so  worthily  governed.  As 
he  was  honoured  while  he  lived,  so  he  was  much  lamented  when 
he  died :  and  this  will  still  be  acknowledged  as  a  just  inscription 
for  his  memory,  though  his  modesty  forbid  any  such  to  be  put  on 
his  tombstone : 

THAT  HE  WAS  ONE  OF  THE  GREATEST  PATTERNS  THIS  AGE 
HAS  AFFORDED,  WHETHER  IN  HIS  PRIVATE  DEPORTMENT  AS  A 
CHRISTIAN,  OR  IN  HIS  PUBLIC  EMPLOYMENTS,  EITHER  AT  THE 

BAR  OR  ON  THE  BENCH. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 


It  must  be  confessed,  that  the  credit  of  religion  hath  much  suffered,  in  the 
age  we  live  in,  through  the  vain  pretences  of  many  to  it,  who  have  only 
acted  a  part  in  it  for  the  sake  of  some  private  interests  of  their  own.  And 
it  is  the  usual  logic  of  Atheists,  Crimine  ab  uno,  disce  omnes,  if  there  be  any 
hypocrites,  all  who  make  shew  of  religion  are  such ;  on  which  account,  the 
Hypocrisy  of  one  age  makes  way  for  the  Atheism  of  the  next. 

BISHOF  STILLINGFLEET. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  following  Narrative  is  reprinted  intire  from  Some  Passages 
of  the  Life  and  Death  of  the  Right  Hon.  John  Earl  of  Rochester, 
who  died  the  26th  of  July,  1680 :  written  ly  his  own  direction  on 
his  death-led,  by  Gilbert  Burnet,  D.D.  London,  1680;  a  volume, 
which  Doctor  Johnson  has  declared  in  his  Lives  of  the  Poets, 
that  "  the  critic  ought  to  read  for  its  elegance,  the  philosopher 
for  its  arguments,  and  the  saint  for  its  piety." 


PREFACE. 


THE  celebrating  the  praises  of  the  dead,  is  an  argument  so  worn 
out  by  long  and  frequent  use,  and  now  becomes  so  nauseous,  by 
the  flattery  that  usually  attends  it,  that  it  is  no  wonder  if  funeral 
orations,  or  panegyrics,  are  more  considered  for  the  elegancy  of 
style,  and  fineness  of  wit,  than  for  the  authority  they  carry  with 
them  as  to  the  truth  of  matters  of  fact.  And  yet  I  am  not  hereby 
deterred  from  meddling  with  this  kind  of  argument,  nor  from 
handling  it  with  all  the  plainness  I  can ;  delivering  only  what  I 
myself  heard  and  saw,  without  any  borrowed  ornament.  I  do 
easily  foresee  how  many  will  be  engaged,  for  the  support  of  their 
impious  maxims,  and  immoral  practices,  to  disparage  what  I  am 
to  write.  Others  will  censure  it,  because  it  comes  from  one  of  my 
profession,  too  many  supposing  us  to  be  induced  to  frame  such 
discourses,  for  carrying  on  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  our  trade. 
Some  will  think  I  dress  it  up  too  artificially,  and  others,  that  I 
present  it  too  plain  and  naked. 

But  being  resolved  to  govern  myself  by  the  exact  rules  of  truth, 
I  shall  be  less  concerned  in  the  censures  I  may  fall  under.  It  may 
seem  liable  to  great  exception,  that  I  should  disclose  so  many 
things,  that  were  discovered  to  me,  if  not  under  the  seal  of  con- 
fession, yet  under  the  confidence  of  friendship ;  but  this  noble 
lord  himself  not  only  released  me  from  all  obligation  of  this  kind, 
when  I  waited  on  him  in  his  last  sickness,  a  few  days  before  he 
died,  but  gave  it  me  in  charge  not  to  spare  him  in  any  thing 
which  I  thought  might  be  of  use  to  the  living ;  and  was  not  ill 
pleased  to  be  laid  open,  as  well  in  the  worst,  as  in  the  best  and 
last  part  of  his  life ;  being  so  sincere  in  his  repentance,  that  he 
was  not  unwilling  to  take  shame  to  himself,  by  suffering  his  faults 
to  be  exposed  for  the  benefit  of  others. 


604  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

I  write  with  one  great  disadvantage,  that  I  cannot  reach  his 
chief  design,  without  mentioning  some  of  his  faults :  but  I  have 
touched  them  as  tenderly  as  the  occasion  would  bear :  and  I  am 
sure  with  much  more  softness  than  he  desired,  or  would  have  con- 
sented unto,  had  I  told  him  how  I  intended  to  manage  this  part. 
I  have  related  nothing  with  personal  reflections  on  any  others, 
concerned  with  him ;  wishing  rather  that  they  themselves  reflect- 
ing on  the  sense  he  had  of  his  former  disorders,  may  be  thereby 
led  to  forsake  their  own,  than  that  they  should  be  any  ways  re- 
proached by  what  I  write :  and  therefore  though  he  used  very  few 
reserves  with  me,  as  to  his  course  of  life,  yet  since  others  had  a 
share  in  most  parts  of  it,  I  shall  relate  nothing  but  what  more 
immediately  concerned  himself:  and  shall  say  no  more  of  his 
faults,  than  is  necessary  to  illustrate  his  repentance. 

The  occasion  that  led  me  into  so  particular  a  knowledge  of  him, 
was  an  intimation  given  me  by  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance, 
of  his  desire  to  see  me.  This  was  some  time  in  October,  1679, 
when  he  was  slowly  recovering  out  of  a  great  disease.  He  had 
understood  that  I  often  attended  on  one  well  known  to  him,  that 
died  the  summer  before.  He  was  also  then  entertaining  himself, 
in  that  low  state  of  his  health,  with  the  first  part  of  the  History  of 
the  Reformation,  then  newly  come  out,  with  which  he  seemed  not 
ill  pleased ;  and  we  had  accidentally  met  in  two  or  three  places 
some  time  before.  These  were  the  motives  that  led  him  to  call 
for  my  company.  After  I  had  waited  on  him  once  or  twice,  he 
grew  into  that  freedom  with  me,  as  to  open  to  me  all  his  thoughts, 
both  of  religion  and  morality ;  and  to  give  me  a  full  view  of  his 
past  life ;  and  seemed  not  uneasy  at  my  frequent  visits.  So  till 
he  went  from  London,  which  was  in  the  beginning  of  April,  I 
waited  on  him  often.  As  soon  as  I  heard  how  ill  he  was,  and  how 
much  he  was  touched  with  the  sense  of  his  former  life,  I  writ  to 
him,  and  received  from  him  an  answer,  that  without  my  know- 
ledge, was  printed  since  his  death ;  from  a  copy  which  one  of  his 
servants  conveyed  to  the  press.  In  it  there  is  so  undeserved  a 
value  put  on  me,  that  it  had  been  very  indecent  for  me  to  have 
published  it ;  yet  that  must  be  attributed  to  his  civility  and  way 
of  breeding :  and  indeed  he  was  particularly  known  to  so  few  of 
the  clergy,  that  the  good  opinion  he  had  of  me,  is  to  be  imputed 
only  to  his  unacquaintance  with  others. 

My  end  of  writing  is  so  to  discharge  the  last  commands  this 
lord  left  on  me,  as  that  it  may  be  effectual  to  awaken  those  who 


PREFACE.  605 

run  on  to  all  the  excesses  of  riot ;  and  that  in  the  midst  of  those 
heats,  which  their  lusts  and  passions  raise  in  them,  they  may  be  a 
little  wrought  on  by  so  great  an  instance,  of  one  who  had  run 
round  the  whole  circle  of  luxury ;  and  as  Solomon  says  of  himself, 
Whatsoever  Ms  eyes  desired,  he  kept  it  not  from  them  ;  and  withheld 
his  heart  from  no  joy.  But  when  he  looked  back  on  all  that  on  which 
he  had  wasted  his  time  and  strength,  he  esteemed  it  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit.  Though  he  had  both  as  much  natural  wit,  and 
as  much  acquired  by  learning,  and  both  as  much  improved  with 
thinking  and  study,  as  perhaps  any  libertine  of  the  age ;  yet  when 
he  reflected  on  all  his  former  courses,  even  before  his  mind  was 
illuminated  with  better  thoughts,  he  counted  them  madness  and 
folly.  But  when  the  powers  of  religion  came  to  operate  on  him, 
then  he  added  a  detestation  to  the  contempt  he  formerly  had  of 
them,  suitable  to  what  became  a  sincere  penitent ;  and  expressed 
himself  in  so  clear  and  calm  a  manner,  so  sensible  of  his  failings 
towards  his  Maker  and  his  Redeemer,  that  as  it  wrought  not  a 
little  on  those  that  were  about  him,  so,  I  hope  the  making  it 
public  may  have  a  more  general  influence,  chiefly  on  those  on 
whom  his  former  conversation  might  have  had  ill  effects. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  give  his  character  as  fully  as  I  could  take 
it :  for  I  who  saw  him  only  in  one  light,  in  a  sedate  and  quiet 
temper,  when  he  was  under  a  great  decay  of  strength  and  loss  of 
spirits,  cannot  give  this  picture  with  that  life  and  advantage  that 
others  may,  who  knew  him  when  his  parts  were  more  bright  and 
lively :  yet  the  composure  he  was  then  in,  may  perhaps  be  sup- 
posed to  balance  any  abatement  of  his  usual  vigour  which  the 
declination  of  his  health  brought  him  under.  I  have  written  this 
discourse  with  as  much  care,  and  have  considered  it  as  narrowly 
as  I  could.  I  am  sure  I  have  said  nothing  but  truth ;  I  have 
done  it  slowly,  and  often  used  my  second  thoughts 1  in  it,  not  being 
so  much  concerned  in  the  censures  which  might  fall  on  myself,  as 
cautious  that  nothing  should  pass,  that  might  obstruct  my  only 

1  Second  thoughts.~\  The  book  was  probably  revised  also  by  his  friend 
Tillotson,  when  Dean  of  Canterbury.  "  The  Dean  appears  to  have  revised 
and  improved  that  book,  since  it  concludes  almost  in  the  exact  words  of  his 
letter  to  Mr.  Nelson,  of  the  2d  of  August,  '  that  God  took  pity  on  the  earl, 
and  seeing  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance,  would  try  and  venture  him  no 
more  in  circumstances  of  temptation,  perhaps  too  hard  for  human  frailty.' " 
Birch's  Life  of  Abp.  Tillotson,  p.  73. 


606  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

design  of  writing,  which  is  the  doing  what  I  can  towards  the  re- 
forming a  loose  and  lewd  age.  And  if  such  a  signal  instance 
concurring  with  all  the  evidence  that  we  have  for  our  most  holy 
faith,  has  no  effect  on  those  who  are  running  the  same  course,  it 
is  much  to  be  feared  they  are  given  up  to  a  reprobate  sense. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 


JOHN  WILMOT,  earl  of  Rochester,  was  born  in  April  anno  Dom. 
1648.  His  father l  was  Henry,  earl  of  Rochester,  but  best  known 
by  the  title  of  the  lord  Wilmot,  who  bore  so  great  a  part  in  all  the 
late  wars,  that  mention  is  often  made  of  him  in  the  history ;  and 
had  the  chief  share  in  the  honour  of  the  preservation  of  his  majesty 
that  now  reigns,  after  Worcester  fight,  and  the  conveying  him 
from  place  to  place,  till  he  happily  escaped  into  France  :  but 
dying  before  the  king's  return,  he  left  his  son  little  other  inherit- 
ance 2,  but  the  honour  and  title  derived  to  him,  with  the  pretensions 
such  eminent  services  gave  him  to  the  king's  favour.  These  were 
carefully  managed  by  the  great  prudence  and  discretion  of  his 
mother  3,  a  daughter  of  that  noble  and  ancient  family  of  the  St. 

1  His  father.']  Henry,  second  viscount  Wilmot  of  Athlone  in  Ireland,  son  of 
Charles  the  first  viscount,  by  Mary,  daughter  of  sir  Henry  Colley,  widow  of 
Gerald  Moore,  viscount  Drogheda.  He  was  created  lord  Wilmot  of  Adder- 
bury  in  Oxfordshire,  by  Charles  I.  29th  June,  1C43;  and  by  Charles  II.  13th 
Dec.  1652,  he  was  made  earl  of  Rochester.  He  died  in  165Q. 

3  Inheritance, ,]  The  estate  at  Adderbury,  from  which  the  English  barony 
of  Wilmot  was  derived,  near  Banbury  in  Oxfordshire,  certainly  descended  to 
the  subject  of  this  memoir. 

3  His  mother.']  Anne,  daughter  of  sir  John  St.  John,  bart.  (by  Anne, 
daughter  of  sir  Thomas  Leighton) :  at  lord  Rochester's  birth  she  was  forty- 
seven  years  of  age.  She  was  the  widow  of  sir  Francis  Henry  Lee,  of  Quaren- 
don  and  Ditchley,  bart.  son  of  sir  Henry  Lee,  the  first  baronet,  by  Eleanor, 
daughter  of  sir  Richard  Wortley  of  Wortley  (afterwards  fourth  wife  of  Edward, 
second  earl  of  Manchester,  the  Parliamentarian  general).  By  sir  F.  H.  Lee 
she  had  had  two  sons :  i.  Sir  Henry  Lee,  third  baronet,  who  married  Anne,  a 
daughter  of  sir  John  Danvers  of  Cornbury,  the  regicide,  (see  Life  of  Herbert, 
p.  8,)  and  whose  daughter  and  heir  married  James  Bertie,  first  earl  of  Abing- 
don.  ii.  Sir  Francis  Henry  Lee,  fourth  baronet,  who  married  lady  Eliza- 
beth Pope,  heiress  of  Thomas,  earl  of  Downe  (afterwards  third  wife  of  Robert 
Bertie,  third  earl  of  Lindsey),  and  whose  son,  sir  Edward  Henry  Lee,  the  fifth 
baronet,  married  lady  Charlotte  Fitzroy,  a  natural  daughter  of  Charles  II.  (by 


608  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

Johns,  of  Wiltshire  ;  so  that  his  education  was  carried  on  in  all 
things  suitably  to  his  quality. 

When  he  was  at  school  he  was  an  extraordinary  proficient  at 
his  book  :  and  those  shining  parts  which  have  since  appeared  with 
so  much  lustre,  began  then  to  shew  themselves.  He  acquired  the 
Latin  to  such  perfection,  that  to  his  dying  day  he  retained  a  great 
relish  of  the  fineness  and  beauty  of  that  tongue,  and  was  exactly 
versed  in  the  incomparable  authors  that  writ  about  Augustuses 
time,  whom  he  read  often  with  that  peculiar  delight  which  the 
greatest  wits  have  ever  found  in  those  studies. 

When  he  went  to  the  university  the  general  joy  which  over-ran 
the  whole  nation  upon  his  majesty's  restoration,  but  was  not  regu- 
lated with  that  sobriety  and  temperance,  that  became  a  serious 
gratitude  to  God  for  so  great  a  blessing,  produced  some  of  its  ill 
effects  on  him.  He  began  to  love  these  disorders  too  much.  His 
tutor  was  that  eminent  and  pious  divine,  Dr.  [Walter]  Blandford, 
afterwards  promoted  to  the  sees  of  Oxford  and  Worcester ;  and 
under  his  inspection  he  was  committed  to  the  more  immediate 
care  of  Mr.  Phineas  Berry  [or  Bury],  a  fellow  of  Wadham  college, 
a  very  learned  and  good-natured  man ;  whom  he  afterwards  ever 
used  with  much  respect,  and  rewarded  him  as  became  a  great 
man.  But  the  humour  of  that  time  wrought  so  much  on  him, 
that  he  broke  off  the  course  of  his  studies ;  to  which  no  means 
could  ever  effectually  recall  him;  till  when  he  was  in  Italy,  his 
governor,  Dr.  Balfour,  a  learned  and  worthy  man,  now  a  celebrated 
physician  in  Scotland,  his  native  country,  drew  him  to  read  such 
books  as  were  most  likely  to  bring  him  back  to  love  learning  and 
study :  and  he  often  acknowledged  to  me,  in  particular  three  days 
before  his  death,  how  much  he  was  obliged  to  love  and  honour  this 
his  governor,  to  whom  he  thought  he  owed  more  than  to  all  the 
world,  next  after  his  parents,  for  his  great  fidelity  and  care  of  him, 

the  Duchess  of  Cleveland)  and  sister  of  the  first  Duke  of  Grafton.  Sir 
Edward  Henry  Lee  was  created  earl  of  Lichfield  in  16/4,  and  after  the  death 
of  his  uncle  lord  Rochester  (the  subject  of  this  memoir)  he  was  appointed 
comptroller  of  Woodstock  Park,  an  office  which  had  previously  been  held 
by  his  other  uncle,  sir  Henry  Lee.  This  statement  serves  to  shew  with  how 
much  caution  fiction,  purporting  to  be  historical,  should  be  read.  The  sir 
Henry  Lee  whom,  in  his  novel  of  "  Woodstock,"  sir  Walter  Scott  represents 
as  a  staunch  loyalist,  an  old  man  (a  revivification  of  the  sir  Henry  Lee  of 
Elizabeth's  time),  was  in  fact  a  young  man, — was  married  to  the  daughter  of 
a  regicide, — and  was  half  brother  of  the  earl  of  Rochester,  whose  very  person 
is  represented  in  the  novel,  as  unknown  to  the  Lee  family. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  609 

while  he  was  under  his  trust.  But  no  part  of  it  affected  him  more 
sensibly,  than  that  he  engaged  him  by  many  tricks  (so  he  expressed 
it)  to  delight  in  books  and  reading ;  so  that  ever  after  he  took 
occasion  in  the  intervals  of  those  woeful  extravagancies  that  con- 
sumed most  of  his  time,  to  read  much :  and  though  the  time  was 
generally  but  indifferently  employed,  for  the  choice  of  the  subjects 
of  his  studies  was  not  always  good,  yet  the  habitual  love  of  know- 
ledge, together  with  these  fits  of  study,  had  much  awakened  his 
understanding,  and  prepared  him  for  better  things,  when  his  mind 
should  be  so  far  changed  as  to  relish  them. 

He  came  from  his  travels  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age,  and 
appeared  at  court 4  with  as  great  advantages  as  most  ever  had. 
He  was  a  graceful  and  well-shaped  person,  tall  and  well  made,  if 
not  a  little  too  slender.  He  was  exactly  well  bred,  and  what  by 
a  modest  behaviour  natural  to  him,  what  by  a  civility  become 
almost  as  natural,  his  conversation  was  easy  and  obliging.  He 
had  a  strange  vivacity  of  thought,  and  vigour  of  expression :  his 
wit  had  a  subtilty  and  sublimity  both,  that  were  scarce  imitable. 
His  style  was  clear  and  strong  :  when  he  used  figures  they  were 
very  lively,  and  yet  far  enough  out  of  the  common  road.  He  had 
made  himself  master  of  the  ancient  and  modern  wit,  and  of  the 
modern  French  and  Italian,  as  well  as  the  English.  He  loved  to 
talk  and  write  of  speculative  matters,  and  did  it  with  so  fine  a 
thread,  that  even  they  who  hated  the  subjects  that  his  fancy  ran 
upon,  yet  could  not  but  be  charmed  with  his  way  of  treating  of 
them.  Boileau  among  the  French,  and  Cowley  among  the  Eng- 
lish wits,  were  those  he  admired  most.  Sometimes  other  men's 
thoughts  mixed  with  his  composures,  but  that  flowed  rather  from 
the  impressions  they  made  on  him  when  he  read  them,  by  which 
they  came  to  return  upon  him  as  his  own  thoughts,  than  that  he 

4  At  court.']  It  ought  to  be  remembered  that  at  this  time,  whilst  lord 
Rochester  was  a  mere  youth  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age,  Charles  II., 
whose  pernicious  example  he  followed,  was  of  the  mature  age  of  thirty-five, 
an  age  to  which  Rochester  never  attained.  The  duke  of  Buckingham  was 
still  older,  having  passed  his  thirty-seventh  year.  From  them  the  stripling 
earl  imbibed  much  evil.  "  He  was  naturally  modest,"  says  Burnet,  elsewhere, 
"  till  the  court  corrupted  him."  How  guilty  soever  may  have  been  his  life, 
he  has  been  unfairly  treated.  Many  have  believed  Hamilton's  fictions  to  be 
history.  Fielding  uses  his  name  as  a  by -word.  At  the  time  when  sir  Walter 
Scott  speaks  of  him  as  a  "  gay  young  nobleman,"  lord  Rochester  was  not 
four  years  old.  It  is  to  be  wished  that  his  penitence  were  as  well  known 
as  his  sinful  life  has  been  widely  blazoned. 

VOL.  iv.  R  r 


610  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

servilely  copied  from  any :  for  few  men  ever  had  a  bolder  flight 
of  fancy,  more  steadily  governed  by  judgment,  than  he  had.  No 
wonder  a  young  man  so  made,  and  so  improved,  was  very  accept- 
able in  a  court. 

Soon  after  his  coming  thither  he  laid  hold  on  the  first  occasion 
that  offered  to  shew  his  readiness 5  to  hazard  his  live  in  the  defence 
and  service  of  his  country.  In  winter  1665,  he  went  with  the 
earl  of  Sandwich  to  sea,  when  he  was  sent  to  lie  for  the  Dutch 
East- India  fleet ;  and  was  in  the  Revenge,  commanded  by  sir 
Thomas  Tiddiman,  when  the  attack  was  made  on  the  port  of 
Bergen,  in  Norway,  the  Dutch  ships  having  got  into  that  port. 
It  was  as  desperate 6  an  attempt  as  ever  was  made.  During  the 
whole  action,  the  earl  of  Rochester  shewed  as  brave  and  as  reso- 

5  His  readiness.']  Other  reasons  probably  actuated  him.  He  was,  out- 
wardly at  least,  in  disgrace  at  court.  In  May  1665,  when  scarcely  passed  seven- 
teen years  of  age,  an  age  now  considered  early  for  entrance  into  college,  lord 
Rochester  was  not  only  "  very  acceptable  in  a  court,"  but  had  carried  off  by 
force  the  lady  who  afterwards  became  his  wife :  may  we  not  suppose  that 
he  was  prompted  to  this  act?  Pepys  says  (28th  May  1665) — "to  my  lady 
Sandwich's,  where,  to  my  shame,  I  had  not  been  a  great  while.  Here 
upon  my  telling  her  a  story  of  my  lord  Rochester's  running  away  on 
Friday  night  last  with  Mrs.  Mallet,  the  great  beauty  and  fortune  of  the  north 
(south  ?},  who  had  supped  at  Whitehall  with  Mrs.  Stewart,  and  was  going 
home  to  her  lodgings  with  her  grandfather,  my  lord  Haley,  by  coach  :  and 
was  at  Charing  Cross,  seized  on  by  both  horse  and  footmen,  and  forcibly 
taken  from  him,  and  put  into  a  coach  with  six  horses,  and  two  women  pro- 
vided to  receive  her,  and  carried  away.  Upon  immediate  pursuit,  my  lord 
Rochester,  for  whom  the  king  had  spoke  to  the  lady  often,  but  with  no  success, 
was  taken  at  Uxbridge :  but  the  lady  is  not  yet  heard  of,  the  king  mighty 
angry,  and  the  lord  sent  to  the  Tower.  Hereupon  my  lady  did  confess  to 
me  as  a  great  secret,  her  being  concerned  in  this  story :  for  if  this  match 
breaks  between  my  lord  Rochester  and  her,  then,  by  the  consent  of  all  friends, 
my  lord  Hinchingbrooke  stands  fair,  and  is  invited.  She  is  worth,  and  will 
be  at  her  mother's  death,  who  keeps  but  a  little  from  her,  2500/.  per  annum. 
Pray  God  give  a  good  success  to  it !  But  my  poor  lady,  who  is  afraid  of  the 
sickness  [the  plague,  then  raging  in  London],  and  resolved  to  be  gone  into  the 
country,  is  forced  to  stay  in  town  a  day  or  two,  or  three,  about  it,  to  see  the 
event  of  it."  Diary,  vol.  iii.  p.  18.  Lady  Sandwich,  whose  anxiety  for  this 
match  with  the  heiress  overcame  her  fears  of  the  plague,  did  not  live  to  see 
her  grandson  Edward,  the  third  earl  of  Sandwich  (son  of  "my  lord  Hinch- 
ingbrooke"  mentioned  by  Pepys),  married  to  lord  Rochester's  daughter  by 
that  lady. 

*  As  desperate.']  Lord  Sandwich  described  the  port  to  Pepys  as  "  being  a 
place  just  wide  enough,  and  not  so  much  hardly,  for  ships  to  go  through  to 
it,  the  yard-armes  sticking  in  the  very  rocks." — Pepys'  Dinri/,  iii.  89. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  611 

lute  a  courage  as  was  possible.  A  person  of  honour  told  me  he 
heard  the  lord  Clifford,  who  was  in  the  same  ship,  often  magnify 
his  courage 7  at  that  time  very  highly.  Nor  did  the  rigours  of  the 

7  Magnify  his  courage.]  Lord  Rochester  has  left  an  account  of  this  action 
in  a  letter  addressed  to  his  mother :  it  is  now  first  printed,  from  the  auto- 
graph : 

"  From  the  coast  of  Norway,  amongst  the 
rocks,  aboard  the  Revenge. 

August  3rd. 
"MADAM 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  hard  for  your  ladyship  to  believe  that  it  hath  been 
want  of  opportunity,  and  not  neglect  in  me,  the  not  writing  to  your  ladyship 
all  this  while.  I  know  nobody  hath  more  reason  to  shew  and  express  their 
duty  to  you  than  I  have,  and  certainly  I  will  never  be  so  imprudent  as  to 
omit  the  occasions  of  doing  it.  There  have  many  things  past  since  I  writ 
last  to  your  ladyship :  we  had  many  reports  of  De  Ruyter  and  the  East- India 
fleet,  but  none  true  till  towards  the  26th  of  the  last  month  ;  we  had  certain 
intelligence  then  of  thirty  sail  in  Bergen,  in  Norway,  a  haven  belonging  to 
the  king  of  Denmark ;  but  the  port  was  found  to  be  so  little  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  the  great  ships  to  get  in,  so  that  my  lord  Sandwich  ordered  twenty 
sail  of  fourth  and  fifth  rate  frigates  to  go  in  and  take  them :  they  were 
commanded  by  sir  Thomas  Teddeman,  one  of  the  vice-admirals  :  it  was  not 
fit  for  me  to  see  any  occasion  of  service  to  the  king  without  offering  myself, 
so  I  desired  and  obtained  leave  of  my  lord  Sandwich  to  go  with  them,  and 
accordingly,  the  30th  of  this  month,  we  set  sail  at  six  o'clock  at  night,  and  the 
next  day  we  made  the  haven  Cruchfort  (on  this  side  of  the  town  15  leagues,) 
not  without  much  hazard  of  shipwreck,  for  (besides  the  danger  of  rocks,  which 
according  to  the  seamens  judgment,  was  greater  than  ever  was  seen  by  any  of 
them),  we  found  the  harbour  where  twenty  ships  were  to  anchor  not  big 
enough  for  seven,  so  that  in  a  moment  we  were  all  together,  one  upon 
another,  ready  to  dash  in  pieces,  having  nothing  but  bare  rocks  to  save  our- 
selves in  case  we  had  been  lost,  but  it  was  God's  great  mercy  we  got  clear ; 
and,  only  for  that,  we  had  no  human  probability  of  safety :  there  we  lay  all 
night,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  next  day  got  off  and  sailed  to  Bergen,  full  of 
hopes  and  expectations,  having  already  shared  amongst  us  the  rich  lading  of 
the  East-India  merchants,  some  for  diamonds,  some  for  spices,  others  for 
rich  silks,  and  I  for  shirts  and  gold,  which  I  had  most  need  of;  but  reckoning 
without  our  host  we  were  fain  to  reckon  twice,  however  we  came  bravely  into 
the  harbour,  in  the  midst  of  the  town  and  castles,  and  there  anchored  close 
by  the  Dutchmen.  We  had  immediately  a  message  from  the  governor,  full 
of  civility  and  offers  of  service,  which  was  returned  by  us,  Mr.  Montague 
being  the  messenger:  that  night  we  had  7  or  10  more,  which  signified 
nothing  but  mere  empty  delays.  It  grew  dark,  and  we  were  fain  to  lie  still 
until  morning :  all  the  night  the  Dutch  carried  above  200  pieces  of  cannon 
into  the  Danish  castles  and  forts,  and  we  were  by  morn  drawn  into  a  very  fair 
half-moon,  ready  for  both  town  and  ships  :  we  received  several  messages,  from 
break  of  day  until  four  o'clock,  much  like  those  of  the  over-night,  intending 

R  r  2 


612  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

season,  the  hardness  of  the  voyage,  and  the  extreme  danger  he 
had  been  in,  deter  him  from  running  the  like  on  the  very  next 
occasion :  for,  the  summer  following,  he  went  to  sea  again,  with- 
out communicating  his  design  to  his  nearest  relations.  He  went 
aboard  the  ship  commanded  by  sir  Edward  Spragge,  the  day 
before  the  great  sea  fight 8  of  that  year.  Almost  all  the  volunteers 
that  were  in  the  same  ship  were  killed.  Mr.  Middleton  (brother 
to  sir  Hugh  Middleton)  was  shot  in  his  arms.  During  the  action, 
sir  Edward  Spragge  not  being  satisfied  with  the  behaviour  of  one 
of  the  captains,  could  not  easily  find  a  person  that  would  cheer- 
fully venture  through  so  much  danger,  to  carry  his  commands  to 
that  captain.  This  lord  offered  himself  to  the  service ;  and  wont 
in  a  little  boat,  through  all  the  shot,  and  delivered  his  message, 
and  returned  back  to  sir  Edward  :  which  was  much  commended 
by  all  that  saw  it.  He  thought  it  necessary  to  begin  his  life 9 

nothing  but  delay  that  they  might  fortify  themselves  the  more,  which  being 
perceived,  we  delayed  no  more,  but,  just  upon  the  stroke  of  five,  we  let  fly  our 
fighting  colours,  and  immediately  fired  upon  the  ships,  who  answered  us  im- 
mediately, and  were  seconded  by  the  castles  and  forts  of  the  town :  upon 
which  we  shot  at  all,  and  in  a  short  time  beat,  from  one  of  their  greatest  forts, 
some  three  or  four  thousand  men  that  were  placed  with  small  shot  upon  us. 

But  the  castles  were  not  to  be for,  besides  the  strength  of  their  walls, 

they  had  so  many  of  the  Dutch  guns  (with  their  own)  which  played  in  the 
hulls  and  decks  of  our  ships,  that  in  three  hours  time  we  lost  some  500  men,  six 
captains,  our  cables  were  cut,  and  we  were  driven  out  by  the  wind,  which  was 
so  directly  against  us  that  we  could  not  use  our  fireships,  which  otherwise 
had  infallibly  done  our  business :  so  we  came  off,  having  beat  the  town  all 
to  pieces  without  losing  one  ship.  We  now  lie  off  a  little,  still  expecting  a 
wind,  that  we  may  send  in  fireships  to  make  an  end  of  the  rest.  Mr. 
Montague  and  Thorn.  Windham's  brother  were  both  killed,  with  one  shot, 
just  by  me ;  but  God  Almighty  was  pleased  to  preserve  me  from  any  kind  of 
hurt.  Madam  I  have  been  tedious,  but  beg  your  Ladyship's  pardon,  who  am 

"  Your  most  obedient 
"ROCHESTER." 

"  I  have  been  as  good  a  husband  as  I  could,  but,  in  spite  of  my  teeth,  have 
been  fain  to  borrow  money." 

8  Great  sea  fight.]  The  action  was  fought,  between  Dunkirk,  Ostend,  and 
Southwold  Bay,  on  the  first  and  second  of  June  1666.     The  English  were 
commanded  by  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  the  Dutch  by  De  Ruyter. 

9  To  begin  his  life.']  Lord  Rochester  was  as  yet  unmarried.     He  did  not 
obtain  the  hand  of  the  lady,  whom  he  had  "  run  away  with,"  until  the  end  of 
1666,  or  the  beginning  of  1667.     This  great  heiress  was  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  John  Malet  of  Enmore  in  Somersetshire,  by  Unton,  daughter  of  sir  Francis 
Hawley  of  Buckland,  in  the  same  county,  who  had  been  created  in  1646  an 
Irish  peer,  by  the  title  of  lord  Hawley  of  Donamore.     Count  Anthony  Ha- 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  613 

with  these  demonstrations  of  his  courage  in  an  element  and  way 
of  fighting,  which  is  acknowledged  to  be  the  greatest  trial  of 
clear  and  undaunted  valour. 

He  had  so  intirely  laid  down  the  intemperance  that  was  grow- 
ing on  him  before  his  travels,  that  at  his  return  he  hated  nothing 
more.  But  falling  into  company  that  loved  these  excesses,  he 
was,  though  not  without  difficulty,  and  by  many  steps,  brought 
back  to  it  again.  And  the  natural  heat  of  his  fancy,  being  in- 
flamed by  wine,  made  him  so  extravagantly  pleasant,  that  many, 
to  be  more  diverted  by  that  humour,  studied  to  engage  him 
deeper  and  deeper  in  intemperance ;  which  at  length  did  so  en- 
tirely subdue  him,  that,  as  he  told  me,  for  five  years  together  he 
was  continually  drunk  :  not  all  the  while  under  the  visible  effect 
of  it,  but  his  blood  was  so  inflamed,  that  he  was  not  in  all  that 
time  cool  enough  to  be  perfectly  master  of  himself.  This  led  him 
to  say  and  do  many  wild  and  unaccountable  things.  By  this,  he 
said,  he  had  broke  the  firm  constitution  of  his  health,  that  seemed 
so  strong,  that  nothing  was  too  hard  for  it ;  and  he  had  suffered 
so  much  in  his  reputation,  that  he  almost  despaired  to  recover  it. 
There  were  two  principles  in  his  natural  temper,  that  being 
heightened  by  that  heat,  carried  him  to  great  excesses :  a  violent 
love  of  pleasure,  and  a  disposition  to  extravagant  mirth.  The 
one  involved  him  in  great  sensuality :  the  other  led  him  to  many 
odd  adventures  and  frolics,  in  which  he  was  oft  in  hazard  of  his 
life :  the  one  being  the  same  irregular  appetite  in  his  mind,  that 
the  other  was  in  his  body,  which  made  him  think  nothing  divert- 
ing that  was  not  extravagant.  And  though  in  cold  blood  he  was 
a  generous  and  good-natured  man,  yet  he  would  go  far  in  his 
heats,  after  any  thing  that  might  turn  to  a  jest  or  matter  of  diver- 
sion. He  said  to  me  he  never  improved  his  interest  at  court, 
to  do  a  premeditate  mischief  to  other  persons.  Yet  he  laid  out 
his  wit  very  freely  in  libels  and  satires,  in  which  he  had  a  peculiar 
talent  of  mixing  his  wit  with  his  malice,  and  fitting  both  with 
such  apt  words,  that  men  were  tempted  to  be  pleased  with  them. 
From  thence  his  composures  came  to  be  easily  known  ;  for  few 
had  such  a  way  of  tempering  these  together  as  he  had ;  so  that 
when  any  thing  extraordinary  that  way  came  out,  as  a  child  is 

milton  calls  her  "  une  triste  heritiere,"  words  which,  flowing  from  his  peri, 
may  be  considered  praise,  as  signifying  that  she  took  no  part  in  the  profli- 
gate gaieties  of  Charles's  court.  A  portrait,  purporting  to  be  that  of  Lady 
Rochester,  has  been  engraved  under  the  title  given  to  her  by  Hamilton, 
but  it  is  known  to  be  not  genuine. 


614  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

fathered  sometimes  by  its  resemblance,  so  was  it  kid  at  his  door 
as  its  parent  and  author. 

These  exercises  in  the  course  of  his  life  were  not  always  equally 
pleasant  to  him.  He  had  often  sad  intervals  and  severe  reflec- 
tions on  them :  and  though  then  he  had  not  these  awakened  in 
him  from  any  deep  principle  of  religion,  yet  the  horror  that 
nature  raised  in  him,  especially  in  some  sicknesses  *,  made  him 
too  easy  to  receive  some  ill  principles,  which  others  endeavoured 
to  possess  him  with ;  so  that  he  was  too  soon  brought  to  set  him- 
self to  secure,  and  fortify  his  mind  against  that,  by  dispossessing 
it  all  he  could  of  the  belief  or  apprehensions  of  religion.  The 
licentiousness  of  his  temper,  with  the  briskness  of  his  wit,  dis- 
posed him  to  love  the  conversation  of  those  who  divided  their 
time  between  lewd  actions  and  irregular  mirth ;  and  so  he  came 
to  bend  his  wit,  and  direct  his  studies  and  endeavours,  to  support 
and  strengthen  these  ill  principles  both  in  himself  and  others2. 


1  In  some  sicknesses.~\  It  was  in  one  of  these,  that  he  thus  concludes  a 
letter  to  one  of  his  nearest  friends,  the  hon.  Henry  Savile,  eldest  son  of  the 
first  lord  Halifax.     The  autograph  is  in  the  British  Museum. 

"  But  it  is  a  miraculous  thing  (as  the  wise  have  it)  when  a  man,  half  in  the 
grave,  cannot  leave  off  playing  the  fool  and  the  buffoon.  But  so  it  falls  out 
to  my  comfort.  For  at  this  moment  I  am  in  a  damned  relapse,  brought  by 
a  fever,  the  stone,  and  some  ten  diseases  more,  which  have  deprived  me  of 
the  power  of  crawling,  which  I  happily  enjoyed  some  days  ago :  and  now,  I 
fear,  I  must  fall :  that  it  may  be  fulfilled  which  was  long  since  written  for 
instruction,  in  a  good  old  ballad : 

'  But  he  who  lives  not  wise  and  sober, 
Falls  with  the  leaf  still  in  October.' 

About  which  time,  in  all  probability,  there  may  be  a  period  added  to  the 
ridiculous  being  of  your  humble  servant,  "  ROCHESTER." 

Familiar  letters  written  by  the  Right  Hon.  John,  late  earl  of  Rochester  and 
several  other  persons  of  honour,  A.  D.  1697.  p.  13. — Unhappy  man!  Let  the 
reader  be  consoled  and  instructed  in  contrasting  with  the  above  an  extract 
from  the  letter  of  another  individual,  written  in  destitution  and  imprisonment, 
to  one  of  his  nearest  friends, — "  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered,  and  the  time 
of  my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have  fought  a  good  fight :  I  have  finished  my 
course ;  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown 
of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at  that 
day."  (2  Tim.  iv.  6,  &c.) 

2  In  himself  and  others.']  "  As  he  "  (Dr.  Assheton)  "  had  his  convincing  little 
books  ready  upon  all  occasions,  so  he  told  me,  particularly,  where  he  fell  in 
accidentally  with  daring  heretics,  atheists,  &c.,  he  gave  them  undeniable  con- 
futations, though  their  bold  assertions  might  strike  his  modesty  dumb,  as 
their  hellish  blasphemies  make  good  men  tremblingly  silent  :    like  tlu 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  615 

An  accident  fell  out  after  this,  which  confirmed  him  more 
in  these  courses.  When  he  went  to  sea  in  1665,  there  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  same  ship  with  him  Mr.  Montague 3  and  ano- 
ther gentleman 4  of  quality.  These  two,  the  former  especially, 
seemed  persuaded  that  they  should  never  return  into  England. 
Mr.  Montague  said,  "  he  was  sure  of  it :"  the  other  was  not  so 
positive.  The  earl  of  Rochester,  and  the  last  of  these,  entered 
into  a  formal  engagement,  not  without  ceremonies  of  religion, 
that  if  either  of  them  died,  he  should  appear,  and  give  the  other 
notice  of  the  future  state  if  there  was  any.  But  Mr.  Montague 
would  not  enter  into  the  bond.  When  the  day  came  that  they 
thought  to  have  taken  the  Dutch  fleet  in  the  port  of  Bergen, 
Mr.  Montague,  though  he  had  such  a  strong  presage  in  his  mind 
of  his  approaching  death,  yet  he  generously  staid  all  the  while  in 
the  place  of  greatest  danger.  The  other  gentleman  signalized 
his  courage  in  a  most  undaunted  manner,  till  near  the  end  of  the 
action ;  when  he  fell  on  a  sudden  into  such  a  trembling  that  he 

pious  and  learned  bishop  Stillingfleet,  his  friend,  of  whom  he  told  me  this 
passage  very  remarkable : 

"  That  he  once  met  the  mad  earl  of  Rochester ;  who  had  afterwards  won- 
derful grace  and  time  for  repentance,  a  miracle  not  to  be  expected  by  all 
wilful  presumptuous  sinners :  he  met  him  at  the  doctor's  patron's  table,  sir 
Walter  St.  John's,  [maternal  uncle  to  lord  Rochester ,]  whom  he  ever  honoured. 
There  did  the  vicious,  witty  earl,  so  boldly  assault  that  great  divine,  as  to 
confound  and  silence  him  with  atheistical  rant,  and  made  him  withdraw 
sorrowful  and  weeping, — So  timorous  and  compasionate  are  modest,  humble 
Christians;  as  so,  happily,  was  that  earl  humbled  himself  at  last."  —  The 
Christian  indeed  •  or,  the  exemplary  Life  of  Wm.  Assheton,  D.D.  Rector  of 
Beckenham,  Kent,  by  Thomas  Watts,  A.M.  p.  180.  8vo. 

3  Mr.   Montague.']    Edward,   eldest  son   of   Edward  lord    Montague  of 
Boughton,  and  brother  of  Ralph  first  duke  of  Montague.      He  had  been 
master  of  the  horse  to  Katharine  of  Braganza,  queen  of  Charles  II.,  but  was 
dismissed  in  May  1664.     He  took  the  command  of  a  ship  under  his  cousin 
the  earl  of  Sandwich,  and,  as  Denham  says, 

"  by  court  disaster, 
Dwindled  into  the  wooden  horse's  master." 

4  Another  gentleman.']  "Thorn.  Windham's  brother,"  (see  lord  Rochester's 
letter,  p.  612,  n.)  Which  brother  this  was  is  uncertain.    John,  eldest  son  of  sir 
John  Wyndham  of  Orchard  in  Somersetshire,  of  Silferton  in  Devonshire,  and 
of  Felbrigge  in  Norfolk,  married  Catharine,  daughter  of  Robert  Hopton,  of 
Witham  in  Somersetshire,  and  sister  and  co-heir  of  Ralph  lord  Hopton,  the 
royalist  general.   He  died  in  1649,  and  was  father  of  sir  Wm.  Wyndham,  bart., 
of  Thomas  Wyndham  of  Witham,  and  of  three  other  sons  that  died  unmarried. 
One  of  his  daughters,  Florence,  was  wife  of  sir  John  Malet,  knt.,  a  relation  of 
lord  Rochester's  wife. 


616  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

could  scarce  stand :  and  Mr.  Montague  going  to  him  to  hold  him 
up,  as  they  were  in  each  others  arms,  a  cannon-ball  killed  him 
outright,  and  carried  away  Mr.  Montague's  belly,  so  that  he  died 
within  an  hour  after.  The  earl  of  Rochester  told  me  that  these 
presages  they  had  in  their  minds  made  some  impression  on  him 
that  there  were  separated  beings :  and  that  the  soul,  either  by  a 
natural  sagacity,  or  some  secret  notice  communicated  to  it,  had  a 
sort  of  divination :  but  that  gentleman's  never  appearing  was  a 
great  snare  to  him,  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  Though  when  he 
told  me  this,  he  could  not  but  acknowledge,  it  was  an  unreason- 
able thing  for  him,  to  think  that  beings  in  another  state  were  not 
under  such  laws  and  limits,  that  they  could  not  command  their 
own  motions,  but  as  the  supreme  power  should  order  them :  and 
that  one  who  had  so  corrupted  the  natural  principles  of  truth  as 
he  had,  had  no  reason  to  expect  that  such  an  extraordinary  thing 
should  be  done  for  his  conviction. 

He  told  me  of  another  odd  presage  that  one  had  of  his  ap- 
proaching death  in  the  lady  Warre 5,  his  mother-in-law's  house. 
The  chaplain  had  dreamt  that  such  a  day  he  should  die ;  but 
being  by  all  the  family  put  out  of  the  belief  of  it,  he  had  almost 
forgot  it :  till  the  evening  before,  at  supper,  there  being  thirteen 
at  table 6,  according  to  a  fond  conceit  that  one  of  these  must  soon 
die,  one  of  the  young  ladies  pointed  to  him,  that  he  was  to  die. 
He,  remembering  his  dream,  fell  into  some  disorder:  and  the 
lady  Warre  reproving  him  for  his  superstition,  he  said,  "  he  was 
confident  he  was  to  die  before  morning ;"  but  he  being  in  perfect 
health,  it  was  not  much  minded.  It  was  Saturday  night,  and  he 
was  to  preach  next  day.  He  went  to  his  chamber  and  sat  up 
late,  as  appeared  by  the  candle,  and  he  had  been  preparing  his 
notes  for  his  sermon ;  but  was  found  dead  in  his  bed  the  ; 
morning. 

These  things,  he  said,  made  him  inclined  to  believe,  the  soul 
was  a  substance  distinct  from  matter :  and  this  often  returned 
into  his  thoughts.  But  that  which  perfected  his  persuasion  about 
it,  was,  that  in  the  sickness  which  brought  him  so  near  death. 
before  I  first  knew  him,  when  his  spirits  were  so  low  and  spent, 
that  he  could  not  move  nor  stir,  and  he  did  not  think  to  live  an 

5  The  lady  Warre,  his  mother-in-law.']  After  the  death  of  her  first  husband 
(John  Malet),  lady  Rochester's  mother  married  sir  Francis  Warre,  knt.,  of 
Hestercombe,  M.P.  for  Somersetshire,  who  died  in  1669- 

6  Thirteen  at  table.]  A  superstitious  feeling,  still  very  common.     It  took  its 
origin  from  the  number  present  at  the  Last  Supper  of  Our  Lord. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  617 

hour  ;  he  said,  his  reason  and  judgment  were  so  clear  and  strong 7, 
that,  from  thence,  he  was  fully  persuaded,  that  death  was  not  the 
spending  or  dissolution  of  the  soul ;  but  only  the  separation  of  it 
from  matter.  He  had  in  that  sickness  great  remorses  for  his 
past  life,  but  he  afterwards  told  me,  they  were  rather  general  and 
dark  horrors,  than  any  convictions  of  sinning  against  God.  He 
was  sorry  he  had  lived  so  as  to  waste  his  strength  so  soon ;  or 
that  he  had  brought  such  an  ill  name  upon  himself;  and  had  an 
agony  in  his  mind  about  it,  which  he  knew  not  well  how  to  ex- 
press :  but  at  such  times,  though  he  complied  with  his  friends  in 
suffering  divines  to  be  sent  for,  he  said,  he  had  no  great  mind  to 
it :  and  that  it  was  but  a  piece  of  his  breeding,  to  desire  them  to 
pray  by  him,  in  which  he  joined  little  himself. 

As  to  the  Supreme  Being,  he  had  always  some  impression  of 
one :  and  professed  often  to  me,  that  he  had  never  known  an 
entire  atheist,  who  fully  believed  there  was  no  God.  Yet  when 
he  explained  his  notion  of  this  Being,  it  amounted  to  no  more 
than  a  vast  power,  that  had  none  of  the  attributes  of  goodness  or 
justice,  we  ascribe  to  the  Deity.  These  were  his  thoughts  about 
religion,  as  himself  told  me. 

For  morality,  he  freely  owned  to  me,  that  though  he  talked  of 
it,  as  a  fine  thing,  yet  this  was  only  because  he  thought  it  a 
decent  way  of  speaking ;  and  that  as  they  went  always  in  cloaths, 
though  in  their  frolics  they  would  have  chosen  sometimes  to 
have  gone  naked,  if  they  had  not  feared  the  people ;  so  though 
some  of  them  found  it  necessary  for  human  life  to  talk  of 
morality,  yet  he  confessed  they  cared  not  for  it,  further  than 
the  reputation  of  it  was  necessary  for  their  credit,  and  affairs ; 
of  which  he  gave  me  many  instances ;  as  their  professing  and 
swearing  friendship,  where  they  hated  mortally ;  their  oaths  and 
imprecations  in  their  addresses  to  women,  which  they  intended 
never  to  make  good  ;  the  pleasure  they  took  in  defaming  innocent 

7  Clear  and  strong.']  "There  are  instances  of  mortal  diseases,  in  which 
persons,  the  moment  before  death,  appear  to  be  in  the  highest  vigour  of  life. 
They  discover  apprehension,  memory,  reason, — all  entire ;  with  the  utmost 
force  of  affection;  sense  of  a  character,  of  shame,  and  honour;  and  the 
highest  mental  enjoyments  and  sufferings  even  to  the  last  gasp :  and  these 
surely  prove  even  greater  vigour  of  life,  than  bodily  strength  does.  Now, 
what  pretence  is  there  for  thinking,  that  a  progressive  disease,  when  arrived 
to  such  a  degree,  I  mean  that  degree  which  is  mortal,  will  destroy  those 
powers,  which  were  not  impaired,  which  were  not  affected  by  it,  during  its 
whole  progress  quite  up  to  that  degree  ?"— Butler's  Analogy,  part  i.  chap.  i. 


618  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

persons ;  and  spreading  false  reports  of  some,  perhaps  in  revenge, 
because  they  could  not  engage  them  to  comply  with  their  ill 
designs.  The  delight  they  had  in  making  people  quarrel ;  their 
unjust  usage  of  their  creditors,  and  putting  them  off  by  any 
deceitful  promise  they  could  invent,  that  might  deliver  them 
from  present  importunity.  So  that  in  detestation  of  these  courses 
he  would  often  break  forth  into  such  hard  expressions  concerning 
himself,  as  would  be  indecent  for  another  to  repeat. 

Such  had  been  his  principles  and  practices  in  a  course  of  many 
years,  which  had  almost  quite  extinguished  the  natural  pro- 
pensities in  him  to  justice  and  virtue.  He  would  often  go  into 
the  country,  and  be  for  some  months  wholly  employed  in  study, 
or  the  sallies  of  his  wit;  which  he  came  to  direct  chiefly  to 
satire.  And  this  he  often  defended  to  me ;  by  saying  there  were 
some  people  that  could  not  be  kept  in  order,  or  admonished  but 
in  this  way.  I  replied,  that  it  might  be  granted  that  a  grave 
way  of  satire  was  sometimes  no  improfitable  way  of  reproof. 
Yet  they  who  used  it  only  out  of  spite,  and  mixed  lies  with  truth, 
sparing  nothing  that  might  adorn  their  poems,  or  gratify  their 
revenge,  could  not  excuse  that  way  of  reproach,  by  which  the 
innocent  often  suffer:  since  the  most  malicious  things,  if  wittily 
expressed,  might  stick  to  and  blemish  the  best  men  in  the  world ; 
and  the  malice  of  a  libel  could  hardly  consist  with  the  charity  of 
an  admonition.  To  this  he  answered,  a  man  could  not  write 
with  life,  unless  he  were  heated  by  revenge :  for  to  make  a  satire 
without  resentments,  upon  the  cold  notions  of  philosophy,  was  as 
if  a  man  would  in  cold  blood,  cut  men's  throats  who  had  never 
offended  him:  and  he  said,  the  lies  in  these  libels  came  often  in 
as  ornaments  that  could  not  be  spared  without  spoiling  the  beauty 
of  the  poem. 

For  his  other  studies,  they  were  divided  between  the  comical  ami 
witty  writings  of  the  ancients  and  moderns,  the  Roman  authors, 
and  books  of  physic,  which  the  ill  state  of  health  he  was  fallen 
into,  made  more  necessary  to  himself,  and  which  qualified  him 
for  an  odd  adventure,  which  I  shall  but  just  mention.  ]5i  in^ 
under  an  unlucky  accident,  which  obliged  him  to  keep  out  of  the 
way,  he  disguised  himself,  so  that  his  nearest  friends  could  not 
have  known  him,  and  set  up  in  Tower-street  for  an  Italian 
mountebank,  where  he  practised  physic  for  some  weeks  not  with- 
out success.  In  his  latter  years,  he  read  books  of  history  more. 
He  took  pleasure  to  disguise  himself,  as  a,  porter,  or  as  a 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  619 

sometimes  to  follow  some  mean  amours,  which,  for  the  variety  of 
them,  he  affected :  at  other  times,  merely  for  diversion,  he  would 
go  about  in  odd  shapes,  in  which  he  acted  his  part  so  naturally, 
that  even  those  who  were  in  the  secret,  and  saw  him  in  these 
shapes,  could  perceive  nothing  by  which  he  might  be  discovered. 

I  have  now  made  the  description  of  his  former  life,  and  prin- 
ciples, as  fully  as  I  thought  necessary,  to  answer  my  end  in 
writing ;  and  yet  with  those  reserves,  that  I  hope  I  have  given 
no  just  cause  of  offence  to  any.  I  have  said  nothing  but  what  I 
had  from  his  own  mouth,  and  have  avoided  the  mentioning  of  the 
more  particular  passages  of  his  life,  of  which  he  told  me  not  a 
few :  but  since  others  were  concerned  in  them,  whose  good  only 
I  design,  I  will  say  nothing  that  may  either  provoke  or  blemish 
them.  It  is  their  reformation,  and  not  their  disgrace,  I  desire. 
This  tender  consideration  of  others  has  made  me  suppress  many 
remarkable  and  useful  things,  he  told  me:  but,  finding  that, 
though  I  should  name  none,  yet  I  must  at  least  relate  such  cir- 
cumstances, as  would  give  too  great  occasion  for  the  reader  to 
conjecture  concerning  the  persons  intended,  right  or  wrong,  either 
of  which  were  inconvenient  enough,  I  have  chosen  to  pass  them 
quite  over.  But  I  hope  those  that  know  how  much  they  were 
engaged  with  him  in  his  ill  courses,  will  be  somewhat  touched 
with  this  tenderness  I  express  towards  them ;  and  be  thereby 
the  rather  induced  to  reflect  on  their  ways,  and  to  consider 
without  prejudice  or  passion  what  sense  this  noble  lord  had  of 
their  case,  when  he  came  at  last  seriously  to  reflect  upon  Ms 
own. 

I  now  turn  to  those  parts  of  this  narrative,  wherein  I  myself 
bore  some  share,  and  which  I  am  to  deliver  upon  the  observa- 
tions I  made,  after  a  long  and  free  conversation  with  him  for 
some  months.  I  was  not  long  in  his  company,  when  he  told  me, 
he  should  treat  me  with  more  freedom  than  he  had  ever  used  to 
men  of  my  profession.  He  would  conceal  none  of  his  principles 
from  me,  but  lay  his  thoughts  open  without  any  disguise ;  nor 
would  he  do  it  to  maintain  debate,  or  shew  his  wit,  but  plainly 
tell  me  what  stuck  with  him ;  and  he  protested  to  me,  that  he 
was  not  so  engaged  to  his  old  maxims,  as  to  resolve  not  to 
change,  but  that  if  he  could  be  convinced,  he  would  choose 
rather  to  be  of  another  mind.  He  said,  he  would  impartially 
weigh  what  I  should  lay  before  him,  and  tell  me  freely  when  it 
did  convince,  and  when  it  did  not.  He  expressed  this  disposition 


620  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

of  mind  to  me  in  a  manner  so  frank,  that  I  could  not  but  believe 
him,  and  be  much  taken  with  his  way  of  discourse :  so  we 
entered  into  almost  all  the  parts  of  natural  and  revealed  religion, 
and  of  morality.  He  seemed  pleased,  and  in  a  great  measure 
satisfied,  with  what  I  said  upon  many  of  these  heads :  and  though 
our  freest  conversation  was  when  we  were  alone,  yet  upon  several 
occasions,  other  persons  were  witnesses  to  it.  I  understood 
from  many  hands  that  my  company  was  not  distasteful  to  him, 
and  that  the  subjects  about  which  we  talked  most  were  not 
unacceptable:  and  he  expressed  himself  often  not  ill  pleased 
with  many  things  I  said  to  him,  and  particularly  when  I  visited 
him  in  his  last  sickness,  so  that  I  hope  it  may  not  be  altogether 
unprofitable  to  publish  the  substance  of  those  matters  about 
which  we  argued  so  freely,  with  our  reasoning  upon  them :  and 
perhaps  what  had  some  effects  on  him,  may  be  not  altogether 
ineffectual  upon  others.  I  followed  him  with  such  arguments  as 
I  saw  were  most  likely  to  prevail  with  him :  and  my  not  urging 
other  reasons,  proceeded  not  from  any  distrust  I  had  of  their  force, 
but  from  the  necessity  of  using  those  that  were  most  proper  for 
him.  He  was  then  in  a  low  state  of  health,  and  seemed  to  be 
slowly  recovering  of  a  great  disease.  He  was  in  the  milk-diet 8, 
and  apt  to  fall  into  hectical  fits8;  any  accident  weakened  him ; 
so  that  he  thought  he  could  not  live  long ;  and  when  he  went 
from  London,  he  said,  he  believed  he  should  never  come  to  town 
more.  Yet  during  his  being  in  town  he  was  so  well,  that  he 
went  often  abroad,  and  had  great  vivacity  of  spirit.  So  that  he 
was  under  no  such  decay,  as  either  darkened  or  weakened  his 
understanding;  nor  was  he  anyway  troubled  with  the  spleen, 
or  vapours,  or  under  the  power  of  melancholy.  What  he  uas 
then,  compared  to  what  he  had  been  formerly,  I  could  not  so 
well  judge,  who  had  seen  him  but  twice  before.  Others  have 
told  me  they  perceived  no  difference  in  his  parts.  This  I  inent  i<»n 
more  particularly,  that  it  may  not  be  thought  that  melaiR-ln.lv. 
or  the  want  of  spirits,  made  him  more  inclined  to  receive  any 
impressions :  for  indeed  I  never  discovered  any  such  thing  in  him. 

Having  thus  opened  the  way  to  the  heads  of  our  discourse.  1 
shall  next  mention  them.    The  three  chief  things  we  talked  about. 
were  morality -,  natural  religion,  and  revealed  religion,  Chi 
in  particular. 

8  Milk  diet  .  .  .  hectical  fits.']  See  the  second  letter  of  the  dowager  lady 
Rochester,  p.  668,  post. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  621 

For  morality  he  confessed,  he  saw  the  necessity  of  it,  both  for 
the  government  of  the  world,  and  for  the  preservation  of  health, 
life  and  friendship :  and  was  very  much  ashamed  of  his  former 
practices,  rather  because  he  had  made  himself  a  beast,  and 
brought  pain  and  sickness  on  his  body,  and  had  suffered  much 
in  his  reputation,  than  from  any  deep  sense  of  a  Supreme  Being, 
or  another  state :  but  so  far  this  went  with  him,  that  he  resolved 
firmly  to  change  the  course  of  his  life ;  which  he  thought  he 
should  effect  by  the  study  of  philosophy,  and  had  not  a  few  no 
less  solid  than  pleasant  notions  concerning  the  folly  and  madness 
of  vice  :  but  he  confessed  he  had  no  remorse  for  his  past  actions, 
as  offences  against  God,  but  only  as  injuries  to  himself  and  to 
mankind. 

Upon  this  subject,  I  shewed  him  the  defects  of  philosophy,  for 
reforming  the  world  :  that  it  was  a  matter  of  speculation,  which 
but  few  either  had  the  leisure,  or  the  capacity  to  enquire  into. 
But  the  principle  that  must  reform  mankind,  must  be  obvious 
to  every  man's  understanding.  That  philosophy  in  matters  of 
morality,  beyond  the  great  lines  of  our  duty,  had  no  very  certain 
fixed  rule,  but  in  the  lesser  offices  and  instances  of  our  duty  went 
much  by  the  fancies  of  men  and  customs  of  nations,  and  con- 
sequently could  not  have  authority  enough  to  bear  down  the 
propensities  of  nature,  appetite  or  passion :  for  which  I  instanced 
in  these  two  points ;  the  one  was,  about  that  maxim  of  the  Stoics, 
to  extirpate  all  sort  of  passion  and  concern  for  any  thing.  That, 
take  it  by  one  hand,  seemed  desirable,  because  if  it  could  be 
accomplished,  it  would  make  all  the  accidents  of  life  easy ;  but  I 
think  it  cannot,  because  nature  after  all  our  striving  against  it, 
will  still  return  to  itself;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  dissolved  the 
bond  of  nature  and  friendship,  and  slackened  industry,  which  will 
move  but  dully,  without  an  inward  heat :  and  if  it  delivered  a 
man  from  many  troubles,  it  deprived  him  of  the  chief  pleasures  of 
life,  which  rise  from  friendship. — The  other  was  ^concerning  the 
restraint  of  pleasure,  how  far  that  was  to  go.  Upon  this  he 
told  me  the  two  maxims  of  his  morality  then  were,  that  he  should 
do  nothing  to  the  hurt  of  any  other,  or  that  might  prejudice  his 
own  health :  and  he  thought  that  all  pleasure,  when  it  did  not 
interfere  with  these,  was  to  be  indulged,  as  the  gratification  of 
our  natural  appetites.  It  seemed  unreasonable  to  imagine  these 
were  put  into  a  man  only  to  be  restrained,  or  curbed  to  such  a 
narrowness.  This  he  applied  to  the  free  use  of  wine  and  women. 


622  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

To  this  I  answered,  that  if  appetites  being  natural,  was  an  argu- 
ment for  the  indulging  them,  then  the  revengeful  might  as  well 
allege  it  for  murder,  and  the  covetous  for  stealing ;  whose  appe- 
tites are  no  less  keen  on  those  objects ;  and  yet  it  is  acknowledged 
that  these  appetites  ought  to  be  curbed.  If  the  difference  is  urged 
from  the  injury  that  another  person  receives,  the  injury  is  as 
great,  if  a  man's  wife  is  defiled,  or  his  daughter  corrupted  :  and  it 
is  impossible  for  a  man  to  let  his  appetites  loose  to  vagrant  lusts, 
and  not  to  transgress  in  these  particulars :  so  there  was  no  curing 
the  disorders,  that  must  arise  from  thence,  but  by  regulating 
these  appetites.  And  why  should  we  not  as  well  think  that  God 
intended  our  brutish  and  sensual  appetites  should  be  governed  by 
our  reason,  as  that  the  fierceness  of  beasts  should  be  managed 
and  tamed  *,  by  the  wisdom,  and  for  the  use  of  man  ?  so  that  it  is 
no  real  absurdity  to  grant  that  appetites  were  put  into  men,  on 
purpose  to  exercise  their  reason  in  the  restraint  and  government 
of  them :  which  to  be  able  to  do,  ministers  a  higher  and  more 
lasting  pleasure  to  a  man,  than  to  give  them  their  full  scope  and 
range.  And  if  other  rules  of  philosophy  be  observed,  such  as  the 
avoiding  those  objects  that  stir  passion,  nothing  raises  higher 
passions  than  ungoverned  lust;  nothing  darkens  the  under- 
standing, and  depresses  a  man's  mind  more;  nor  is  any  tiling- 
managed  with  more  frequent  returns  of  other  immoralities,  such 
as  oaths  and  imprecations,  which  are  only  intended  to  compass 
what  is  desired.  The  expence  that  is  necessary  to  maintain  T 
irregularities  makes  a  man  false  in  his  other  dealings. 

All  this  he  freely  confessed  was  true. 

Upon  which  I  urged,  that  if  it  was  reasonable  for  a  man  to 
regulate  his  appetite  in  things  which  he  knew  were  hurtful  to 
him;   was  it  not  as  reasonable  for  God  to  prescribe  a  regulating 
of  those  appetites,  whose  unrestrained  course  did  produce  such 
mischievous  effects !     That  it  could  not  be  denied,  but  <!<>i. 
others  what  we  would  Jiave  others  do  unto  us,  was  a  just  rule. 
Those  men  then  that  knew  how  extreme  sensible  they  thems- 
would  be  of  the  dishonour  of  their  families  in  the  case  of  th«-ir 
wives  or  daughters,  must  needs  condemn  themselves,  for  <1 
that  which  they  could  not  bear  from  another.     And  if  the  j 
of  mankind,  and  the  entire  satisfaction  of  our  whole  life,  ought  to 
be  one  of  the  chief  measures  of  our  actions,  then  let  all  the  \\ 
judge,  whether  a  man  that  confines  his  appetite,  and  lives  con- 
1  And  tamed.']  James  iii.  7. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  623 

tented  at  home,  is  not  much  happier,  than  those  that  let  their 
desires  run  after  forbidden  objects.  The  thing  being  granted  to 
be  better  in  itself,  then  the  question  falls  between  the  restraint 
of  appetite  in  some  instances,  and  the  freedom  of  a  man's 
thoughts,  the  soundness  of  his  health,  his  application  to  affairs, 
with  the  easiness  of  his  whole  life,  whether  the  one  is  not  to  be 
done  before  the  other  ?  As  to  the  difficulty  of  such  a  restraint, 
though  it  is  not  easy  to  be  done  when  a  man  allows  himself  many 
liberties,  in  which  it  is  not  possible  to  stop  ;  yet  those  who  avoid 
the  occasions  that  may  kindle  these  impure  flames,  and  keep 
themselves  well  employed,  find  the  victory  and  dominion  over 
them  no  such  impossible,  or  hard  matter,  as  may  seem  at  first 
view.  So  that  though  the  philosophy  and  morality  of  this  point 
were  plain ;  yet  there  is  not  strength  enough  in  that  principle  to 
subdue  nature,  and  appetite.  Upon  this  I  urged,  that  morality 
could  not  be  a  strong  thing,  unless  a  man  were  determined  by  a 
law  within  himself ;  for  if  he  only  measured  himself  by  decency, 
or  the  laws  of  the  land,  this  would  teach  him  only  to  use  such 
caution  in  his  ill  practices,  that  they  should  not  break  out  too 
visibly ;  but  would  never  carry  him  to  an  inward  and  universal 
probity  :  that  virtue  was  of  so  complicated  a  nature,  that  unless 
a  man  came  entirely  within  its  discipline,  he  could  not  adhere 
stedfastly  to  any  one  precept :  for  vices  are  often  made  necessary 
supports  to  one  another.  That  this  cannot  be  done,  either 
steadily,  or  with  any  satisfaction,  unless  the  mind  does  inwardly 
comply  with,  and  delight  in  the  dictates  of  virtue ;  and  that  could 
not  be  effected,  except  a  man's  nature  were  internally  regenerated, 
and  changed  by  a  higher  principle  :  till  that  came  about  corrupt 
nature  would  be  strong,  and  philosophy  but  feeble:  especially 
when  it  struggled  with  such  appetites  or  passions  as  were  much 
kindled,  or  deeply  rooted  in  the  constitution  of  one's  body. 
This,  he  said,  sounded  to  him  like  enthusiam,  or  canting :  he 
had  no  notion  of  it,  and  so  could  not  understand  it.  He  com- 
prehended the  dictates  of  reason  and  philosophy,  in  which  as  the 
mind  became  much  conversant,  there  would  soon  follow,  as  he 
believed,  a  greater  easiness  in  obeying  its  precepts.  I  told  him 
on  the  other  hand,  that  all  his  speculations  of  philosophy  would 
not  serve  him  in  any  stead,  to  the  reforming  of  his  nature  and 
life,  till  he  applied  himself  to  God  for  inward  assistances.  It  was 
certain,  that  the  impressions  made  in  his  reason  governed  him,  as 
they  were  lively  presented  to  him ;  but  these  are  so  apt  to  slip 


624  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

out  of  our  memory,  and  we  so  apt  to  turn  our  thoughts  from 
them,  and  at  some  times  the  contrary  impressions  are  so  strong, 
that  let  a  man  set  up  a  reasoning  in  his  mind  against  them,  he 
finds  that  celebrated  saying  of  the  poet 2 : 

Video  meliora,  proboque : 


Deteriora  sequor. 

1  see  what  is  better,  and  approve  it ; 

But  follow  what  is  worse, 

to  be  all  that  philosophy  will  amount  to.  Whereas  those  who 
upon  such  occasions  apply  themselves  to  God,  by  earnest  prayer, 
feel  a  disengagement  from  such  impressions,  and  themselves 
endued  with  a  power  to  resist  them.  So  that  those  bonds  which 
formerly  held  them,  fall  off. 

This  he  said  must  be  the  effect  of  a  heat  in  nature :  it  was 
only  the  strong  diversion  of  the  thoughts,  that  gave  the  seeming 
victory,  and  he  did  not  doubt  but  if  one  could  turn  to  a  problem  in 
Euclid,  or  to  write  a  copy  of  verses,  it  would  have  the  same  effect. 

To  this  I  answered,  that  if  such  methods  did  only  divert  the 
thoughts,  there  might  be  some  force  in  what  he  said :  but  if  they 
not  only  drove  out  such  inclinations,  but  begat  impressions  con- 
trary to  them,  and  brought  men  into  a  new  disposition  and  habit 
of  mind ;  then  he  must  confess  there  was  somewhat  more  than  a 
diversion,  in  these  changes,  which  were  brought  on  our  minds  by 
true  devotion.  I  added,  that  reason  and  experience  were  the 
things  that  determined  our  persuasions :  that  as  experience 
without  reason  may  be  thought  the  delusion  of  our  fancy,  so 
reason  without  experience  had  not  so  convincing  an  operation  : 
but  these  two  meeting  together,  must  needs  give  a  man  all  the 
satisfaction  he  can  desire.  He  could  not  say,  it  was  unrea- 
sonable to  believe  that  the  Supreme  Being  might  make  s«»nu- 
thoughts  stir  in  our  minds  with  more  or  less  force,  as  1 1 « • 
pleased :  especially  the  force  of  these  motions  being,  for  the  most 
part  according  to  the  impression  that  was  made  on  our  brains  : 
which,  that  power,  that  directed  the  whole  frame  of  nature,  could 
make  grow  deeper  as  it  pleased.  It  was  also  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose God  a  being  of  such  goodness  that  he  would  give  his  a> 
ance  to  such  as  desired  it.  For  though  he  might  upon  & 
greater  occasions  in  an  extraordinary  manner  turn  some  people's 
minds ;  yet  since  he  had  endued  man  with  a  faculty  of  reason,  it 

*  The  poet.']  Ovid.  Metamorph.  vii.  15. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  625 

is  fit  that  men  should  employ  that,  as  far  as  they  could ;  and  beg 
his  assistance:  which  certainly  they  can  do.  All  this  seemed 
reasonable,  and  at  least  probable.  Now  good  men  who  felt  upon 
their  frequent  applications  to  God  in  prayer,  a  freedom  from  those 
ill  impressions,  that  formerly  subdued  them ;  an  inward  love  to 
virtue  and  true  goodness ;  an  easiness  and  delight  in  all  the  parts 
of  holiness,  which  was  fed  and  cherished  in  them  by  a  seriousness 
in  prayer,  and  did  languish  as  that  went  off;  had  as  real  a  per- 
ception of  an  inward  strength  in  their  minds,  that  did  rise  and 
fall  with  true  devotion,  as  they  perceived  the  strength  of  their 
bodies  increased  or  abated,  according  as  they  had  or  wanted  good 
nourishment. 

After  many  discourses  upon  this  subject  he  still  continued  to 
think  all  was  the  effect  of  fancy.  He  said,  that  he  understood 
nothing  of  it,  but  acknowledged  that  he  thought  they  were  very 
happy  whose  fancies  were  under  the  power  of  such  impressions ; 
since  they  had  somewhat  on  which  their  thoughts  rested  and  cen- 
tered. But  when  I  saw  him  in  his  last  sickness,  he  then  told  me, 
he  had  another  sense  of  what  we  had  talked  concerning  prayer 
and  inward  assistances. 

This  subject  led  us  to  discourse  of  God,  and  of  the  notion  of 
religion  in  general.  He  believed  there  was  a  Supreme  Being. 
He  could  not  think  the  world  was  made  by  chance,  and  the 
regular  course  of  nature  seemed  to  demonstrate  the  eternal  power 
of  its  author.  This,  he  said,  he  could  never  shake  off;  but  when 
he  came  to  explain  his  notion  of  the  Deity,  he  said,  he  looked  on 
it  as  a  vast  power  that  wrought  every  thing  by  the  necessity  of 
its  nature  ;  and  thought  that  God  had  none  of  those  affections  of 
love  or  hatred,  which  breed  perturbation  in  us,  and  by  conse- 
quence he  could  not  see  that  there  was  to  be  either  reward  or 
punishment.  He  thought  our  conceptions  of  God  were  so  low, 
that  we  had  better  not  think  much  of  him  :  and  to  love  God 
seemed  to  him  a  presumptuous  thing,  and  the  heat  of  fanciful 
men.  Therefore  he  believed  there  should  be  no  other  religious 
worship,  but  a  general  celebration  of  that  Being,  in  some  short 
hymn :  all  the  other  parts  of  worship  he  esteemed  the  inventions 
of  priests,  to  make  the  world  believe  they  had  a  secret  of  incensing 
and  appeasing  God  as  they  pleased.  In  a  word,  he  was  neither 
persuaded  that  there  was  a  special  providence  about  human  affairs, 
nor  that  prayers  were  of  much  use,  since  that  was  to  look  on  God 
as  a  weak  being,  that  would  be  overcome  with  importunities. 

VOL.  iv.  s  s 


626  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

And  for  the  state  after  death,  though  he  thought  the  soul  did  not 
dissolve  at  death ;  yet  he  doubted  much  of  rewards  or  punish- 
ments. The  one  he  thought  too  high  for  us  to  attain,  by  our 
slight  services  ;  and  the  other  was  too  extreme  to  be  inflicted  for 
sin 8.  This  was  the  substance  of  his  speculations  about  God  and 
religion. 

I  told  him  his  notion  of  God  was  so  low,  that  the  Supreme 
Being  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  nature.  For  if  that  Being  had 
no  freedom,  nor  choice  of  its  own  actions,  nor  operated  by  wisdom 
or  goodness,  all  those  reasons  which  led  him  to  acknowledge  a 
God,  were  contrary  to  this  conceit ;  for  if  the  order  of  the  uni- 
verse persuaded  him  to  think  there  was  a  God,  he  must  at  the 
same  time  conceive  him  to  be  both  wise  and  good,  as  well  as 
powerful,  since  these  all  appeared  equally  in  the  creation  ;  though 
his  wisdom  and  goodness  had  ways  of  exerting  themselves,  that 
were  far  beyond  our  notions  or  measures.  If  God  was  wise  and 
good,  he  would  naturally  love,  and  be  pleased  with  those  that 
resembled  him  in  these  perfections,  and  dislike  those  that  were 
opposite  to  him.  Every  rational  being  naturally  loves  itself,  and 
is  delighted  in  others  like  itself,  and  is  averse  from  what  is  not  so. 
Truth  is  a  rational  nature*^  acting  in  conformity  to  itself  in  all 
things ;  and  goodness  is  an  inclination  to  promote  the  happiness 
of  other  beings :  so  truth  and  goodness  were  the  essential  perfec- 
tions of  every  reasonable  being,  and  certainly  most  eminently  in 
the  Deity.  Nor  does  his  mercy  or  love  raise  passion  or  pertur- 
bation in  him ;  for  we  feel  that  to  be  a  weakness  in  ourselves, 
which  indeed  only  flows  from  our  want  of  power,  or  skill  to  <!<> 
what  we  wish  or  desire.  It  is  also  reasonable  to  believe  (iml 
would  assist  the  endeavour  of  the  good,  with  some  helps  suitable 
to  their  nature.  And  that  it  could  not  be  imagined,  that  those 
who  imitated  him,  should  not  be  especially  favoured  by  him  :  and 
therefore  since  this  did  not  appear  in  this  state,  it  was  most 
sonable  to  think  it  should  be  in  another,  where  the  rewards  shall 
be  an  admission  to  a  more  perfect  state  of  conformity  to  < 
with  the  felicity  that  follows  it;  and  the  punishments  should  !••• 
a  total  exclusion  from  him,  with  all  the  horror  and  darkness 


3  To  be  inflicted  for  sinJ]  "  King  Charles  II.  said  once  to  myself,  he  was  no 
atheist;  but  he  could  not  think  God  would  make  a  man  miserable,  o; 
taking  a  little  pleasure  out  of  the  way." — Burnet's  Hist,  of  his  Own  Time, 
vol.  i.  p.  93. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  627 

must  follow  that.  These  seemed  to  be  the  natural  results  of  such 
several  courses  of  life,  as  well  as  the  effects  of  divine  justice, 
rewarding  or  punishing.  For  since  he  believed  the  soul  had  a 
distinct  subsistence,  separated  from  the  body ;  upon  its  dissolu- 
tion there  was  no  reason  to  think  it  passed  into  a  state  of  utter 
oblivion  of  what  it  had  been  in  formerly ;  but  that  as  the  reflec- 
tions on  the  good  or  evil  it  had  done,  must  raise  joy  or  horror  in 
it ;  so  those  good  or  evil  dispositions  accompanying  the  departed 
souls,  they  must  either  rise  up  to  a  higher  perfection,  or  sink  to 
a  more  depraved  and  miserable  state.  In  this  life,  variety  of 
affairs  and  objects  do  much  cool  and  divert  our  minds ;  and  are, 
on  the  one  hand,  often  great  temptations  to  the  good,  and  give 
the  bad  some  ease  in  their  trouble  ;  but  in  a  state  wherein  the 
soul  shall  be  separated  from  sensible  things,  and  employed  in  a 
more  quick  and  sublime  way  of  operation,  this  must  very  much 
exalt  the  joys  and  improvements  of  the  good,  and  as  much 
heighten  the  horror  and  rage  of  the  wicked.  So  that  it  seemed 
a  vain  thing  to  pretend  to  believe  a  Supreme  Being,  that  is  wise 
and  good,  as  well  as  great,  and  not  to  think  a  discrimination  will 
be  made  between  the  good  and  bad,  which  it  is  manifest,  is  not 
fully  done  in  this  life. 

As  for  the  government  of  the  world,  if  we  believe  the  Supreme 
Power  made  it,  there  is  no  reason  to  think  he  does  not  govern  it : 
far  all  that  we  can  fancy  against  it,  is  the  distraction  which  that 
infinite  variety  of  second  causes,  and  the  care  of  their  concern- 
ments, must  give  to  the  first,  if  it  inspects  them  all.  But  as 
among  men  those  of  weaker  capacities  are  wholly  taken  up  with 
some  one  thing,  whereas  those  with  more  enlarged  powers  can, 
without  distraction,  have  many  things  within  their  care,  as  the 
eye  can  at  one  view  receive  a  great  variety  of  objects,  in  that 
narrow  compass,  without  confusion ;  so  if  we  conceive  the  divine 
understanding  to  be  as  far  above  ours,  as  his  power  of  creating  and 
framing  the  whole  universe  is  above  our  limited  activity :  we  will 
no  more  think  the  government  of  the  world  a  distraction  to  him  : 
and  if  we  have  once  overcome  this  prejudice,  we  shall  be  ready  to 
acknowledge  a  providence  directing  all  affairs ;  a  care  well  be- 
coming the  great  Creator. 

As  for  worshipping  him,  if  we  imagine  our  worship  is  a  thing 
that  adds  to  his  happiness,  or  gives  him  such  a  fond  pleasure  as 
weak  people  have  to  hear  themselves  commended  ;  or  that  our 
repeated  addresses  do  overcome  him  through  our  mere  importu- 

s  s  2 


628  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

nity  we  have  certainly  veiy  unworthy  thoughts  of  him.  The  true 
ends  of  worship  come  within  another  consideration,  which  is  this ; 
a  man  is  never  entirely  reformed,  till  a  new  principle  governs  his 
thoughts.  Nothing  makes  that  principle  so  strong,  as  deep  and 
frequent  meditations  of  God;  whose  nature,  though  it  be  far 
above  our  comprehension,  yet  his  goodness  and  wisdom  are  such 
perfections  as  fall  within  our  imagination :  and  he  that  thinks 
often  of  God,  and  considers  him  as  governing  the  world,  and  as 
ever  observing  all  his  actions,  will  feel  a  very  sensible  effect  of 
such  meditations,  as  they  grow  more  lively  and  frequent  with  him  ; 
so  the  end  of  religious  worship,  either  public  or  private,  is  to 
make  the  apprehensions  of  God  have  a  deeper  root  and  a  stronger 
influence  on  us.  The  frequent  returns  of  these  are  necessary  : 
lest  if  we  allow  of  too  long  intervals  between  them,  these  impres- 
sions may  grow  feebler,  and  other  suggestions  may  come  in  their 
room.  And  the  returns  of  prayer  are  not  to  be  considered  as 
favours  extorted  by  mere  importunity,  but  as  rewards  conferred 
on  men  so  well  disposed,  and  prepared  for  them :  according  to  the 
promises  that  God  has  made,  for  answering  our  prayers :  thereby 
to  engage  and  nourish  a  devout  temper  in  us,  which  is  the  chief 
root  of  all  true  holiness  and  virtue. 

It  is  true,  we  cannot  have  suitable  notions  of  the  divine  essence ; 
as  indeed  we  have  no  just  idea  of  any  essence  whatsoever :  since 
we  commonly  consider  all  things,  either  by  their  outward  figure, 
or  by  their  effects :  and  from  thence  make  inferences  what  their 
nature  must  be.  So  though  we  cannot  frame  any  perfect  ima^'- 
in  our  minds  of  the  divinity ;  yet  we  may,  from  the  disco v< 
God  has  made  of  himself,  form  such  conceptions  of  him,  as  may 
possess  our  minds  with  great  reverence  for  him,  and  beget  in  us 
such  a  love  of  those  perfections  as  to  engage  us  to  imitate  them. 
For  when  we  say  we  love  God ;  the  meaning  is,  we  love  that 
being  that  is  holy,  just,  good,  wise,  and  infinitely  perfect :  and 
loving  these  attributes  in  that  object,  will  certainly  carry  u 
desire  them  in  ourselves.  For  whatever  we  love  in  another,  we 
naturally,  according  to  the  degree  of  our  love,  endeavour  to  re- 
semble it.  In  sum,  the  loving  and  worshipping  God,  though  tlu  \ 
are  just  and  reasonable  returns  and  expressions  of  the  sens< 
have  of  his  goodness  to  us;  yet  they  are  exacted  of  us  not  only 
as  a  tribute  to  God,  but  as  a  mean  to  beget  in  us  a  conformity 
to  his  nature,  which  is  the  chief  end  of  pure  and  undefiled  reli- 
gion. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  629 

If  some  men  have  at  several  times  found  out  inventions  to 
corrupt  this,  and  cheat  the  world,  it  is  nothing  but  what  occurs 
in  every  sort  of  employment,  to  which  men  betake  themselves. 
Mountebanks  corrupt  physic ;  petty- foggers  have  entangled  the 
matters  of  property ;  and  all  professions  have  been  vitiated  by  the 
knaveries  of  a  number  of  their  calling. 

With  all  these  discourses  he  was  not  equally  satisfied.  He 
seemed  convinced  that  the  impressions  of  God  being  much  in 
men's  minds,  would  be  a  powerful  means  to  reform  the  world  : 
and  did  not  seem  determined  against  providence.  But  for  the 
next  state,  he  thought  it  more  likely  that  the  soul  began  anew, 
and  that  her  sense  of  what  she  had  done  in  this  body,  lying  in  the 
figures  that  are  made  in  the  brain,  as  soon  as  she  dislodged,  all 
these  perished,  and  that  the  soul  went  into  some  other  state  to 
begin  a  new  course. 

But  I  said  on  this  head,  that  this  was  at  best  a  conjecture, 
raised  in  him  by  his  fancy ;  for  he  could  give  no  reason  to  prove  it 
true :  nor  was  all  the  remembrance  our  souls  had  of  past  things 
seated  in  some  material  figures  lodged  in  the  brain :  though  it 
could  not  be  denied  but  a  great  deal  of  it  lay  in  the  brain.  That 
we  have  many  abstracted  notions  and  ideas  of  immaterial  things, 
which  depend  not  on  bodily  figures.  Some  sins,  such  as  falsehood 
and  ill  nature,  were  seated  in  the  mind,  as  lust  and  appetite  were 
in  the  body :  and  as  the  whole  body  was  the  receptacle  of  the 
soul,  and  the  eyes  and  ears  were  the  organs  of  seeing  and  hearing, 
so  was  the  brain  the  seat  of  memory :  yet  the  power  and  faculty 
of  memory,  as  well  as  of  seeing  and  hearing,  lay  in  the  mind  :  and 
so  it  was  no  unconceivable  thing  that  either  the  soul,  by  its  own 
strength,  or  by  the  means  of  some  subtler  organs,  which  might 
be  fitted  for  it  in  another  state,  should  still  remember  as  well  as 
think.  But  indeed  we  know  so  little  of  the  nature  of  our  souls, 
that  it  is  a  vain  thing  for  us  to  raise  an  hypothesis  out  of  the  con- 
jectures we  have  about  it,  or  to  reject  one,  because  of  some  diffi- 
culties that  occur  to  us :  since  it  is  as  hard  to  understand  how  we 
remember  things  now,  as  how  we  shall  do  it  in  another  state ; 
only  we  are  sure  we  do  it  now ;  and  so  we  shall  be  then,  when 
we  do  it. 

When  I  pressed  him  with  the  secret  joys  that  a  good  man  felt, 
particularly  as  he  drew  near  death,  and  the  horrors  of  ill  men, 
especially  at  that  time ;  he  was  willing  to  ascribe  it  to  the  impres- 
sions they  had  from  their  education. 


630  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

But  he  often  confessed,  that  whether  the  business  of  religion 
was  true  or  not,  he  thought  those  who  had  the  persuasions  of  it, 
and  lived  so,  that  they  had  quiet  in  their  consciences,  and  believed 
God  governed  the  world,  and  acquiesced  in  his  providence,  and 
had  the  hope  of  an  endless  blessedness  in  another  state, — the 
happiest  men  in  the  world :  and  said,  he  would  give  all  that  he 
was  master  of,  to  be  under  those  persuasions,  and  to  have  the 
supports  and  joys  that  must  needs  flow  from  them. 

I  told  him  the  main  root  of  all  corruptions  in  men^s  principles 
was  their  ill  life  ;  which,  as  it  darkened  their  minds,  and  disabled 
them  from  discerning  better  things ;  so  it  made  it  necessary  for 
them  to  seek  out  such  opinions  as  might  give  them  ease  from  those 
clamours,  that  would  otherwise  have  been  raised  within  them. 

He  did  not  deny  but  that  after  the  doing  of  some  things,  he 
felt  great  and  severe  challenges  within  himself:  but  he  said,  he 
felt  not  these  after  some  others  which  I  would  perhaps  call  far 
greater  sins,  than  those  that  affected  him  more  sensibly. 

This,  I  said,  might  flow  from  the  disorders  he  had  cast  himself 
into,  which  had  corrupted  his  judgment,  and  vitiated  his  taste  of 
things :  and  by  his  long  continuance  in,  and  frequent  repeating  of 
some  immoralities,  he  had  made  them  so  familiar  to  him,  that 
they  were  become  as  it  were  natural :  and  then  it  was  no  wonder 
if  he  had  not  so  exact  a  sense  of  what  was  good  or  evil ;  as  a 
feverish  man  cannot  judge  of  tastes. 

He  did  acknowledge  the  whole  system  of  religion,  if  believed, 
was  a  greater  foundation  of  quiet  than  any  other  thing  whatso- 
ever :  for  all  the  quiet  he  had  in  his  mind,  was,  that  he  could  not 
think  so  good  a  being  as  the  Deity  would  make  him  miserable. 

I  asked  if,  when  by  the  ill  course  of  his  life  he  had  brought  so 
many  diseases  on  his  body,  he  could  blame  God  for  it;  or  ex- 
pect that  he  should  deliver  him  from  them  by  a  miracle. 

He  confessed  there  was  no  reason  for  that. 

I  then  urged,  that  if  sin  should  cast  the  mind  by  a  natural 
effect  into  endless  horrors  and  agonies,  which  being  seated  in  a 
being  not  subject  to  death,  must  last  for  ever,  unless  some  mira- 
culous power  interposed,  could  he  accuse  God  for  that  which 
the  effect  of  his  own  choice  and  ill  life  ? 

He  said  they  were  happy  that  believed  ;  for  it  was  not  in  e\ 
man's  power. 

And  upon  this  we  discoursed  long  about  revealed  religion. 

He  said,  he  did  not  understand  that  business  of  inspiration.   1 1  •  • 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  631 

believed  the  penmen  of  the  Scriptures  hadheats  and  honesty,  and  so 
writ ;  but  could  not  comprehend  how  G  od  should  reveal  his  secrets 
to  mankind.  Why  was  not  man  made  a  creature  more  disposed 
for  religion,  and  better  illuminated  ?  He  could  not  apprehend 
how  there  should  be  any  corruption  in  the  nature  of  man,  or  a 
lapse  derived  from  Adam.  God's  communicating  his  mind  to  one 
man,  was  the  putting  it  in  his  power  to  cheat  the  world.  For 
prophesies  and  miracles,  the  world  had  been  always  full  of  strange 
stories  :  for  the  boldness  and  cunning  of  contrivers  meeting  with 
the  simplicity  and  credulity  of  the  people,  things  were  easily  re- 
ceived ;  and  being  once  received,  passed  down  without  contradic- 
tion. The  incoherences  of  style  in  the  Scriptures,  the  odd  tran- 
sitions, the  seeming  contradictions,  chiefly  about  the  order  of 
time,  the  cruelties  enjoined  the  Israelites  in  destroying  the  Ca- 
naanites,  circumcision,  and  many  other  rites  of  the  Jewish  worship, 
seemed  to  him  unsuitable  to  the  divine  nature  :  and  the  first  three 
chapters  of  Genesis,  he  thought,  could  not  be  true,  unless  they 
were  parables. 

This  was  the  substance  of  what  he  excepted  to  revealed  religion 
in  general ;  and  to  the  Old  Testament  in  particular. 

I  answered  to  all  this,  that  believing  a  thing  upon  the  testi- 
mony of  another,  in  other  matters  where  there  was  no  reason  to 
suspect  the  testimony,  chiefly  where  it  was  confirmed  by  other 
circumstances,  was  not  only  a  reasonable  thing,  but  it  was  the 
hinge  on  which  all  the  government  and  justice  in  the  world  de- 
pended ;  since  all  courts  of  justice  proceed  upon  the  evidence 
given  by  witnesses ;  for  the  use  of  writings  is  but  a  thing  more 
lately  brought  into  the  world.  So  then  if  the  credibility  of  the 
thing,  the  innocence  and  disinterestedness  of  the  witnesses,  the 
number  of  them,  and  the  publickest  confirmations  that  could  pos- 
sibly be  given,  do  concur  to  persuade  us  of  any  matter  of  fact,  it 
is  a  vain  thing  to  say,  because  it  is  possible  for  so  many  men  to 
agree  in  a  lie,  that  therefore  these  have  done  it.  In  all  other 
things  a  man  gives  his  assent  when  the  credibility  is  strong  on 
the  one  side,  and  there  appears  nothing  on  the  other  side  to  ba- 
lance it.  So  such  numbers  agreeing  in  their  testimony  to  these 
miracles ;  for  instance,  of  our  Saviour's  calling  Lazarus  out  of 
the  grave,  the  fourth  day  after  he  was  buried,  and  his  own  rising 
again,  after  he  was  certainly  dead ;  if  there  had  been  never  so 
many  impostures  in  the  world,  no  man  can  with  any  reasonable 
colour  pretend  this  was  one.  We  find  both  by  the  Jewish  and 


632  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

Roman  writers  that  lived  in  that  time,  that  our  Saviour  was  cru- 
cified :  and  that  all  his  disciples  and  followers  believed  certainly 
that  he  rose  again.  They  believed  this  upon  the  testimony  of 
the  apostles,  and  of  many  hundreds  who  saw  it,  and  died  con- 
firming it.  They  went  about  to  persuade  the  world  of  it,  with 
great  zeal,  though  they  knew  they  were  to  get  nothing  by  it,  but 
reproach  and  sufferings :  and,  by  many  wonders  which  they 
wrought,  they  confirmed  their  testimony.  Now  to  avoid  all  this, 
by  saying  it  is  possible  this  might  be  a  contrivance,  and  to  give  no 
presumption  to  make  it  so  much  as  probable,  that  it  was  so,  is  in 
plain  English  to  say,  we  are  resolved,  let  tlie  evidence  le  what  it  will, 
we  will  not  believe  it. 

He  said,  if  a  man  says  he  cannot  believe,  what  help  is  there  ? 
for  he  was  not  master  of  his  own  belief,  and  believing  was  at 
highest  but  a  probable  opinion. 

To  this  I  answered  that  if  a  man  will  let  a  wanton  conceit  pos- 
sess his  fancy  against  these  things,  and  never  consider  the  evi- 
dence for  religion  on  the  other  hand,  but  reject  it  upon  a  slight  view 
of  it,  he  ought  not  to  say  he  cannot,  but  he  will  not  believe :  and 
while  a  man  lives  an  ill  course  of  life,  he  is  not  fitly  qualified  to 
examine  the  matter  aright.  Let  him  grow  calm  and  virtuous, 
and  upon  due  application  examine  things  fairly,  and  then  let  him 
pronounce  according  to  his  conscience,  if,  to  take  it  at  its  lowest, 
the  reasons  on  the  one  hand  are  not  much  stronger  than  they  are 
on  the  other.  For  I  found  he  was  so  possessed  with  the  general 
conceit,  that  a  mixture  of  knaves  and  fools  had  made  all  extraor- 
dinary things  be  easily  believed,  that  it  carried  him  away  to  deter- 
mine the  matter,  without  so  much  as  looking  on  the  historical 
evidence  for  the  truth  of  Christianity,  which  he  had  not  inquired 
into,  but  had  bent  all  his  wit  and  study  to  the  support  of  the 
other  side.  As  for  that,  that  believing  is  at  best  but  an  opinion ; 
if  the  evidence  be  but  probable,  it  is  so :  but  if  it  be  such  that  it 
cannot  be  questioned,  it  grows  as  certain  as  knowledge:  for  \\< 
are  no  less  certain  that  there  is  a  great  town  called  Constanti- 
nople, the  seat  of  the  Ottoman  empire,  than  that  there  is  another 
called  London.  We  as  little  doubt  that  queen  Elizabeth  once 
reigned,  as  that  king  Charles  now  reigns  in  England.  So  that 
believing  may  be  as  certain,  and  as  little  subject  to  doubting,  as 
seeing  or  knowing. 

Tin  iv  arr  tw<>  sorts  of  believing  divine  matters ;  the  on< 
wrought  in  us  by  our  comparing  all  the  evidences  of  matter  of 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  633 

fact,  for  the  confirmation  of  revealed  religion,  with  the  prophecies 
in  the  scripture ;  where  things  were  punctually  predicted,  some 
ages  before  their  completion ;  not  in  dark  and  doubtful  words, 
uttered  like  oracles,  which  might  bend  to  any  event,  but  in  plain 
terms ;  as  the  foretelling  that  Cyrus  by  name  should  send  the 
Jews  back  from  the  captivity,  after  the  fixed  period  of  seventy 
years ;  the  history  of  the  Syrian  and  Egyptian  kings  so  punc- 
tually foretold  by  Daniel ;  and  the  prediction  of  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  with  many  circumstances  relating  to  it,  made  by 
our  Saviour ;  joining  these  to  the  excellent  rule  and  design  of  the 
scripture  in  matters  of  morality,  it  is  at  least  as  reasonable  to 
believe  this  as  any  thing  else  in  the  world.  Yet  such  a  believing 
as  this,  is  only  a  general  persuasion  in  the  mind,  which  has  not 
that  effect,  till  a  man,  applying  himself  to  the  directions  set  down 
in  the  Scriptures  (which  upon  such  evidence  cannot  be  denied,  to 
be  as  reasonable,  as  for  a  man  to  follow  the  prescriptions  of  a 
learned  physician,  and  when  the  rules  are  both  good  and  easy,  to 
submit  to  them  for  the  recovering  of  his  health),  and  by  following 
these,  finds  a  power  entering  within  him,  that  frees  him  from  the 
slavery  of  his  appetites  and  passions,  that  exalts  his  mind  above 
the  accidents  of  life,  and  spreads  an  inward  purity  in  his  heart, 
from  which  a  serene  and  calm  joy  arises  within  him :  and  good 
men  by  the  efficacy  these  methods  have  upon  them,  and  from  the 
returns  of  their  prayers,  and  other  endeavours,  grow  assured  that 
these  things  are  true,  and  answerable  to  the  promises  they  find 
registered  in  Scripture. 

All  this,  he  said,  might  be  fancy. 

But  to  this  I  answered,  that  as  it  were  unreasonable  to  tell  a 
man  that  is  abroad,  and  knows  he  is  awake,  that  perhaps  he  is  in 
a  dream,  and  in  his  bed,  and  only  thinks  he  is  abroad,  or  that  as 
some  go  about  in  their  sleep,  so  he  may  be  asleep  still :  so  good 
and  religious  men  know,  though  others  may  be  abused  by  their 
fancies,  that  they  are  under  no  such  deception  ;  and  find  they  are 
neither  hot  nor  enthusiastical,  but  under  the  power  of  calm  and 
clear  principles. 

All  this  he  said  he  did  not  understand,  and  that  it  was  to  assert 
or  beg  the  thing  in  question,  which  he  could  not  comprehend. 

As  for  the  possibility  of  revelation,  it  was  a  vain  thing  to  deny 
it.  For  as  God  gives  us  the  sense  of  seeing  material  objects  by 
our  eyes,  and  opened  in  some  a  capacity  of  apprehending  high  and 
sublime  things,  of  which  other  men  seemed  utterly  incapable ;  so 


634  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

it  was  a  weak  assertion  that  God  cannot  awaken  a  power  in  some 
men's  minds,  to  apprehend  and  know  some  things,  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  others  are  not  capable  of  it.  This  is  not  half  so  incre- 
dible to  us  as  sight  is  to  a  blind  man,  who  yet  may  be  convinced 
there  is  a  strange  power  of  seeing  that  governs  men,  of  which  he 
finds  himself  deprived.  As  for  the  capacity  put  into  such  men's 
hands  to  deceive  the  world,  we  are  at  the  same  time  to  consider 
that  besides  the  probity  of  their  tempers,  it  cannot  be  thought 
but  God  can  so  forcibly  bind  up  a  man  in  some  things  that  it 
should  not  be  in  his  power  to  deliver  them  otherwise  than  as  lie 
gives  him  in  commission :  besides  the  confirmations  of  miracles 
are  a  divine  credential  to  warrant  such  persons  in  what  they  deli- 
ver to  the  world :  which  cannot  be  imagined  can  be  joined  to  a 
lie,  since  this  were  to  put  the  omnipotence  of  God  to  attest  that 
which  no  honest  man  will  do. 

For  the  business  of  the  fall  of  man,  and  other  things  of 
which  we  cannot  perhaps  give  ourselves  a  perfect  account ;  wo 
who  cannot  fathom  the  secrets  of  the  counsel  of  God,  do  u-ry 
unreasonably  take  on  us  to  reject  an  excellent  system  of  good 
and  holy  rules,  because  we  cannot  satisfy  ourselves  about  sonic 
difficulties  in  them.  Common  experience  tells  us,  there  is  a 
great  disorder  in  our  natures,  which  is  not  easily  rectified  :  all 
philosophers  were  sensible  of  it,  and  every  man  that  designs  to 
govern  himself  by  reason,  feels  the  struggle  between  it  and 
nature  :  so  that  it  is  plain,  there  is  a  lapse  of  the  high  po\u  is 
of  the  soul. 

But  why,  said  he,  could  not  this  be  rectified  by  some  plain 
rules  given ;  but  men  must  come  and  shew  a  trick  to  persuade 
the  world  they  speak  to  them  in  the  name  of  God  I 

I  answered,  that  religion  being  a  design  to  recover  and  8 
mankind,  was  to  be  so  opened  as  to  awaken  and  work  upon  all 
sorts  of  people  :  and  generally  men  of  a  simplicity  of  mind  were 
those  that  were  the  fittest  objects  for  God  to  shew  his  favour  to  ; 
therefore  it  was   necessary  that  messengers  sent  from   In 
should  appear  with  such  alarming  evidences,  as  might  awaken  tlii 
world,  and  prepare  them  by  some  astonishing  signs,  to  listen  to 
the  doctrine  they  were  to  deliver.     Philosophy,  that  was  only  a 
matter  of  fine  speculation,  had  few  votaries  :  and  as  there  was  no 
authority  in  it  to  bind  the  world  to  believe  its  dictates,  so  they 
worn  only  received  by  some  of  nobler  and  refined  natures,  \slio 
could  apply  themselves  to  and  delight  in  such  notions.     But  true 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  635 

religion  was  to  be  built  on  a  foundation,  that  should  carry  more 
weight  on  it,  and  to  have  such  convictions,  as  might  not  only 
reach  those  who  were  already  disposed  to  receive  them,  but  rouse 
up  such  as  without  great  and  sensible  excitation  would  have  other- 
wise slept  on  in  their  ill  courses. 

Upon  this  and  some  such  occasions,  I  told  him,  I  saw  the  ill 
use  he  made  of  his  wit,  by  which  he  slurred  the  gravest  things 
with  a  slight  dash  of  his  fancy :  and  the  pleasure  he  found  in  such 
wanton  expressions,  as  calling  the  doing  of  miracles,  the  shelving 
of  a  trick,  did  really  keep  him  from  examining  them  with  that 
care  which  such  things  required. 

For  the  Old  Testament,  we  are  so  remote  from  that  time,  we 
have  so  little  knowledge  of  the  language  in  which  it  was  writ, 
have  so  imperfect  an  account  of  the  history  of  those  ages,  know 
nothing  of  their  customs,  forms  of  speech,  and  the  several  periods 
they  might  have  by  which  they  reckoned  their  time,  that  it  is 
rather  a  wonder  we  should  understand  so  much  of  it,  than  that 
many  passages  in  it  should  be  so  dark  to  us.  The  chief  use  it 
has  to  us  Christians,  is,  that,  from  writings  which  the  Jews  ac- 
knowledge to  be  divinely  inspired,  it  is  manifest  the  Messias  was 
promised  before  the  destruction  of  their  temple:  which  being 
done  long  ago  ;  and  these  prophecies  agreeing  to  our  Saviour,  and 
to  no  other,  here  is  a  great  confirmation  given  to  the  Gospel. 
But,  though  many  things  in  these  books  could  not  be  understood 
by  us,  who  live  above  three  thousand  years  after  the  chief  of  them 
were  written,  it  is  no  such  extraordinary  matter. 

For  that  of  the  destruction  of  the  Canaanites  by  the  Israelites, 
it  is  to  be  considered,  that  if  God  had  sent  a  plague  among  them 
all,  that  could  not  have  been  found  fault  with.  If  then  God  had 
a  right  to  take  away  their  lives,  without  injustice  or  cruelty,  he 
had  a  right  to  appoint  others  to  do  it,  as  well  as  to  execute  it  by 
a  more  immediate  way:  and  the  taking  away  people  by  the 
sword,  is  a  much  gentler  way  of  dying,  than  to  be  smitten  with  a 
plague  or  a  famine.  And  for  the  children  that  were  innocent  of 
their  fathers'  faults,  God  could  in  another  state  make  that  up  to 
them.  So  all  the  difficulty  is,  why  were  the  Israelites  com- 
manded to  execute  a  thing  of  such  barbarity  ?  But  this  will  not 
seem  so  hard,  if  we  consider  that  this  was  to  be  no  precedent  for 
future  times :  since  they  did  not  do  it  but  upon  special  warrant 
and  commission  from  heaven,  evidenced  to  all  the  world  by  such 
mighty  miracles  as  did  plainly  shew,  that  they  were  particularly 


636  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

designed  by  God  to  be  the  executioners  of  his  justice.  And  God 
by  employing  them  in  so  severe  a  service,  intended  to  possess 
them  with  great  horror  of  idolatry,  which  was  punished  in  so 
extreme  a  manner. 

For  the  rites  of  their  religion,  we  can  ill  judge  of  them, 
except  we  perfectly  understood  the  idolatries  round  about  them ; 
to  which  we  find  they  were  much  inclined :  so  they  were  to  be 
bent  by  other  rites  to  an  extreme  aversion  from  them :  and  yet 
by  the  pomp  of  many  of  their  ceremonies  and  sacrifices,  great 
indulgences  were  given  to  a  people  naturally  fond  of  a  visible 
splendor  in  religious  worship.  In  all  which,  if  we  cannot  descend 
to  such  satisfactory  answers  in  every  particular,  as  a  curious  man 
would  desire,  it  is  no  wonder.  The  long  interval  of  time,  and 
other  accidents,  have  worn  out  those  things  which  were  necessary 
to  give  us  a  clearer  light  into  the  meaning  of  them.  And  for 
the  story  of  the  creation,  how  far  some  things  in  it  may  be  para- 
bolical, and  how  far  historical,  has  been  much  disputed :  there  is 
nothing  in  it  that  may  not  be  historically  true.  For  if  it  be 
acknowledged  that  spirits  can  form  voices  in  the  air,  for  which 
we  have  as  good  authority  as  for  any  thing  in  history ;  then  it  is 
no  wonder  that  Eve  being  so  lately  created,  might  be  deceived, 
and  think  a  serpent  spake  to  her  when  the  evil  spirit  framed  the 
voice. 

But  in  all  these  things  I  told  him  he  was  in  the  wrong  way, 
when  he  examined  the  business  of  religion,  by  some  dark  parts 
of  Scripture :  therefore  I  desired  him  to  consider  the  whole  con- 
texture of  the  Christian  religion,  the  rules  it  gives,  and  the 
methods  it  prescribes.     Nothing  can  conduce  more  to  the  peace, 
order  and  happiness  of  the  world,  than  to  be  governed  by  its 
rules.     Nothing  is  more  for  the  interest  of  every  man  in  par- 
ticular.    The  rules  of  sobriety,  temperance,  and  moderation,  \ 
the  best  preservers  of  life,  and  which  was  perhaps  more,  of  health. 
Humility,  contempt  of  the  vanities  of  the  world,  and  the  J> 
well  employed,  raises  a  man's  mind  to  a  freedom  from  the  follies 
and  temptations  that  haunted  the  greatest  part.     Nothing 
so  generous  and  great  as  to  supply  the  necessities  of  the  poor, 
and  to  forgive  injuries.     Nothing  raised  and  maintained  a  n 
reputation  so  much,  as  to  be  exactly  just,  and  merciful,  kind, 
charitable,  and  compassionate.     Nothing  opened  the  powers  of  a 
man's  soul  so  much  as  a  calm  temper,  a  serene  mind,  free  of 
and  disorder.     Nothing   made  societies.    lhmilie>.   and 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  637 

neighbourhoods  so  happy,  as  when  these  rules  which  the  gospel 
prescribes,  took  place,  of  doing  as  we  would  have  others  do  to  us, 
and  loving  our  neighbours  as  ourselves. 

The  Christian  worship  was  also  plain  and  simple ;  suitable  to 
so  pure  a  doctrine.  The  ceremonies  of  it  were  few  and  signi- 
ficant ;  as  the  admission  to  it  by  a  washing  with  water,  and  the 
memorial  of  our  Saviour's  death  in  bread  and  wine.  The  motives 
in  it  to  persuade  to  this  purity,  were  strong.  That  God  sees  us, 
and  will  judge  us  for  all  our  actions ;  that  we  shall  be  for  ever 
happy  or  miserable,  as  we  pass  our  lives  here.  The  example  of 
our  Saviour's  life,  and  the  great  expressions  of  his  love  in  dying 
for  us,  are  mighty  engagements  to  obey  and  imitate  him.  The 
plain  way  of  expression  used  by  our  Saviour  and  his  apostles,  shews 
there  was  no  artifice,  where  there  was  so  much  simplicity  used : 
there  were  no  secrets  kept  only  among  the  priests,  but  every 
thing  was  open  to  all  Christians.  The  rewards  of  holiness  are 
not  entirely  put  over  to  another  state,  but  good  men  are  specially 
blest  with  peace  in  their  consciences,  great  joy  in  the  confidence 
they  have  of  the  love  of  God,  and  of  seeing  him  for  ever ;  and 
often  a  signal  course  of  blessings  follows  them  in  their  whole  lives. 
But  if  at  other  times  calamities  fell  on  them,  these  were  so  much 
mitigated  by  the  patience  they  were  taught,  and  the  inward  assist- 
ances with  which  they  were  furnished,  that  even  those  crosses 
were  converted  to  blessings. 

I  desired  he  would  lay  all  these  things  together,  and  see  what 
he  could  except  to  them,  to  make  him  think  this  was  a  con- 
trivance. Interest  appears  in  all  human  contrivances.  Our 
Saviour  plainly  had  none.  He  avoided  applause ;  withdrew  him- 
self from  the  offers  of  a  crown :  he  submitted  to  poverty  and 
reproach,  and  much  contradiction  in  his  life,  and  to  a  most 
ignominious  and  painful  death.  His  apostles  had  none  neither : 
they  did  not  pretend  either  to  power  or  wealth ;  but  delivered  a 
doctrine  that  must  needs  condemn  them,  if  they  ever  made  such 
use  of  it.  They  declared  their  commission  fully,  without  reserves 
till  other  times :  they  recorded  their  own  weakness :  some  of 
them  wrought  with  their  own  hands;  and  when  they  received 
the  charities  of  their  converts,  it  was  not  so  much  to  supply 
their  own  necessities,  as  to  distribute  to  others.  They  knew  they 
were  to  suffer  much  for  giving  their  testimonies  to  what  they  had 
seen  and  heard  :  in  which,  so  many,  in  a  thing  so  visible  as  Christ's 
resurrection  and  ascension,  and  the  effusion  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 


638  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

which  he  had  promised,  could  not  be  deceived :  and  they  gave 
such  public  confirmations  of  it,  by  the  wonders  they  themselves 
wrought,  that  great  multitudes  were  converted  to  a  doctrine, 
which,  besides  the  opposition  it  gave  to  lust  and  passion,  was 
borne  down  and  persecuted  for  three  hundred  years :  and  yet  its 
force  was  such,  that  it  not  only  weathered  out  all  those  storms, 
but  even  grew  and  spread  vastly  under  them.  Pliny,  about 
threescore  years  after,  found  their  numbers  great  and  their  lives 
innocent :  and  even  Lucian,  amidst  all  his  raillery,  gives  a  high 
testimony  to  their  charity  and  contempt  of  life,  and  the  other 
virtues  of  the  Christians ;  which  is  likewise  more  than  once  done 
by  malice  itself,  Julian  the  apostate. 

If  a  man  will  lay  all  this  in  one  balance,  and  compare  with  it 
the  few  exceptions  brought  to  it,  he  will  soon  find  how  strong 
the  one,  and  how  slight  the  other  are.  Therefore  it  was  an 
improper  way,  to  begin  at  some  cavils  about  some  passages  in 
the  New  Testament,  or  the  Old,  and  from  thence  to  prepo 
one's  mind  against  the  whole.  The  right  method  had  been  first 
to  consider  the  whole  matter,  and  from  so  general  a  view  to 
descend  to  more  particular  enquiries:  whereas  they  suffered 
their  minds  to  be  forestalled  with  prejudices,  so  that  they  never 
examined  the  matter  impartially. 

To  the  greatest  part  of  this  he  seemed  to  assent ;   only  he 
excepted  to  the  belief  of  mysteries  in   the  Christian   religion, 
which  he  thought  no  man  could  do,  since  it  is  not  in  a  man's 
power  to  believe  that  which  he  cannot  comprehend ;  and  of  which 
he  can  have  no  notion.     The  believing  mysteries,  he  said,  made- 
way  for  all  the  jugglings  of  priests ;   for  they,  getting  the  p< 
under  them  in  that  point,  set  out  to  them  what  they  plea 
and  giving  it  a  hard  name,  and  calling  it  a  mystery,  the  pi 
were  tamed,  and  easily  believed  it.     The  restraining  a  man  from 
the  use  of  women,  except  one  in  the  way  of  marriage,  and  deny- 
ing the  remedy  of  divorce,  he  thought  unreasonable  iinjmsi 
on  the  freedom  of  mankind:  and  the  business  of  the  cler-v.  and 
their  maintenance,  with  the  belief  of  some  authority  and  j> 
conveyed  in  their  orders,  looked,  as  he  thought,  like  a  pier 
contrivance.     "And  why,"  said  he,   "must  a  man    tell   n 
cannot  be  saved,  unless  I  believe  things  against  my  reason,  an<l 
then  that  I  must  pay  him  for  telling  me  of  them  2" 

These  were  all  the  exceptions  which  at  any  time  I  heard  from 
him  to  Christianity.     To  which  I  made  these  answers. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  639 

For  mysteries,  it  is  plain  there  is  in  every  thing  somewhat  that 
is  unaccountable.  How  animals  or  men  are  formed  in  their 
mothers1  bellies;  how  seeds  grow  in  the  earth;  how  the  soul 
dwells  in  the  body,  and  acts  and  moves  it ;  how  we  retain  the 
figures  of  so  many  words  or  things  in  our  memories,  and  how  we 
draw  them  out  so  easily  and  orderly  in  our  thoughts  or  dis- 
courses; how  sight  and  hearing  were  so  quick  and  distinct; 
how  we  move,  and  how  bodies  were  compounded  and  united ; 
these  things,  if  we  follow  them  into  all  the  difficulties  that  we 
may  raise  about  them,  will  appear  every  whit  as  unaccountable  as 
any  mystery  of  religion :  and  a  blind  or  deaf  man  would  judge 
sight  or  hearing  as  incredible  as  any  mystery  may  be  judged  by 
us:  for  our  reason  is  not  equal  to  them.  In  the  same  rank, 
different  degrees  of  age  or  capacity  raise  some  far  above  others : 
so  that  children  cannot  fathom  the  learning,  nor  weak  persons 
the  counsels  of  more  illuminated  minds :  therefore  it  was  no 
wonder  if  we  could  not  understand  the  divine  essence.  We 
cannot  imagine  how  two  such  different  natures  as  a  soul  and  a 
body  should  so  unite  together,  and  be  mutually  affected  with  one 
another's  concerns  ;  and  how  the  soul  has  one  principle  of  reason, 
by  which  it  acts  intellectually,  and  another  of  life,  by  which  it 
joins  to  the  body  and  acts  vitally;  two  principles  so  widely 
differing  both  in  their  nature  and  operation,  and  yet  united  in 
one  and  the  same  person.  There  might  be  as  many  hard  argu- 
ments brought  against  the  possibility  of  these  things,  which  yet 
every  one  knows  to  be  true,  from  speculative  notions,  as  against 
the  mysteries  mentioned  in  the  Scriptures. 

As  that  of  the  Trinity ;  that  in  one  essence  there  are  three 
different  principles  of  operation,  which,  for  want  of  terms  fit  to 
express  them  by,  we  call  persons,  and  are  called  in  Scripture  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ;  and  that  the  second  of  these  did 
unite  himself  in  a  most  intimate  manner  with  the  human  nature 
of  Jesus  Christ;  and  that  the  sufferings  he  underwent,  were 
accepted  of  God  as  a  sacrifice  for  our  sins,  who  thereupon  con- 
ferred on  him  a  power  of  granting  eternal  life  to  all  that  submit 
to  the  terms  on  which  he  offers  it ;  and  that  the  matter  of  which 
our  bodies  once  consisted,  which  may  be  as  justly  called  the 
bodies  we  laid  down  at  our  deaths,  as  these  can  be  said  to  be 
the  bodies  which  we  formerly  lived  in,  being  refined  and  made 
more  spiritual,  shall  be  reunited  to  our  souls,  and  become  a  fit 
instrument  for  them  in  a  more  perfect  estate :  and  that  God 


640  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

inwardly  bends  and  moves  our  wills,  by  such  impressions,  as  he 
can  make  on  our  bodies  and  minds :  these,  which  are  the  chief 
mysteries  of  our  religion,  are  neither  so  unreasonable,  that  any 
other  objection  lies  against  them,  but  this,  that  they  agree  not 
with  our  common  notions,  nor  so  unaccountable  that  somewhat 
like  them  cannot  be  assigned  in  other  things,  which  are  believed 
really  to  be,  although  the  manner  of  them  cannot  be  appre- 
hended :  so  this  ought  not  to  be  any  just  objection  to  the  sub- 
mission of  our  reason  to  what  we  cannot  so  well  conceive, 
provided  our  belief  of  it  be  well  grounded.  There  have  been  too 
many  niceties  brought  indeed,  rather  to  darken  than  explain 
these :  they  have  been  defended  by  weak  arguments,  and  illus- 
trated by  similies  not  always  so  very  apt  and  pertinent :  and  new 
subtilties  have  been  added,  which  have  rather  perplexed  than 
cleared-  them.  All  this  cannot  be  denied;  the  opposition  of 
heretics  anciently,  occasioned  too  much  curiosity  among  the 
Fathers;  which  the  school-men  have  wonderfully  advanced  of  late 
times :  but  if  mysteries  were  received,  rather  in  the  simplicity  in 
which  they  are  delivered  in  the  Scriptures,  than  according  to  the 
descantings  of  fanciful  men  upon  them,  they  would  not  appear 
much  more  incredible,  than  some  of  the  common  objects  of  sense 
and  perception.  And  it  is  a  needless  fear,  that  if  some  myst' 
are  acknowledged,  which  are  plainly  mentioned  in  the  New  T« 
ment,  it  will  then  be  in  the  power  of  the  priests  to  add  more  at 
their  pleasure.  For  it  is  an  absurd  inference  from  our  heinic 
bound  to  assent  to  some  truths  about  the  divine  essence,  of 
which  the  manner  is  not  understood,  to  argue  that  therefore  in 
an  object  presented  duly  to  our  senses,  such  as  bread  and  \vim-. 
we  should  be  bound  to  believe  against  their  testimony,  that  it  is 
not  what  our  senses  perceive  it  to  be,  but  the  whole  flesh  and 
blood  of  Christ;  an  entire  body  being  in  every  crumb  and  drop 
of  it.  It  is  not  indeed  in  a  man's  power  to  believe  thus  against 
his  sense  and  reason,  where  the  object  is  proportioned  to  them. 
and  fitly  applied,  and  the  organs  are  under  no  indisposition  or 
disorder.  It  is  certain  that  no  mystery  is  to  be  admitted,  but 
upon  very  clear  and  express  authorities  from  Scripture,  which 
could  not  reasonably  be  understood  in  any  other  sense.  And 
though  a  man  cannot  form  an  explicit  notion  of  a  inyst«T\. 
in  general  he  may  believe  a  thing  to  be,  though  he  cannot 
himself  a  particular  account  of  the  way  of  it:  or  rather  though 
he  cannot  answer  some  objections  which  lie  against  it. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  (J4-1 

know  we  believe  many  such  in  human  matters,  which  are  more 
within  our  reach :  and  it  is  very  unreasonable  to  say,  we  may  not 
do  it  in  divine  things,  which  are  much  more  above  our  appre- 
hensions. 

For  the  severe  restraint  of  the  use  of  women,  it  is  hard  to 
deny  that  privilege  to  Jesus  Christ  as  a  law-giver,  to  lay  such 
restraints  as  all  inferior  legislators  do  ;  who,  when  they  find  the 
liberties  their  subjects  take,  prove  hurtful  to  them,  set  such  limits, 
and  make  such  regulations  as  they  judge  necessary  and  expedient. 
It  cannot  be  said  but  the  restraint  of  appetite  is  necessary  in  some 
instances :  and  if  it  is  necessary  in  these,  perhaps  other  restraints 
are  no  less  necessary,  to  fortify  and  secure  them.  For  if  it  be 
acknowledged  that  men  have  a  property  in  their  wives  and  daugh- 
ters, so  that  to  defile  the  one,  or  corrupt  the  other,  is  an  unjust 
and  injurious  thing;  it  is  certain,  that  except  a  man  carefully 
governs  his  appetite,  he  will  break  through  these  restraints :  and 
therefore  our  Saviour  knowing  that  nothing  could  so  effectually 
deliver  the  world  from  the  mischief  of  unrestrained  appetite,  as 
such  a  confinement,  might  very  reasonably  enjoin  it.  And  in  all 
such  cases  we  are  to  balance  the  inconveniences  on  both  hands, 
and  where  we  find  they  are  heaviest,  we  are  to  acknowledge  the 
equity  of  the  law.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  no  prejudice,  but 
the  restraint  of  appetite.  On  the  other,  are  the  mischiefs  of  being 
given  up  to  pleasure,  of  running  inordinately  into  it,  of  breaking 
the  quiet  of  our  own  family  at  home,  and  of  others  abroad  ;  the 
engaging  into  much  passion,  the  doing  many  false  and  impious 
things  to  compass  what  is  desired,  the  waste  of  men's  estates, 
time,  and  health.  Now  let  any  man  judge,  whether  the  prejudices 
on  this  side,  are  not  greater  than  that  single  one  of  the  other 
side,  of  being  denied  some  pleasure  ? 

For  polygamy,  it  is  but  reasonable,  since  women  are  equally 
concerned  in  the  laws  of  marriage,  that  they  should  be  considered 
as  well  as  men ;  but  in  a  state  of  polygamy  they  are  under  great 
misery  and  jealousy,  and  are  indeed  barbarously  used.  Man  being 
also  of  a  sociable  nature,  friendship  and  converse  were  among  the 
primitive  intendments  of  marriage ;  in  which  as  far  as  the  man 
may  excel  the  wife  in  greatness  of  mind,  and  height  of  knowledge, 
the  wife  someway  makes  that  up  with  her  affection  and  tender 
care :  so  that  from  both  happily  mixed,  there  arises  a  harmony, 
which  is  to  virtuous  minds  one  of  the  greatest  joys  of  life.  But 
all  this  is  gone  in  a  state  of  polygamy,  which  occasions  perpetual 

VOL.   IV.  T  t 


642  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

jarrings  and  jealousies :  and  the  variety  does  but  engage  men  to 
a  freer  range  of  pleasure,  which  is  not  to  be  put  in  the  balance 
with  the  far  greater  mischiefs  that  must  follow  the  other  course. 
So  that  it  is  plain,  our  Saviour  considered  the  nature  of  man, 
what  it  could  bear,  and  what  was  fit  for  it,  when  he  so  restrained 
us  in  these  our  liberties. 

And  for  divorce,  a  power  to  break  that  bond  would  too  much 
encourage  married  persons  in  the  little  quarrellings  that  may  rise 
between  them,  if  it  were  in  their  power  to  depart  one  from  another. 
For  when  they  know  that  cannot  be,  and  that  they  must  live  and 
die  together,  it  does  naturally  incline  them  to  lay  down  their 
resentments,  and  to  endeavour  to  live  as  well  together  as  they 
can.  So  the  law  of  the  Gospel  being  a  law  of  love,  designed  to 
engage  Christians  to  mutual  love ;  it  was  fit  that  all  such  provi- 
sions should  be  made,  as  might  advance  and  maintain  it ;  and  all 
such  liberties  be  taken  away,  as  are  apt  to  enkindle  or  foment 
strife.  This  might  fall  in  some  instances  to  be  uneasy  and  hard 
enough ;  but  laws  consider  what  falls  out  most  commonly,  and 
cannot  provide  for  all  particular  cases.  The  best  laws  are  in 
some  instances  very  great  grievances.  But  the  advantages  being 
balanced  with  the  inconveniences,  measures  are  to  be  taken 
accordingly. 

Upon  this  whole  matter  I  said,  that  pleasure  stood  in  opposi- 
tion to  other  considerations  of  great  weight,  and  so  the  decision 
was  easy.  And  since  our  Saviour  offers  us  so  great  rewards,  it  is 
but  reasonable  he  have  a  privilege  of  loading  these  promises  with 
such  conditions,  as  are  not  in  themselves  grateful  to  our  natural 
inclinations :  for  all  that  propose  high  rewards,  have  thereby  a 
right  to  exact  difficult  performances. 

To  this  he  said,  we  are  sure  the  terms  are  difficult,  but  are  not 
so  sure  of  the  rewards. 

Upon  this  I  told  him,  that  we  have  the  same  assurance  of  the 
rewards,  that  we  have  of  the  other  parts  of  Christian  religion. 
We  have  the  promises  of  God  made  to  us  by  Christ,  confirmed 
by  many  miracles :  we  have  the  earnest  of  these,  in  the  quiet  and 
peace  which  follows  a  good  conscience :  and  in  the  resurrection  of 
him  from  the  dead,  who  hath  promised  to  raise  us  up  : — so  that 
the  reward  is  sufficiently  assured  to  us.  And  there  is  nore.i 
it  should  be  given  to  us,  before  the  conditions  are  performed,  on 
which  the  promises  are  made.  It  is  but  reasonable  that  we  should 
trust  God  and  do  our  duty,  in  hopes  of  that  eternal  life,  which 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  643 

God,  who  cannot  lie,  hath  promised.  The  difficulties  are  not  so 
great,  as  those  which  sometimes  the  commonest  concerns  of  life 
bring  upon  us.  The  learning  some  trades  or  scienes,  the  govern- 
ing our  health  and  affairs,  bring  us  often  under  as  great  straights. 
So  that  it  ought  to  be  no  just  prejudice,  that  there  are  some 
things  in  religion  that  are  uneasy,  since  this  is  rather  the  effect  of 
our  corrupt  natures,  which  are  further  depraved  by  vicious  habits, 
and  can  hardly  turn  to  any  new  course  of  life,  without  some  pain ; 
than  of  the  dictates  of  Christianity,  which  are  in  themselves  just 
and  reasonable,  and  will  be  easy  to  us  when  renewed,  and  in  a 
good  measure  restored  to  our  primitive  integrity. 

As  for  the  exceptions  he  had  to  the  maintenance  of  the  clergy, 
and  the  authority  to  which  they  pretended ;  if  they  stretched  their 
designs  too  far,  the  Gospel  did  plainly  reprove  them  for  it :  so 
that  it  was  very  suitable  to  that  church  which  was  so  grossly 
faulty  this  way,  to  take  the  Scriptures  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
people,  since  they  do  so  manifestly  disclaim  all  such  practices. 
The  priests  of  the  true  Christian  religion  have  no  secrets  among 
them,  which  the  world  must  not  know  ;  but  are  only  an  order 
of  men  dedicated  to  God,  to  attend  on  sacred  things,  who 
ought  to  be  holy  in  a  more  peculiar  manner,  since  they  are  to 
handle  the  things  of  God.  It  was  necessary  that  such  persons 
should  have  a  due  esteem  paid  them,  and  a  fit  maintenance  ap- 
pointed for  them ;  that  so  they  might  be  preserved  from  the  con- 
tempt that  follows  poverty,  and  the  distractions  which  the  providing 
against  it  might  otherwise  involve  them  in.  And  as  in  the  order 
of  the  world  it  was  necessary  for  the  support  of  magistracy  and 
government  and  for  preserving  its  esteem,  that  some  state  be 
used  (though  it  is  a  happiness  when  great  men  have  philosophical 
minds,  to  despise  the  pageantry  of  it,)  so  the  plentiful  supply  of 
the  clergy,  if  well  used  and  applied  by  them,  will  certainly  turn  to 
the  advantage  of  religion.  And  if  some  men,  either  through  am- 
bition or  covetousness,  used  indirect  means,  or  servile  compliances, 
to  aspire  to  such  dignities,  and  being  possessed  of  them,  applied 
their  wealth  either  to  luxury  or  vain  pomp,  or  made  great  fortunes 
out  of  it  for  their  families ;  these  were  personal  failings  in  which 
the  doctrine  of  Christ  was  not  concerned. 

He  upon  that  told  me  plainly  there  was  nothing  that  gave  him, 
and  many  others,  a  more  secret  encouragement  in  their  ill  ways, 
than  that  those  who  pretended  to  believe,  lived  so  that  they  could 
not  be  thought  to  be  in  earnest,  when  they  said  it.  For  he  was 

T  t2 


64-4  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

sure  religion  was  either  a  mere  contrivance,  or  the  most  important 
thing  that  could  be :  so  that  if  he  once  believed,  he  would  set 
himself  in  great  earnest  to  live  suitably  to  it.  The  aspirings  that 
he  had  observed  at  court,  of  some  of  the  clergy,  with  the  servile 
ways  they  took  to  attain  to  preferment,  and  the  animosities  among 
those  of  several  parties,  about  trifles,  made  him  often  think  they 
suspected  the  things  were  not  true,  which  in  their  sermons  and 
discourses  they  so  earnestly  recommended.  Of  this  he  had 
gathered  many  instances.  I  knew  some  of  them  were  mistakes 
and  calumnies ;  yet  I  could  not  deny  but  something  of  them  might 
be  too  true :  and  I  publish  this  the  more  freely,  to  put  all  that 
pretend  to  religion,  chiefly  those  that  are  dedicated  to  holy  func- 
tions, in  mind  of  the  great  obligation  that  lies  on  them  to  live 
suitably  to  their  profession :  since  otherwise  a  great  deal  of  the 
irreligion  and  atheism  that  is  among  us,  may  too  justly  be  charged 
on  them  :  for  wicked  men  are  delighted  out  of  measure,  when  they 
discover  ill  things  in  them ;  and  conclude  from  thence  not  only 
that  they  are  hypocrites,  but  that  religion  itself  is  a  cheat. 

But  I  said  to  him  upon  this  head,  that  though  no  good  man 
could  continue  in  the  practice  of  any  known  sin,  yet  such  might, 
by  the  violence  or  surprise  of  temptation,  to  which  they  are 
liable  as  much  as  others,  be  of  a  sudden  overcome  to  do  an  ill 
thing  to  their  great  grief  all  their  life  after.  And  then  it  \vn>  ,1 
very  unjust  inference,  upon  some  few  failings,  to  conclude  that 
such  men  do  not  believe  themselves.  But  how  bad  soever  many 
are,  it  cannot  be  denied  but  there  are  also  many  both  of  the 
clergy  and  laity,  who  give  great  and  real  demonstrations  of  the 
power  religion  has  over  them ;  in  their  contempt  of  the  world,  the 
strictness  of  their  lives,  their  readiness  to  forgive  injuries,  to 
relieve  the  poor,  and  to  do  good  on  all  occasions :  and  yet  even 
these  may  have  their  failings,  either  in  such  things  wherein  their 
constitutions  are  weak,  or  their  temptations  strong  and  sudden  : 
and  in  all  such  cases  we  are  to  judge  of  men,  rather  by  the  course 
of  their  lives  than  by  the  errors,  that  they,  through  infirmity  or 
surprise,  may  have  slipped  into. 

These  were  the  chief  heads  we  discoursed  on  ;  and  as  far  as  T  can 
remember,  I  have  faithfully  repeated  the  substance  of  our  argu- 
ments. I  have  not  concealed  the  strongest  things  he  said  to  me  ; 
but  though  I  have  not  enlarged  on  all  the  excursions  of  his  wit  in 
setting  them  off,  yet  I  have  given  them  their  full  strength,  as  In- 
expressed  them  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  could  recollect,  have  used  his  own 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  G45 

words  :  so  that  I  am  afraid  some  may  censure  me  for  setting  down 
these  things  so  largely,  which  impious  men  may  make  an  ill  use 
of,  and  gather  together  to  encourage  and  defend  themselves  in 
their  vices.  But  if  they  will  compare  them  with  the  answers 
made  to  them,  and  the  sense  that  so  great  and  refined  a  wit  had 
of  them  afterwards,  I  hope  they  may,  through  the  blessing  of 
God,  be  not  altogether  ineffectual. 

The  issue  of  all  our  discourses  was  this : — he  told  me,  he  saw 
vice  and  impiety  were  as  contrary  to  human  society,  as  wild  beasts 
let  loose  would  be ;  and  therefore  he  firmly  resolved  to  change 
the  whole  method  of  his  life ;  to  become  strictly  just  and  true,  to 
be  chaste  and  temperate,  to  forbear  swearing  and  irreligious  dis- 
course, to  worship  and  pray  to  his  Maker :  and  that  though  he 
was  not  arrived  at  a  full  persuasion  of  Christianity,  he  would 
never  employ  his  wit  more  to  run  it  down,  or  to  corrupt  others. 
Of  which  I  have  since  a  further  assurance,  from  a  person  of 
quality,  who  conversed  much  with  him,  the  last  year  of  his 
life ;  to  whom  he  would  often  say,  "  that  he  was  happy,  if  he  did 
believe ;  and  that  he  would  never  endeavour  to  draw  him  from  it." 

To  all  this  I  answered,  that  a  virtuous  life  would  be  very  un- 
easy to  him,  unless  vicious  inclinations  were  removed  :  it  would 
otherwise  be  a  perpetual  constraint.  Nor  could  it  be  effected 
without  an  inward  principle  to  change  him  :  and  that  was  only  to 
be  had  by  applying  himself  to  Grod  for  it  in  frequent  and  earnest 
prayers  :  and  I  was  sure  if  his  mind  were  once  cleared  of  these 
disorders,  and  cured  of  those  distempers,  which  vice  brought  on 
it,  so  great  an  understanding  would  soon  see  through  all  those 
flights  of  wit,  that  do  feed  atheism  and  irreligion ;  which  have  a 
false  glittering  in  them,  that  dazzles  some  weak-sighted  minds, 
who  have  not  capacity  enough  to  penetrate  further  than  the  sur- 
faces of  things ;  and  so  they  stick  in  these  toils,  which  the  strength 
of  his  mind  would  soon  break  through,  if  it  were  once  freed  from 
those  things  that  depressed  and  darkened  it. 

At  this  pass 4  he  was  when  he  went  from  London,  about  the  be- 

4  At  this  pass.']  It  was  probably  at  this  time  that  he  wrote  the  following 
letter  to  the  countess,  now  first  printed  from  the  original. 

"DEERE  WIFE, 

"  I  recover  so  slowly  and  relapse  so  continually,  that  I  am  almost  weary 
of  myself.  If  I  had  the  least  strength  I  would  come  to  Adderbury  but  in  the 
condition  I  am,  Kensington  and  back  is  a  voyage  I  can  hardly  support ;  I 
hope  you  excuse  my  sending  you  no  money,  for  till  I  am  well  enough  to  fetch 


646  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

ginning  of  April 5.  He  had  not  been  long  in  the  country  when  he 
thought  he  was  so  well,  that  being  to  go  to  his  estate  in  Somer- 
setshire *,  he  rode  thither  post.  This  heat  and  violent  motion  did 
so  inflame  an  ulcer,  that  was  in  his  bladder,  that  it  raised  a  very 
great  pain  in  those  parts :  yea  he  with  much  difficulty  came 
back  by  coach  to  the  lodge  at  Woodstock  Park 7.  He  was  then 

it  they  will  not  give  me  a  farthing,  and  if  I  had  not  pawned  my  plate,  I 
believe  I  must  have  starved  in  my  sickness.  Well,  God  bless  you  and  the 
children  whatever  becomes  of 

"  Your  humble  servant, 

"  ROCHESTER." 

"  If  Mrs.  Calford  be  gone,  pray  enclose  this  letter  with  the  first  you  send." 
8  Beginning  of  April.]  1680. 

6  Estate  in  Somersetshire.']  Enmore,  which  lord  Rochester  possessed   in 
right  of  his  wife  [see  p.  6 12],  and  upon  the  rents  of  which,  as  it  is  evident 
from  frequent  expressions  in  his  letters  to  her,  they  chiefly  depended.     In 
one  letter  he  says  he  reserves  the  revenue  from  Enmore  for  her  and  for  her 
children.     Lord  Rochester  left  one  son  Charles,  the  third  earl,  who  died  in 
1681,  and  three  daughters:  1.  Anne,  who  married,  first,  Henry  Bayntun  of 
Spye  Park,  and,  secondly,  Francis  Greville,  son  of  lord  Brooke,  from  whom 
the  present  earl  of  Warwick  descends;    2.  Elizabeth,  married  to  Edward 
Montagu,  third  earl  of  Sandwich  [see  p.  610]:  3.  Malet,  married  to  John 
Vaughan,  lord  Lisburne,  ancestor  of  the  present  earl  of  Lisburne.     The 
Vaughan  family  still  use  the  names  of  Wilmot  and  Malet.     Sir  Edward 
Bayntun  Rolt,  bart.,  who  died  in  1800,  descended  from  the  eldest  daughter, 
sold  Enmore  in  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century. 

7  Woodstock  Park.']  Of  which  lord  Rochester  was  then  comptroller.     The 
following  narrative,  which  will  in  some  degree  supply  the  deficiencies  in  this 
part  of  the  relation,  is  transcribed  from  the  sermon  which  is  referred  to  below 
in  the  text,  as  having  been  preached  at  the  earl's  funeral,  by  Robert  Par- 
sons, M.A.  chaplain  to  the  right  hon.  Anne  countess  of  Rochester: 

"  Upon  my  first  visit  to  him  (May  26,  just  at  his  return  from  his  journey 
out  of  the  west)  he  most  gladly  received  me,  shewed  me  extraordinary  respects 
upon  the  score  of  mine  office,  thanked  God  who  had  in  mercy  and  good  pro- 
vidence sent  me  to  him  who  so  much  needed  my  prayers  and  counsels,  and 
acknowledged  how  unworthily  heretofore  he  had  treated  that  order  of  men, 
reproaching  them  that  they  were  proud,  and  prophesied  only  for  rewards ; 
but  now  he  had  learned  how  to  value  them ;  that  he  esteemed  them  the 
servants  of  the  most  high  God,  who  were  to  shew  to  him  the  way  to  ever- 
lasting life : 

"At  the  same  time  I  found  him  labouring  under  strange  trouble  and  con- 
flicts of  mind,  his  spirit  wounded,  and  his  conscience  full  of  terrors.  Upon 
his  journey,  he  told  me,  he  had  been  arguing  with  greater  vigour  against 
God  and  religion  than  ever  he  had  done  in  his  life-time  before,  and  that  he 
was  resolved  to  run  them  down  with  all  the  arguments  and  spite  in  the 
world  ;  but,  like  the  great  convert,  St,  Paul,  he  found  it  hard  to  kick  against 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  647 

wounded  both  in  body  and  mind.  He  understood  physic  and  his 
own  constitution  and  distemper  so  well,  that  he  concluded  he 

the  pricks ;  for  God,  at  that  time,  had  so  struck  his  heart  by  his  immediate 
hand,  that  presently  he  argued  as  strongly  for  God  and  virtue  as  before  he 
had  done  against  it ;  that  God  strangely  opened  his  heart,  creating  in  his 
mind  most  awful  and  tremendous  thoughts  and  ideas  of  the  Divine  Majesty, 
with  a  delightful  contemplation  of  the  divine  nature  and  attributes,  and  of 
the  loveliness  of  religion  and  virtue.  '  I  never/  said  he,  *  was  advanced  thus 
far  towards  happiness  in  my  life  before ;  though,  upon  the  commission  of 
some  sins  extraordinary,  I  have  had  some  checks  and  warnings  considerable 
from  within  but  still  struggled  with  them,  and  so  wore  them  off  again.  The 
most  observable  that  I  remember  was  this  :  one  day,  at  an  atheistical  meeting 
at  a  person  of  quality's,  I  undertook  to  manage  the  cause,  and  was  the  prin- 
cipal disputant  against  God  and  piety,  and  for  my  performances  received  the 
applause  of  the  whole  company ;  upon  which  my  mind  was  terribly  struck, 
and  I  immediately  replied  thus  to  myself: — Good  God  !  that  a  man  that  walks 
upright,  that  sees  the  wonderful  works  of  God,  and  has  the  use  of  his  senses  and 
reason,  should  use  them  to  the  defying  of  his  Creator  !  but,  though  this  was  a 
good  beginning  towards  my  conversion,  to  find  my  conscience  touched  for 
my  sins,  yet  it  went  off  again ;  nay,  all  my  life  long,  I  had  a  secret  value  and 
reverence  for  an  honest  man,  and  loved  morality  in  others ;  but  I  had  formed 
an  odd  scheme  of  religion  to  myself  which  would  solve  all  that  God  or  con- 
science might  force  upon  me ;  yet  I  was  not  ever  well  reconciled  to  the  busi- 
ness of  Christianity,  nor  had  that  reverence  for  the  Gospel  of  Christ  as  I 
ought  to  have.'  Which  estate  of  mind  continued  till  the  fifty-third  chapter 
of  Isaiah  was  read  to  him,  (wherein  there  is  a  lively  description  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  our  Saviour,  and  the  benefits  thereof,)  and  some  other  portions  of 
Scripture ;  by  the  power  and  efficacy  of  which  word,  assisted  by  his  Holy 
Spirit,  God  so  wrought  upon  his  heart,  that  he  declared  that  the  mysteries  of 
the  passion  appeared  as  clear  and  plain  to  him  as  ever  any  thing  did  that  was 
represented  in  a  glass  :  so  that  that  joy  and  admiration,  which  possessed  his 
soul  upon  the  reading  of  God's  word  to  him,  was  remarkable  to  all  about 
him ;  and  he  had  so  much  delight  in  his  testimonies,  that,  in  my  absence,  he 
begged  his  mother  and  lady  to  read  the  same  to  him  frequently,  and  was 
unsatisfied  (notwithstanding  his  great  pain  and  weakness)  till  he  had  learned 
the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  without  book. 

"  At  the  same  time,  discoursing  of  his  manner  of  life  from  his  youth  up, 
and  which  all  men  knew  was  too  much  devoted  to  the  service  of  sin,  and  that 
the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  had  captivated  him ;  he 
was  very  large  and  particular  in  his  acknowledgments  about  it,  more  ready  to 
accuse  himself  than  I  or  any  one  else  can  be ;  publicly  crying  out,  *  O  blessed 
God,  can  such  a  horrid  creature  as  I  am  be  accepted  by  thee,  who  has  denied 
thy  being,  and  contemned  thy  power  ? '  Asking  often,  <  Can  there  be  mercy 
and  pardon  for  me  ?  Will  God  own  such  a  wretch  as  I  ?'  and  in  the  middle 
of  his  sickness  said,  '  Shall  the  unspeakable  joys  of  heaven  be  conferred  on 
me  ?  O  mighty  Saviour  !  never,  but  through  thine  infinite  love  and  satis- 
faction !  O  never,  but  by  the  purchase  of  thy  blood  !  adding,  that  with  all 


648  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

could  hardly  recover :  for  the  ulcer  broke,  and  vast  quantities  of 
purulent  matter  passed  with  his  urine.  But  now  the  hand  of  God 

abhorrency  he  did  reflect  upon  his  former  life ;  that  sincerely,  and  from  his 
heart,  he  did  repent  of  all  that  folly  and  madness  which  he  had  committed. 

"  Indeed,  he  had  a  true  and  lively  sense  of  God's  great  mercy  to  him,  in 
striking  his  hard  heart,  and  laying  his  conscience  open,  which  hitherto  was 
deaf  to  all  God's  calls  and  methods :  saying,  if  that  God  who  died  for  great 
as  well  as  less  sinners,  did  not  speedily  apply  his  infinite  merits  to  his  poor 
soul,  his  wound  was  such  as  no  man  could  conceive  or  bear ;  crying  out,  that 
he  was  the  vilest  wretch  and  dog  that  the  sun  shined  upon  or  the  earth  bore ; 
that  he  now  saw  his  error,  in  not  living  up  to  that  reason  which  God  endued 
him  with,  and  which  he  unworthily  vilified  and  contemned ;  wished  he  had 
been  a  starving  leper  crawling  in  a  ditch,  that  he  had  been  a  link-boy  or  a 
beggar,  or  for  his  whole  life  confined  to  a  dungeon,  rather  than  thus  to  have 
sinned  against  God. 

"  How  remarkable  was  his  faith,  in  a  hearty  embracing  and  devout  con- 
fession of  all  the  articles  of  our  Christian  religion,  and  all  the  divine  mysteries 
of  the  Gospel ;  saying,  that  that  absurd  and  foolish  philosophy,  which  the 
world  so  much  admired,  propagated  by  the  late  Mr.  Hobbes  and  others,  had 
undone  him  and  many  more  of  the  best  parts  in  the  nation ;  who,  without 
God's  great  mercy  to  them,  may  never,  I  believe,  attain  to  such  a  repentance. 

"  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  his  faithful  adherence  to,  and  casting  himself 
entirely  upon,  the  mercies  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  free  grace  of  God,  declared 
to  repenting  sinners  through  him ;  with  a  thankful  remembrance  of  his  life, 
death,  and  resurrection ;  begging  God  to  strengthen  his  faith,  and  often  cry- 
ing out,  '  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  thou  mine  unbelief :' 

*'  His  mighty  love  and  esteem  of  the  holy  Scriptures,  his  resolutions  to 
read  them  frequently  and  meditate  upon  them,  if  God  should  spare  him, 
having  already  tasted  the  good  word ;  for,  it  having  spoken  to  his  heart,  he 
acknowledged  all  the  seeming  absurdities  and  contradictions  thereof,  fancied 
by  men  of  corrupt  and  reprobate  judgments,  were  vanished,  and  the  excel- 
lency and  beauty  appeared,  being  come  to  receive  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it : 

"  His  extraordinary  fervent  devotions,  in  his  frequent  prayers  of  his  own, 
most  excellent  and  correct ;  amongst  the  rest,  for  the  king,  in  such  a  manner 
as  became  a  dutiful  subject  and  a  truly  grateful  servant ;  for  the  church  and 
nation  ;  for  some  particular  relations,  and  then  for  all  men ;  his  calling  fre- 
quently upon  me  at  all  hours  to  pray  with  him  or  read  the  Scriptures  to  him ; 
and,  toward  the  end  of  his  sickness,  he  would  heartily  desire  God  to  pardon 
his  infirmities,  if  he  should  not  be  so  wakeful  and  intent  through  the  whole 
duty  as  he  wished  to  be ;  and  that,  though  the  flesh  was  weak,  yet  the  spirit 
was  willing,  and  he  hoped  God  would  accept  that : 

"  His  continual  invocation  of  God's  grace  and  Holy  Spirit,  to  sustain  him, 
to  keep  him  from  all  evil  thoughts,  from  all  temptations  and  diabolical  sug- 
gestions, and  every  thing  which  might  be  prejudicial  to  that  religious  temper 
of  mind  which  God  had  now  so  happily  endued  him  withal ;  crying  out,  one 
night  especially,  how  terribly  the  tempter  did  assault  him,  by  casting  upon 
him  lewd  and  wicked  imaginations !  '  but  I  thank  God,'  said  he, '  I  abhor 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  649 

touched  him ;  and  as  he  told  me,  it  was  not  only  a  general  dark 
melancholy  over  his  mind,  such  as  he  had  formerly  felt ;  but  a 

them  all ;  by  the  power  of  his  grace,  which  I  am  sure  is  sufficient  for  me,  I 
have  overcome  them ;  it  is  the  malice  of  the  devil,  because  I  am  rescued  from 
him ;  and  the  goodness  of  God,  that  frees  me  from  all  my  spiritual  enemies  :' 

"  His  great  joy  at  his  lady's  conversion  from  Popery  to  the  church  of 
England,  (being,  as  he  termed  it,  a  faction  supported  only  by  fraud  and 
cruelty,)  which  was  by  her  done  with  deliberation  and  mature  judgment ; 
the  dark  mists  of  which  have  for  some  months  before  been  breaking  away, 
but  now  cleared  by  her  receiving  the  blessed  Sacrament  with  her  dying  hus- 
band, at  the  receiving  of  which  no  man  could  express  more  joy  and  devotion 
than  he  did ;  and,  having  handled  the  word  of  life,  and  seen  the  salvation  of 
God,  in  the  preparation  of  his  mind,  he  was  now  ready  to  depart  in  peace  : 

"  His  hearty  concern  for  the  pious  education  of  his  children,  wishing  that 
his  son  might  never  be  a  wit,  that  is,  (as  he  himself  explained  it,)  one  of  those 
wretched  creatures  who  pride  themselves  in  abusing  God  and  religion,  denying 
his  being  or  his  providence ;  but  that  he  might  become  an  honest  and  reli- 
gious man,  which  could  only  be  the  support  and  blessing  of  his  family;  com- 
plaining what  a  vicious  and  naughty  world  they  were  brought  into,  and  that 
no  fortunes  or  honours  were  comparable  to  the  love  and  favour  of  God  to 
them,  in  whose  name  he  blessed  them,  prayed  for  them,  and  committed  them 
to  his  protection : 

"  His  strict  charge  to  those  persons,  in  whose  custody  his  papers  were,  to 
burn  all  his  profane  and  lewd  writings,  as  being  only  fit  to  promote  vice  and 
immorality,  by  which  he  had  so  highly  offended  God,  and  shamed  and  blas- 
phemed that  holy  religion  into  which  he  had  been  baptized :  and  all  his 
obscene  and  filthy  pictures,  which  were  so  notoriously  scandalous  : 

"  His  readiness  to  make  restitution,  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  to  all  per- 
sons whom  he  had  injured  ;  and,  for  those  whom  he  could  not  make  a  com- 
pensation to,  he  prayed  for  God's  and  their  pardons.  His  remarkable  justice 
in  taking  all  possible  care  for  the  payment  of  his  debts,  which  before  he 
confessed  he  had  not  so  fairly  and  effectually  done  : 

"  His  readiness  to  forgive  all  injuries  done  against  him  ;  some  more  par- 
ticularly mentioned,  which  were  great  and  provoking ;  nay,  annexing  thereto 
all  the  assurance  of  a  future  friendship,  and  hoping  he  should  be  as  freely 
forgiven  at  the  hand  of  God. 

"  How  tender  and  concerned  was  he  for  his  servants  about  him  in  his 
extremities,  (manifested  by  the  beneficence  of  his  will  to  them,)  pitying  their 
troubles  in  watching  with  him  and  attending  him,  treating  them  with  can- 
dour and  kindness,  as  if  they  had  been  his  intimates  ! 

"  How  hearty  were  his  endeavours  to  be  serviceable  to  those  about  him, 
exhorting  them  to  the  fear  and  love  of  God,  and  to  make  a  good  use  of 
his  forbearance  and  long-suffering  to  sinners,  which  should  lead  them  to 
repentance  !  And  here  I  must  not  pass  by  his  pious  and  most  passionate 
exclamation  to  a  gentleman  of  some  character,  who  came  to  visit  him  upon 
his  death-bed;  *O  remember  that  you  contemn  God  no  more!  he  is  an 
avenging  God,  and  will  visit  you  for  your  sins ;  he  will,  in  mercy,  I  hope, 


650  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

most  penetrating  cutting  sorrow.  So  that  though  in  his  body  he 
suffered  extreme  pain,  for  some  weeks,  yet  the  agonies  of  his  mind 

touch  your  conscience,  sooner  or  later,  as  he  has  done  mine.  You  and  I 
have  been  friends  and  sinners  together  a  great  while,  therefore  I  am  the  more 
free  with  you.  We  have  been  all  mistaken  in  our  conceits  and  opinions,  our 
persuasions  have  been  false  and  groundless ;  therefore  God  grant  you  re- 
pentance.' And  seeing  him  the  next  day  again,  he  said  to  him,  *  Perhaps 
you  were  disobliged  by  my  plainness  to  you  yesterday ;  I  spake  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness  to  you,  and '  (striking  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  said,) 
*  I  hope  God  will  touch  your  heart.' 

"  Likewise  his  commands  to  me,  to  preach  abroad,  and  to  let  all  men 
know  (if  they  knew  it  not  already)  how  severely  God  had  disciplined  him  for 
his  sins  by  his  afflicting  hand;  that  his  sufferings  were  most  just  though  he 
had  laid  ten  thousand  times  more  upon  him ;  how  he  had  laid  one  stripe 
upon  another  because  of  his  grievous  provocations,  till  he  had  brought  him 
home  to  himself;  that,  in  his  former  visitations  he  had  not  that  blessed 
effect  he  was  now  sensible  of.  He  had  formerly  some  loose  thoughts  and 
slight  resolutions  of  reforming,  and  designed  to  be  better,  because  even  the 
present  consequences  of  sin  were  still  pestering  him,  and  were  so  trouble- 
some and  inconvenient  to  him :  but  that  now  he  had  other  sentiments  of 
things,  and  acted  upon  other  principles : 

"  His  willingness  to  die,  if  it  pleased  God,  resigning  himself  always  to  the 
divine  disposal ;  but,  if  God  should  spare  him  yet  a  longer  time  here,  he 
hoped  to  bring  glory  to  the  name  of  God  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  and 
particularly  by  his  endeavours  to  convince  others,  and  to  assure  them  of  the 
danger  of  their  condition,  if  they  continued  impenitent,  and  how  graciously 
God  had  dealt  with  him  : 

"  His  great  sense  of  his  obligations  to  those  excellent  men,  the  right 
reverend  my  lord  bishop  of  Oxford  [John  Fell],  and  Dr.  Marshal,  for  their 
charitable  and  frequent  visits  to  him,  and  prayers  with  him ;  and  Dr.  Burnet, 
who  came  on  purpose  from  London  to  see  him,  who  were  all  very  serviceable 
to  his  repentance  : 

"  His  extraordinary  duty  and  reverence  to  his  mother,  with  all  the  grateful 
respects  to  her  imaginable,  and  kindness  to  his  good  lady,  beyond  expression, 
(which  may  well  enhance  such  a  loss  to  them,)  and  to  his  children,  obliging 
them,  with  all  the  endearments  that  a  good  husband  or  a  tender  father  could 
bestow. 

"  To  conclude  these  remarks,  I  shall  only  read  to  you  his  dying  remon- 
strance, sufficiently  attested  and  signed  by  his  own  hand,  as  his  truest  sense, 
(which  I  hope  may  be  useful  for  that  good  end  he  designed  it,)  in  manner 
and  form  following : 

" '  For  the  benefit  of  all  those  whom  I  may  have  drawn  into  sin  by  my 
example  and  encouragement,  I  leave  to  the  world  this  my  last  declaration, 
which  I  deliver  in  the  presence  of  the  great  God,  who  knows  the  secrets  of 
all  hearts,  and  before  whom  I  am  now  appearing  to  be  judged  : 

"  *  That  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul,  I  detest  and  abhor  the  whole  course 
of  my  former  wicked  life;  that  I  think  I  can  never  sufficiently  admire  the 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  651 

sometimes  swallowed  up  the  sense  of  what  he  felt  in  his  body. 
He  told  me,  and  gave  it  me  in  charge,  to  tell  it  to  one  for  whom 
he  was  much  concerned,  that  though  there  were  nothing  to  come 
after  this  life,  yet  all  the  pleasures  he  had  ever  known  in  sin,  were 

goodness  of  God,  who  has  given  me  a  true  sense  of  my  pernicious  opinions 
and  vile  practices,  by  which  I  have  hitherto  lived  without  hope  and  without 
God  in  the  world ;  have  been  an  open  enemy  to  Jesus  Christ,  doing  the 
utmost  despite  to  the  Holy  Spirit  of  Grace.  And  that  the  greatest  testimony 
of  my  charity  to  such  is,  to  warn  them,  in  the  name  of  God,  and,  as  they 
regard  the  welfare  of  their  immortal  souls,  no  more  to  deny  his  being,  or  his 
providence,  or  despise  his  goodness ;  no  more  to  make  a  mock  of  sin,  or  con- 
temn the  pure  and  excellent  religion  of  my  ever  blessed  Redeemer,  through 
whose  merits  alone,  I,  one  of  the  greatest  sinners,  do  yet  hope  for  mercy  and 
forgiveness.  Amen. 

" ' J.  ROCHESTER/ 
"  '  Declared  and  signed 
in  the  presence  of 

"'ANNE  ROCHESTER. 
"  '  ROBERT  PARSONS. 
"  '  June  19,  1680.' 

"  And  now  I  cannot  but  mention,  with  joy  and  admiration,  that  steady 
temper  of  mind  which  he  enjoyed  through  the  whole  course  of  his  sickness 
and  repentance  ;  which  must  proceed,  not  from  a  hurry  and  perturbation  of 
mind  or  body,  arising  from  the  fear  of  death  or  dread  of  hell  only,  but  from 
an  ingenuous  love  to  God,  and  an  uniform  regard  to  virtue,  (suitable  to  that 
solemn  declaration  of  his,  '  I  would  not  commit  the  least  sin  to  gain  a 
kingdom/)  and  with  all  possible  symptoms  of  a  lasting  perseverance  in  it,  if 
God  should  have  restored  him.  To  which  may  be  added,  his  comfortable 
persuasions  of  God's  accepting  him  to  his  mercy,  saying,  three  or  four  days 
before  his  death,  '  I  shall  die,  but  oh,  what  unspeakable  glories  do  I  see  ! 
what  joys,  beyond  thought  or  expression,  am  I  sensible  of!  I  am  assured  of 
God's  mercy  to  me  through  Jesus  Christ.  Oh  how  I  long  to  die,  and  be 
with  my  Saviour  ! ' 

"The  time  of  his  sickness  and  repentance  was  just  nine  weeks;  in  all 
which  time  he  was  so  much  master  of  his  reason,  and  had  so  clear  an  under- 
standing, (saving  thirty  hours,  about  the  middle  of  it,  in  which  he  was  deli- 
rious,) that  he  had  never  dictated  or  spoke  more  composed  in  his  life  :  and 
therefore,  if  any  shall  continue  to  say  his  piety  was  the  eflPect  of  madness  or 
vapours,  let  me  tell  them,  it  is  highly  disingenuous,  and  that  the  assertion  is 
as  silly  as  it  is  wicked.  And,  moreover,  that  the  force  of  what  1  have  deli- 
vered may  be  not  evaded  by  wicked  men,  who  are  resolved  to  harden  their 
hearts,  maugre  all  convictions,  by  saying,  this  was  done  in  a  corner;  I 
appeal,  for  the  truth  thereof,  to  all  sorts  of  persons  who,  in  considerable 
numbers,  visited  and  attended  him,  and  more  particularly  to  those  eminent 
physicians  who  were  near  him,  and  conversant  with  him  in  the  whole  course 
of  his  tedious  sickness  ;  and  who,  if  any,  are  competent  judges  of  a  phrensy 
or  delirium." 


652  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

not  worth  that  torture  he  had  felt  in  his  mind.  He  considered 
he  had  not  only  neglected  and  dishonoured,  but  had  openly  defied 
his  Maker,  and  had  drawn  many  others  into  the  like  impieties : 
so  that  he  looked  on  himself  as  one  that  was  in  great  danger  of 
being  damned.  He  then  set  himself  wholly  to  turn  to  God 
unfeignedly,  and  to  do  all  that  was  possible  in  that  little  re- 
mainder of  his  life  which  was  before  him,  to  redeem  those  great 
portions  of  it,  that  he  had  formerly  so  ill  employed.  The  minister 
that  attended  constantly  on  him,  was  that  good  and  worthy  man 
Mr.  Parsons,  his  mother's  chaplain,  who  hath  since  his  death 
preached  according  to  the  directions  he  received  from  him,  his 
funeral  sermon  :  in  which  there  are  so  many  remarkable  pass;i 
that  I  shall  refer  my  reader  to  them,  and  will  repeat  none  of  them 
here,  that  I  may  not  thereby  lessen  his  desire  to  edify  himself  by 
that  excellent  discourse,  which  has  given  so  great  and  so  general 
a  satisfaction  to  all  good  and  judicious  readers.  I  shall  speak 
cursorily  of  every  thing,  but  that  which  I  had  immediately  from 
himself. 

He  was  visited  every  week  of  his  sickness  by  his  diocesan,  that 
truly  primitive  prelate,  the  lord  bishop  of  Oxford ;  who  though 
he  lived  six  miles  from  him,  yet  looked  on  this  as  so  important  a 
piece  of  his  pastoral  care,  that  he  went  often  to  him  ;  and  treated 
him  with  that  decent  plainness  and  freedom  which  is  so  natural 
to  him ;  and  took  care  also  that  he  might  not  on  terms  more  easy 
than  safe,  be  at  peace  with  himself.  Dr.  Marshal,  the  learned 
and  worthy  rector  of  Lincoln  college  in  Oxford,  being  the  minis- 
ter of  the  parish,  was  also  frequently  with  him :  and  by  these 
helps  he  was  so  directed  and  supported,  that  he  might  not  on  the 
one  hand  satisfy  himself  with  too  superficial  a  repentance,  nor  on 
the  other  hand  be  out  of  measure  oppressed  with  a  sorrow  with- 
out hope. 

As  soon  as  I  heard  he  was  ill,  but  yet  in  such  a  condition  that 
I  might  write  to  him,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  best  purpose  I  could. 
He  ordered  one  that  was  then  with  him,  to  assure  me  it  was  \<  ry 
welcome  to  him :  but  not  satisfied  with  that,  he  sent  nit 
answer,  which,  as  the  countess  of  Rochester,  his  mother,  told  in-  , 
he  dictated  every  word,  and  then  signed  it.  I  was  once  unwilling 
to  have  published  it,  because  of  a  compliment  in  it  to  my>«  If.  t;ir 
above  my  merit,  and  not  very  well  suiting  with  his  condition. 
But  the  sense  he  expresses  in  it  of  the  change  then  wrought  on 
him  hath  upon  second  thoughts  jn  vailed  with  me  to  publish  it. 
leaving  out  what  concerns  myself. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

Woodstock  Park, 
June  25,  1680,  Oxfordshire. 
My  most  honoured  Dr.  Burnet, 

My  spirits  and  body  decay  so  equally  together,  that  I  shall 
write  you  a  letter  as  weak  as  I  am  in  person.  I  begin  to  value 
churchmen  above  all  men  in  the  world,  &c.  If  God  be  yet 
pleased  to  spare  me  longer  in  this  world,  I  hope  in  your  conver- 
sation to  be  exalted  to  that  degree  of  piety,  that  the  world  may 
see  how  much  I  abhor  what  I  so  long  loved,  and  how  much  I 
glory  in  repentance,  and  in  God's  service.  Bestow  your  prayers 
upon  me,  that  God  would  spare  me  (if  it  be  his  good  will)  to  shew 
a  true  repentance  and  amendment  of  life  for  the  time  to  come : 
or  else  if  the  Lord  pleaseth  to  put  an  end  to  my  worldly  being 
now,  that  he  would  mercifully  accept  of  my  death-bed  repentance, 
and  perform  that  promise  that  he  hath  been  pleased  to  make,  that 
at  what  time  soever  a  sinner  doth  repent,  he  would  receive  him.  Put 
up  these  prayers,  most  dear  doctor,  to  almighty  God  for  your  most 
obedient  and  languishing  servant, 

ROCHESTER. 

He  told  me  when  I  saw  him,  that  he  hoped  I  would  come  to 
him  upon  that  general  insinuation  of  the  desire  he  had  of  my 
company :  and  he  was  loth  to  write  more  plainly,  not  knowing 
whether  I  could  easily  spare  so  much  time.  I  told  him,  that  on 
the  other  hand,  I  looked  on  it  as  a  presumption  to  come  so  far, 
when  he  was  in  such  excellent  hands ;  and  though  perhaps  the 
freedom  formerly  between  us,  might  have  excused  it  with  those 
to  whom  it  was  known  ;  yet  it  might  have  the  appearance  of  so 
much  vanity,  to  such  as  were  strangers  to  it;  so  that  till  I 
received  his  letter,  I  did  not  think  it  convenient  to  come  to  him. 
And  then  not  hearing  that  there  was  any  danger  of  a  sudden 
change,  I  delayed  going  to  him  till  the  20th  of  July.  At  my 
coming  to  his  house  an  accident  fell  out  not  worth  mentioning, 
but  that  some  have  made  a  story  of  it.  His  servant  being  a 
Frenchman 9,  carried  up  my  name  wrong,  so  that  he  mistook  it  for 
another,  who  had  sent  to  him,  that  he  would  undertake  his  cure ; 
and  he  being  resolved  not  to  meddle  with  him,  did  not  care  to  see 
him.  This  mistake  lasted  some  hours,  with  which  I  was  the 

9  A  Frenchman.']  Named  Blancourt  or  Blancort,  whose  name  occurs  several 
times  in  his  letters. 


654  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

better  contented,  because  he  was  not  then  in  such  a  condition, 
that  my  being  about  him  could  have  been  of  any  use  to  him ;  for 
that  night  was  like  to  have  been  his  last.  He  had  a  convulsion 
fit,  and  raved ;  but  opiates  being  given  him,  after  some  hours 
rest,  his  raving  left  him  so  entirely,  that  it  never  again  returned 
to  him. 

I  cannot  easily  express  the  transport  he  was  in,  when  he  awoke 
and  saw  me  by  him.  He  brake  out  in  the  tenderest  expressions 
concerning  my  kindness  in  coming  so  far  to  see  such  an  one,  using 
terms  of  great  abhorrence  concerning  himself,  which  I  forbear  to 
relate.  He  told  me,  as  his  strength  served  him  at  several 
snatches,  (for  he  was  then  so  low,  that  he  could  not  hold  up  dis- 
course long  at  once,)  what  sense  he  had  of  his  past  life;  what 
sad  apprehension  for  having  so  offended  his  Maker,  and  disho- 
noured his  Redeemer :  what  horrors  he  had  gone  through,  and 
how  much  his  mind  was  turned  to  call  on  God,  and  on  his  cruci- 
fied Saviour :  so  that  he  hoped  he  should  obtain  mercy,  for  he 
believed  he  had  sincerely  repented ;  and  had  now  a  calm  in  his 
mind  after  that  storm  that  he  had  been  in  for  some  weeks.  He 
had  strong  apprehensions  and  persuasions  of  his  admittance  to 
heaven :  of  which  he  spake  once  not  without  some  extraordinary 
emotion.  It  was  indeed  the  only  time  that  he  spake  with  any 
great  warmth  to  me  :  for  his  spirits  were  then  low,  and  so  far 
spent,  that  though  those  about  him  told  me,  he  had  expressed 
formerly  great  fervour  in  his  devotions  ;  yet  nature  was  so  much 
sunk,  that  these  were  in  a  great  measure  fallen  off.  But  he  made 
me  pray  often  with  him ;  and  spoke  of  his  conversion  to  God  as 
a  thing  now  grown  up  in  him  to  a  settled  and  calm  serenity. 

He  was  very  anxious  to  know  my  opinion  of  a  death-bed 
repentance.  I  told  him,  that  before  I  gave  any  resolution  in  that, 
it  would  be  convenient  that  I  should  be  acquainted  more  parti- 
cularly with  the  circumstances  and  progress  of  his  repentance. 

Upon  this  he  satisfied  me  in  many  particulars.  He  said,  he 
was  now  persuaded  both  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  of  the 
power  of  inward  grace,  of  which  he  gave  me  this  strange  account. 
He  said,  Mr.  Parsons,  in  order  to  his  conviction,  read  to  him 
the  53d  chapter  of  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah,  and  compared  that 
with  the  history  of  our  Saviour's  passion,  that  he  might  there  see 
a  prophecy  concerning  it,  written  many  ages  before  it  was  done ; 
which  the  Jews  that  blasphemed  Jesus  Christ  still  kept  in  their 
hands  as  a  book  divinely  inspired.  He  said  to  me,  "  that  as  he 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  655 

heard  it  read,  he  felt  an  inward  force  upon  him,  which  did  so 
enlighten  his  mind,  and  convince  him,  that  he  could  resist  it  no 
longer  :  for  the  words  had  an  authority  which  did  shoot  like  rays 
or  beams  in  his  mind ;  so  that  he  was  not  only  convinced  by  the 
reasonings  he  had  about  it,  which  satisfied  his  understanding, 
but  by  a  power  which  did  so  effectually  constrain  him,  that  he 
did  ever  after  as  firmly  believe  in  his  Saviour,  as  if  he  had  seen 
him  in  the  clouds."  He  had  made  it  be  read  so  often  to  him, 
that  he  had  got  it  by  heart ;  and  went  through  a  great  part  of  it 
in  discourse  with  me,  with  a  sort  of  heavenly  pleasure,  giving  me 
his  reflections  on  it.  Some  few  I  remember  :  Who  hath,  believed 
our  report  ?  (ver.  1.)  Here,  he  said,  was  foretold  the  opposition 
the  Gospel  was  to  meet  with  from  such  wretches  as  he  was.  He 
hath  no  form  nor  comeliness,  and  when  we  shall  see  him,  there  is  no 
beauty  that  we  should  desire  him  (ver.  2).  On  this  he  said,  the 
meanness  of  his  appearance  and  person  has  made  vain  and  foolish 
people  disparage  him,  because  he  came  not  in  such  a  fool's  coat 
as  they  delight  in.  What  he  said  on  the  other  parts  I  do  not 
well  remember  :  and  indeed  I  was  so  affected  with  what  he  said 
then  to  me,  that  the  general  transport  I  was  under  during  the 
whole  discourse,  made  me  less  capable  to  remember  these  parti- 
culars as  I  wish  I  had  done. 

He  told  me,  that  he  had  thereupon  received  the  sacrament 
with  great  satisfaction,  and  that  was  increased  by  the  pleasure  he 
had  in  his  lady's  receiving  it  with  him  ;  who  had  been  for  some 
years  misled  in  the  communion  of  the  church  of  Home,  and  he 
himself  had  been  not  a  little  instrumental  in  procuring  it,  as  he 
freely  acknowledged.  So  that  it  was  one  of  the  joyfullest  things 
that  befel  him  in  his  sickness,  that  he  had  seen  that  mischief 
removed,  in  which  he  had  so  great  a  hand ;  and  during  his  whole 
sickness,  he  expressed  so  much  tenderness  and  true  kindness  to 
his  lady,  that  as  it  easily  defaced  the  remembrance  of  every  thing 
wherein  he  had  been  in  fault  formerly,  so  it  drew  from  her  the 
most  passionate  care  and  concern  for  him  that  was  possible: 
which  indeed  deserves  a  higher  character  than  is  decent  to  give 
of  a  person  yet  alive.  But  I  shall  confine  my  discourse  to  the 
dead. 

He  told  me,  he  had  overcome  all  his  resentments  to  all  the 
world ;  so  that  he  bore  ill  will  to  no  person,  nor  hated  any  upon 
personal  accounts.  He  had  given  a  true  state  of  his  debts,  and  had 
ordered  to  pay  them  all,  as  far  as  his  estate  that  was  not  settled 


656  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

could  go  ;  and  was  confident  that  if  all  that  was  owing  to  him 
were  paid  to  his  executors,  his  creditors  would  be  all  satisfied. 
He  said,  he  found  his  mind  now  possessed  with  another  sense  of 
things,  than  ever  he  had  formerly.  He  did  not  repine  under  all 
his  pain ;  and  in  one  of  the  sharpest  fits  he  was  under  while  I 
was  with  him,  he  said,  he  did  willingly  submit ;  and  looking  up 
to  heaven,  said,  "  God's  holy  will  be  done.  I  bless  him  for  all  he 
does  to  me."  He  professed  he  was  contented  either  to  die  or 
live,  as  should  please  God.  And  though  it  was  a  foolish  thing  for 
a  man  to  pretend  to  choose,  whether  he  would  die  or  live,  yet  he 
wished  rather  to  die.  He  knew  he  could  never  be  so  well,  that 
life  should  be  comfortable  to  him.  He  was  confident  he  should 
be  happy  if  he  died,  but  he  feared  if  he  lived  he  might  relapse. 
"  And  then,"  said  he  to  me,  "  in  what  a  condition  shall  I  be,  if  I 
relapse  after  all  this?  But,"  he  said,  "he  trusted  in  the  grace 
and  goodness  of  God,  and  was  resolved  to  avoid  all  those  temp- 
tations, that  course  of  life,  and  company,  that  was  likely  to 
insnare  him :  and  he  desired  to  live  on  no  other  account,  but  that 
he  might  by  the  change  of  his  manners,  some  way  take  off  the 
high  scandal  his  former  behaviour  had  given."  All  these  things 
at  several  times  I  had  from  him,  besides  some  messages  which 
very  well  became  a  dying  penitent  to  some  of  his  former  friends, 
and  a  charge  to  publish  any  thing  concerning  him,  that  might  be 
a  mean  to  reclaim  others ;  praying  God,  that  as  his  life  had  done 
much  hurt,  so  his  death  might  do  some  good. 

Having  understood  all  these  things  from  him,  and  being  pres>-  <1 
to  give  him  my  opinion  plainly  about  his  eternal  state ;  I  told 
him  that  though  the  promises  of  the  Gospel  did  all  depend  upon 
a  real  change  of  heart  and  life,  as  the  indispensable  condition 
upon  which  they  were  made ;  and  that  it  was  scarce  possible  to 
know  certainly  whether  our  hearts  are  changed,  unless  it  appeared 
in  our  lives ;  and  the  repentance  of  most  dying  men,  being  like 
the  bowlings  of  condemned  prisoners  for  pardon,  which  fl" 
from  no  sense  of  their  crimes,  but  from  the  horror  of  approaching 
death ;  there  was  little  reason  to  encourage  any  to  hope  murh 
from  such  sorrowing :  yet  certainly  if  the  mind  of  a  sinner,  even 
on  a  death-bed,  be  truly  renewed  and  turned  to  God,  so  great  is 
his  mercy,  that  he  will  receive  him,  even  in  that  extremity. 

He  said,  he  was  sure  his  mind  was  entirely  turned,  and  though 
horror  had  given  him  his  first  awaking,  yet  that  was  now  grown 
up  into  a  settled  faith  and  conversion. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  657 

There  is  but  one  prejudice  lies  against  all  this,  to  defeat  the 
good  ends  of  Divine  Providence  by  it  upon  others,  as  well  as  on 
himself;  and  that  is,  that  it  was  a  part  of  his  disease,  and  that 
the  lowness  of  his  spirits  made  such  an  alteration  in  him,  that  he 
was  not  what  he  had  formerly  been  :  and  this  some  have  carried 
so  far  as  to  say  that  he  died  mad 10.  These  reports  are  raised  by 
those  who  are  unwilling  that  the  last  thoughts  or  words  of  a  per- 
son, every  way  so  extraordinary,  should  have  any  effect  either  on 
themselves  or  others  :  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  some  may  have 
so  far  seared  their  consciences,  and  exceeded  the  common  mea- 
sures of  sin  and  infidelity,  that  neither  this  testimony,  nor  one 
coming  from  the  dead,  \vould  signify  much  towards  their  convic- 
tion. That  this  lord  was  either  mad  or  stupid,  is  a  thing  so 
notoriously  untrue,  that  it  is  the  greatest  impudence  for  any  that 
were  about  him  to  report  it ;  and  a  very  unreasonable  credulity 
in  others  to  believe  it.  All  the  while  I  was  with  him,  after  he 
had  slept  out  the  disorders  of  the  fit  he  was  in  the  first  night,  he 
was  not  only  without  ravings,  but  had  a  clearness  in  his  thoughts, 
in  his  memory,  in  his  reflections  on  things  and  persons,  far  beyond 
what  I  ever  saw  in  a  person  so  low  in  his  strength.  He  was  not 
able  to  hold  out  long  in  discourse,  for  his  spirits  failed :  but  once 
for  half  an  hour,  and  often  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  after  he 
awakened  he  had  a  vivacity  in  his  discourse  that  was  extraordi- 
nary and  in  all  things  like  himself.  He  called  often  for  his  chil- 
dren, his  son,  the  now  earl  of  Rochester  *,  and  his  three  daughters, 

10  Died  mad.']  See  below,  the  third  and  fourth  letters  of  the  dowager 
countess  of  Rochester. 

1  His  son,  the  now  earl  of  Rochester.']  The  two  following  letters  to  this  son, 
who  survived  his  father  only  one  year,  are  now  first  printed  from  the  originals. 

"  Charles,  I  take  it  very  kindly  that  you  write  to  me  (though  seldom)  and 
wish  heartily  you  would  behave  yourself  so  as  that  I  might  shew  how  much 
I  love  you  without  being  ashamed :  obedience  to  your  grandmother  and 
those  who  instruct  you  in  good  things  is  the  way  to  make  you  happy  here 
and  for  ever:  avoid  idleness,  scorn  lying,  and  God  will  bless  you,  for  which 

I  pray 

"  ROCHESTER." 

"  I  hope  Charles  when  you  receive  this,  and  know  that  I  have  sent  this 
gentleman  to  be  your  tutor,  you  will  be  very  glad  to  see  I  take  such  care  of 
you,  and  be  very  grateful,  which  is  best  shewn  in  being  obedient  and  diligent. 
You  are  now  grown  big  enough  to  be  a  man,  if  you  can  be  wise  enough ;  and 
the  way  to  be  truly  wise  is  to  serve  God  :  learne  your  book,  and  observe  the 
instructions  of  your  parents  first,  and  next  your  tutor,  to  whom  I  have  en- 
tirely resigned  you  for  this  seven  yeare;  and  according  as  you  employ  that 

VOL.  IV.  U  U 


658  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

and  spake  to  them  with  a  sense  and  feeling  that  cannot  be  ex- 
pressed in  writing.  He  called  me  once  to  look  on  them  all,  and 
said,  "  See  how  good  God  has  been  to  me,  in  giving  me  so  many 
blessings ;  and  I  have  carried  myself  to  him  like  an  ungracious 
and  unthankful  dog."  He  once  talked  a  great  deal  to  me  of 
public  affairs  and  of  many  persons  and  things,  with  the  same 
clearness  of  thought  and  expression,  that  he  had  ever  done  before. 
So  that  by  no  sign,  but  his  weakness  of  body,  and  giving  over 
discourse  so  soon,  could  I  perceive  a  difference  between  what  his 
parts  formerly  were,  and  what  they  were  then. 

And  that  wherein  the  presence  of  his  mind  appeared  most, 
was  in  the  total  change  of  an  ill  habit  grown  so  much  upon  him, 
that  he  could  hardly  govern  himself,  when  he  was  any  \ 
heated,  three  minutes  without  falling  into  it :  I  mean  swearing, 
He  had  acknowledged  to  me  the  former  winter,  that  he  abhorred 
it  as  a  base  and  indecent  thing,  and  had  set  himself  much  to 
break  it  off:  but  he  confessed  that  he  was  so  overpowered  by 
that  ill  custom,  that  he  could  not  speak  with  any  warmth,  with- 
out repeated  oaths,  which  upon  any  sort  of  provocation  came 
almost  naturally  from  him.  But  in  his  last  remorses  this  did  so 
sensibly  affect  him,  that  by  a  resolute  and  constant  watchfulness 
the  habit  of  it  was  perfectly  mastered  ;  so  that  upon  the  returns 
of  pain,  which  were  very  severe  and  frequent  upon  him,  the  last 
day  I  was  with  him ;  or  upon  such  displeasures  as  people  sick  or 
in  pain  are  apt  to  take  of  a  sudden  at  those  about  them ;  on 
all  these  occasions  he  never  swore  an  oath  all  the  while  I 
there. 

Once  he  was  offended  with  the  delay  of  one  that  he  thought 
made  not  haste  enough  with  somewhat  he  called  for,  and  said  in 
a  little  heat,  "  that  damned  fellow."  Soon  after  I  told  him,  I 
was  glad  to  find  his  style  so  reformed,  and  that  he  had  so  entire!} 
overcome  that  ill  habit  of  swearing ;  only  that  word  of  calling 
any  damned,  which  had  returned  upon  him,  was  not  de< 
His  answer  was,  "Oh  that  language  of  fiends,  which  was  so 
familiar  to  me,  hangs  yet  about  me.  Sure  none  has  deserved 

time,  you  are  to  be  happy  or  unhappy  for  ever;  but  I  have  so  good  an  opinion 
of  you,  that  I  am  glad  to  think  you  will  never  deceive  me.     Dear  cl 
learn  your  book  and  be  obedient,  and  you  will  see  what  a  father  I  will 
you.    You  shall  want  no  pleasure  while  you  are  good,  and  that  you  m:i 
so  are  my  constant  prayers 

"  For  my  lord  Wilraot." 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  659 

more  to  be  damned  than  I  have  done."  And  after  he  had 
humbly  asked  God  pardon  for  it,  he  desired  me  to  call  the  person 
to  him,  that  he  might  ask  him  forgiveness :  but  I  told  him  that 
was  needless,  for  he  had  said  it  of  one  that  did  not  hear  it,  and 
so  could  not  be  offended  by  it. 

In  this  disposition  of  mind  did  he  continue  all  the  while  I  was 
with  him,  four  days  together :  he  was  then  brought  so  low  that 
all  hope  of  recovery  was  gone.  Much  purulent  matter  came 
from  him  with  his  urine,  which  he  passed  always  with  some  pain, 
but  one  day  with  inexpressible  torment :  yet  he  bore  it  decently, 
without  breaking  out  into  repinings,  or  impatient  complaints. 
He  imagined  he  had  a  stone  in  his  passage,  but  it  being  searched, 
none  was  found.  The  whole  substance  of  his  body  was  drained 
by  the  ulcer,  and  nothing  was  left  but  skin  and  bone,  and  by 
lying  much  on  his  back,  the  parts  there  began  to  mortify.  But 
he  had  been  formerly  so  low,  that  he  seemed  as  much  past  all 
hopes  of  life  as  now ;  which  made  him  one  morning,  after  a  full 
and  sweet  night's  rest,  procured  by  laudanum,  given  him  without 
his  knowledge,  to  fancy  it  was  an  effort  of  nature,  and  to  begin 
to  entertain  some  hopes  of  recovery :  for  he  said,  he  felt  himself 
perfectly  well,  and  that  he  had  nothing  ailing  him,  but  an  extreme 
weakness,  which  might  go  off  in  time :  and  then  he  entertained 
me  with  the  scheme  he  had  laid  down  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  how 
retired,  how  strict,  and  how  studious  he  intended  to  be.  But 
this  was  soon  over,  for  he  quickly  felt  that  it  was  only  the  effect 
of  a  good  sleep,  and  that  he  was  still  in  a  very  desperate  state. 

I  thought  to  have  left  him  on  Friday,  but  not  without  some 
passion,  he  desired  me  to  stay  that  day.  There  appeared  no 
symptom  of  present  death  ;  and  a  worthy  physician  then  with 
him,  told  me,  that  though  he  was  so  low  that  an  accident  might 
carry  him  away  on  a  sudden ;  yet  without  that,  he  thought  he 
might  live  yet  some  weeks.  So  on  Saturday,  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  I  left  him,  being  the  24th  of  July.  But  I  durst 
not  take  leave  of  him ;  for  he  had  expressed  so  great  an  unwil- 
lingness to  part  with  me  the  day  before,  that  if  I  had  not 
presently  yielded  to  one  day's  stay,  it  was  likely  to  have  given 
him  some  trouble ;  therefore  I  thought  it  better  to  leave  him 
without  any  formality.  Some  hours  after  he  asked  for  me,  and 
when  it  was  told  him,  I  was  gone,  he  seemed  to  be  troubled,  and 
said,  "  Has  my  friend  left  me  ?  then  I  shall  die  shortly."  After 
that  he  spake  but  once  or  twice  till  he  died.  He  lay  much  silent : 

u  u  2 


660  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

once  they  heard  him  praying  very  devoutly.  And  on  Monday, 
about  two  o^clock  in  the  morning,  he  died,  without  any  convulsion, 
or  so  much  as  a  groan.  (July  26,  1680.) 


THUS  he  lived,  and  thus  he  died,  in  the  three  and  thirtieth 
year  of  his  age.  Nature  had  fitted  him  for  great  things,  and  his 
knowledge  and  observation  qualified  him  to  have  been  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  men,  not  only  of  his  nation,  but  of  the  age 
he  lived  in :  and  I  do  verily  believe,  that  if  God  had  thought  n't 
to  have  continued  him  longer  in  the  world,  he  had  been  the 
wonder  and  delight  of  all  that  knew  him.  But  the  infinitely 
wise  God  knew  better  what  was  fit  for  him,  and  what  the  age 
deserved.  For  men  who  have  so  cast  off  all  sense  of  God  and 
religion,  deserve  not  so  signal  a  blessing,  as  the  example  and 
conviction  which  the  rest  of  his  life  might  have  given  them. 
And  I  am  apt  to  think  that  the  divine  goodness  took  pity  on 
him ;  and  seeing  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance,  would  try  and 
venture  him  no  more  in  circumstances  of  temptation,  perhaps  too 
hard  for  human  frailty.  Now  he  is  at  rest ;  and  I  am  very 
confident  enjoys  the  fruits  of  his  late,  but  sincere  repentance. 
But  such  as  live,  and  still  go  on  in  their  sins  and  impieties,  and 
will  not  be  awakened  neither  by  this,  nor  the  other  alarms  that 
are  about  their  ears,  are,  it  seems,  given  up  by  God  to  a  judicial 
hardness  and  impenitency. 

Here   is   a  public  instance  of  one  who  lived  of  their  sidi\ 
but  could  not  die  of  it.     And  though  none  of  all  our  libertines 
understood  better  than  he,  the  secret  mysteries  of  sin  ;  had  more 
studied  every  thing  that  could  support  a  man  in  it ;  and  had 
more  resisted  all  external  means  of  conviction  than  he  had  d< 
yet  when  the  hand  of  God  inwardly  touched  him,  he  could  no 
longer  kick  against  those  pricks,  but  humbled  himself  under 
mighty  hand ;  and  as  he  used  often  to  say  in  his  prayers,  he 
had  so  often  denied  him  found  then  no  other  shelter  but  his  nu  / 
and  compassions. 

I  have  written  this  account  with  all  the  tenderness  and  caution 
I  could  use;   and  in  whatsoever  I  may  have  failed,  I  hav 
strict  in  the  truth  of  what  I  have  related,  remembering  tli, 
Job,  will  ye  lie  for  God?     Religion  has  strength  ami  t  \i«l 
enough  in  itself,  and  needs  no  support  from  lies,  and  made  stor 
I  do  not  pretend  to  have  given  the  formal  words  that  h«  >ai<l. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  661 

though  I  have  done  that  where  I  could  remember  them.  But  I 
have  written  this  with  the  same  sincerity,  that  I  would  have 
done,  had  I  known  I  had  been  to  die  immediately  after  I  had 
finished  it.  I  did  not  take  notes  of  our  discourses  last  winter 
after  we  parted ;  so  I  may  perhaps  in  the  setting  out  of  my 
answers  to  him,  have  enlarged  on  several  things  both  more  fully 
and  more  regularly,  than  I  could  say  them  in  such  free  dis- 
courses as  we  had.  I  am  not  so  sure  of  all  I  set  down  as  said 
by  me,  as  I  am  of  all  said  by  him  to  me.  But  yet  the  substance 
of  the  greatest  part,  even  of  that,  is  the  same. 

It  remains  that  I  humbly  and  earnestly  beseech  all  that  shall 
take  this  book  in  their  hands,  that  they  will  consider  it  entirely : 
and  not  wrest  some  parts  to  an  ill  intention.  God,  the  searcher 
of  hearts,  knows  with  what  fidelity  I  have  writ  it.  But  if  any 
will  drink  up  only  the  poison  that  may  be  in  it,  without  taking 
also  the  antidote  here  given  to  those  ill  principles ;  or  consider- 
ing the  sense  that  this  great  person  had  of  them,  when  he 
reflected  seriously  on  them ;  and  will  rather  confirm  themselves 
in  their  ill  ways,  by  the  scruples  and  objections  which  I  set 
down,  than  be  edified  by  the  other  parts  of  it ;  as  I  will  look  on 
it  as  a  great  infelicity,  that  I  should  have  said  any  thing  that 
may  strengthen  them  in  their  impieties,  so  the  sincerity  of  my 
intentions  will,  I  doubt  not,  excuse  me  at  His  hands,  to  Whom  I 
offer  up  this  small  service. 

I  have  now  performed,  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  what  was 
left  on  me  by  this  noble  lord,  and  have  done  with  the  part  of  an 
historian.  I  shall  in  the  next  place  say  somewhat  as  a  divine. 
So  extraordinary  a  text  does  almost  force  a  sermon,  though  it  is 
plain  enough  itself,  and  speaks  with  so  loud  a  voice,  that  those 
who  are  not  awakened  by  it,  will  perhaps  consider  nothing  that 
I  can  say.  If  our  libertines  will  become  so  far  sober  as  to 
examine  their  former  course  of  life,  with  that  disengagement  and 
impartiality,  which  they  must  acknowledge  a  wise  man  ought  to 
use  in  things  of  greatest  consequence,  and  balance  the  account  of 
what  they  have  got  by  their  debaucheries,  with  the  mischiefs  they 
have  brought  on  themselves  and  others  by  them,  they  will  soon 
see  what  a  mad  bargain  they  have  made.  Some  diversion,  mirth, 
and  pleasure  is  all  they  can  promise  themselves ;  but  to  obtain 
this,  how  many  evils  are  they  to  suffer  2  How  have  many  wasted 
their  strength,  brought  many  diseases  on  their  bodies,  and  pre- 
cipitated their  age  in  the  pursuit  of  those  things  ?  and  as  they 


662  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

bring  old  age  early  on  themselves,  so  it  becomes  a  miserable 
state  of  life  to  the  greatest  part  of  them ;  gouts,  stranguries,  and 
other  infirmities,  being  severe  reckonings  for  their  past  follies ; 
not  to  mention  the  more  loathsome  diseases,  with  their  no  less 
loathsome  and  troublesome  cures,  which  they  must  often  go 
through,  who  deliver  themselves  up  to  forbidden  pleasures. 
Many  are  disfigured  beside  with  the  marks  of  their  intemperance 
and  lewdness,  and  which  is  yet  sadder,  an  infection  is  derived 
oftentimes  on  their  innocent,  but  unhappy  issue,  who  being 
descended  from  so  vitiated  an  original,  suffer  for  their  excesses. 
Their  fortunes  are  profusely  wasted,  both  by  their  neglect  of 
their  affairs,  (they  being  so  buried  in  vice,  that  they  cannot 
employ  either  their  time  or  spirits,  so  much  exhausted  by  intem- 
perance, to  consider  them ;)  and  by  that  prodigal  expence  which 
their  lusts  put  them  upon.  They  suffer  no  less  in  their  credit, 
the  chief  mean  to  recover  an  entangled  estate ;  for  that  irregular 
expence  forceth  them  to  so  many  mean  shifts,  makes  them  so 
often  false  to  all  their  promises  and  resolutions,  that  they  must 
needs  feel  how  much  they  have  lost  that  which  a  gentleman,  and 
men  of  ingenuous  tempers  do  sometimes  prefer  even  to  life 
itself,  their  honour  and  reputation.  Nor  do  they  suffer  less  in 
the  nobler  powers  of  their  minds,  which,  by  a  long  course  of  such 
dissolute  practices,  come  to  sink  and  degenerate  so  far,  that  not 
a  few,  whose  first  blossoms  gave  the  most  promising  hopes,  have 
so  withered,  as  to  become  incapable  of  great  and  generous  under- 
takings, and  to  be  disabled  to  every  thing,  but  to  wallow  like 
swine  in  the  filth  of  sensuality,  their  spirits  being  dissipated,  and 
their  minds  so  numbed,  as  to  be  wholly  unfit  for  business,  and 
even  indisposed  to  think. 

That  this  dear  price  should  be  paid  for  a  little  wild  mirth,  or 
gross  and  corporeal  pleasure,  is  a  thing  of  such  unparalleled  folly, 
that  if  there  were  not  too  many  such  instances  before  us,  it  might 
seem  incredible.     To  all  this  we  must  add  the  horrors  that  their 
ill  actions  raise  in  them,  and  the  hard  shifts  they  are  put  to  to 
stave  off  these,  either  by  being  perpetually  drunk  or  mad,  or  by 
an  habitual  disuse  of  thinking  and  reflecting  on  their  act! 
(and  if  these  arts  will  not  perfectly  quiet  them)  by  taking  m 
tuary  in  such  atheistical  principles  as  may  at  least  mitigate  the 
sowerness  of  their  thoughts,  though  they  cannot  absolutely  .*• 
their  minds. 

If  the  state  of  mankind  and  human  societies  are  con 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  663 

what  mischiefs  can  be  equal  to  those  which  follow  these  coin- 
Such  persons  are  a  plague  wherever  they  come ;  they  can  neither 
be  trusted  nor  beloved,  having  cast  off  both  truth  and  goodness, 
which  procure  confidence  and  attract  love.  They  corrupt  some 
by  their  ill  practices,  and  do  irreparable  injuries  to  the  rest ;  they 
run  great  hazards,  and  put  themselves  to  much  trouble,  and  all 
this  to  do  what  is  in  their  power  to  make  damnation  as  sure  to 
themselves  as  possibly  they  can.  What  influence  this  has  on  the 
whole  nation  is  but  too  visible ;  how  the  bonds  of  nature,  wed- 
lock, and  all  other  relations,  are  quite  broken.  Virtue  is  thought 
an  antique  piece  of  formality,  and  religion  the  effect  of  cowardice 
or  knavery.  These  are  the  men  that  would  reform  the  world,  by 
bringing  it  under  a  new  system  of  intellectual  and  moral  princi- 
ples ;  but  bate  them  a  few  bold  and  lewd  jests,  what  have  they 
ever  done,  or  designed  to  do,  to  make  them  be  remembered,  ex- 
cept it  be  with  detestation  ?  They  are  the  scorn  of  the  present 
age,  and  their  names  must  rot  in  the  next.  Here  they  have 
before  them  an  instance  of  one  who  was  deeply  corrupted  with 
the  contagion  which  he  first  derived  from  others,  but  unhappily 
heightened  it  much  himself.  He  was  a  master  indeed,  and  not  a 
bare  trifler  with  wit,  as  some  of  these  are  who  repeat,  and  that 
but  scurvily,  what  they  may  have  heard  from  him  or  some  others, 
and  with  impudence  and  laughter  will  face  the  world  down,  as  if 
they  were  to  teach  it  wisdom ;  who,  God  knows,  cannot  follow 
one  thought  a  step  further  than  as  they  have  conned  it ;  and, 
take  from  them  their  borrowed  wit  and  their  mimical  humour, 
and  they  will  presently  appear  what  they  indeed  are,  the  least  and 
lowest  of  men. 

If  they  will,  or  if  they  can  think  a  little,  I  wish  they  would 
consider  that  by  their  own  principles,  they  cannot  be  sure  that 
religion  is  only  a  contrivance;  all  they  pretend  to  is  only  to 
weaken  some  arguments  that  are  brought  for  it :  but  they  have 
not  brow  enough  to  say,  they  can  prove  that  their  own  principles 
are  true.  So  that  at  most  they  bring  their  cause  no  higher,  than 
that  it  is  possible  religion  may  not  be  true.  But  still  it  is  possible 
it  may  be  true,  and  they  have  no  shame  left  that  will  deny  that  it 
is  also  probable  it  may  be  true  ;  and  if  so,  then  what  madmen  are 
they  who  run  so  great  a  hazard  for  nothing  ?  By  their  own  con- 
fession it  may  be  there  is  a  God,  a  judgment,  and  a  life  to  come ; 
and  if  so,  then  he  that  believes  these  things,  and  lives  according 
to  them,  as  he  enjoys  a  long  course  of  health  and  quiet  of  mind, 


664  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

an  innocent  relish  of  many  true  pleasures,  and  the  serenities 
which  virtue  raises  in  him,  with  the  good  will  and  friendship 
which  it  procures  him  from  others ;  so  when  he  dies,  if  these 
things  prove  mistakes,  he  does  not  out-live  his  error,  nor  shall  it 
afterwards  raise  trouble  or  disquiet  in  him  if  he  then  ceases  to 
be :  but  if  these  things  be  true,  he  shall  be  infinitely  happy  in 
that  state,  where  his  present  small  services  shall  be  so  exces- 
sively rewarded.  The  libertines  on  the  other  side,  as  they  know 
they  must  die,  so  the  thoughts  of  death  must  be  always  melan- 
choly to  them ;  they  can  have  no  pleasant  view  of  that  which 
yet  they  know  cannot  be  very  far  from  them.  The  least  painful 
idea  they  can  have  of  it  is,  that  it  is  an  extinction  and  ceasing  to 
be,  but  they  are  not  sure  even  of  that.  Some  secret  whispers 
within  make  them,  whether  they  will  or  not,  tremble  at  the  ap- 
prehensions of  another  state ;  neither  their  tinsel  wit,  nor  super- 
ficial learning,  nor  their  impotent  assaults  upon  the  weak  side  as 
they  think  of  religion,  nor  the  boldest  notions  of  impiety,  will 
hold  them  up  then.  Of  all  which  I  now  present  so  lively  an 
instance,  as  perhaps  history  can  scarce  parallel. 

Here  were  parts  so  exalted  by  nature,  and  improved  by  study, 
and  yet  so  corrupted  and  bebased  by  irreligion  and  vice,  that  he 
who  was  made  to  be  one  of  the  glories  of  his  age  was  become  a 
proverb,  and  if  his  repentance  had  not  interposed,  would  have 
been  one  of  the  greatest  reproaches  of  it.  He  knew  well  the 
small  strength  of  that  weak  cause,  and  at  first  despised,  but 
afterwards  abhorred  it.  He  felt  the  mischiefs,  and  saw  the  mad- 
ness of  it ;  and  therefore,  though  he  lived  to  the  scandal  of  many, 
he  died  as  much  to  the  edification  of  all  those  who  saw  him ; 
and  because  they  were  but  a  small  number,  he  desired  that  he 
might  even  when  dead,  yet  speak.  He  was  willing  nothing  should 
be  concealed  that  might  cast  reproach  on  himself  and  on  sin,  and 
offer  up  glory  to  God  and  religion.  So  that  though  he  lived  a 
heinous  sinner,  yet  he  died  a  most  exemplary  penitent. 

It  would  be  a  vain  and  ridiculous  inference  for  any  from  hence 
to  draw  arguments  about  the  abstruse  secrets  of  predestination ; 
and  to  conclude  that  if  they  are  of  the  number  of  the  elect,  tiny 
may  live  as  they  will,  and  that  Divine  Grace  will,  at  some  tum- 
or other,  violently  constrain  them,  and  irresistibly  work  upon 
them.  But  as  St.  Paul  was  called  to  that  eminent  service  for 
which  he  was  appointed,  in  so  stupendous  a  manner,  as  i- 
warrrant  for  others  to  expect  such  a  vocation ;  so  if  upon  some 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  665 

signal  occasions  such  conversions  fall  out,  which,  how  far  they 
are  short  of  miracles,  I  shall  not  determine,  it  is  not  only  a  vain 
but  a  pernicious  imagination,  for  any  to  go  on  in  their  ill  ways, 
upon  a  fond  conceit,  and  expectation  that  the  like  will  befal  them : 
for  whatsoever  God's  extraordinary  dealings  with  some  may  be, 
we  are  sure  his  common  way  of  working  is  by  offering  these 
things  to  our  rational  faculties,  which,  by  the  assistances  of  his 
grace,  if  we  improve  them  all  we  can,  shall  be  certainly  effectual 
for  our  reformation ;  and  if  we  neglect  or  abuse  these,  we  put 
ourselves  beyond  the  common  methods  of  God's  mercy,  and  have 
no  reason  to  expect  that  wonders  should  be  wrought  for  our  con- 
viction ;  which  though  they  sometimes  happen,  that  they  may 
give  an  effectual  alarm  for  the  awaking  of  others,  yet  it  would 
destroy  the  whole  design  of  religion,  if  men  should  depend  upon, 
or  look  for  such  an  extraordinary  and  forcible  operation  of  God's 
grace. 

And  I  hope  that  those  who  have  had  some  sharp  reflections  on 
their  past  life,  so  as  to  be  resolved  to  forsake  their  ill  courses, 
will  not  take  the  least  encouragement  to  themselves  in  that  des- 
perate and  unreasonable  resolution  of  putting  off  their  repentance 
till  they  can  sin  no  longer,  from  the  hopes  I  have  expressed  of 
this  lord's  obtaining  mercy  at  the  last ;  and  from  thence  presume 
that  they  also  shall  be  received,  when  they  turn  to  God  on  their 
death-beds.  For  what  mercy  soever  God  may  shew  to  such  as 
really  were  never  inwardly  touched  before  that  time  ;  yet  there  is 
no  reason  to  think  that  those  who  have  dealt  so  disingenuously 
with  God  and  their  own  souls,  as  designedly  to  put  off  their 
turning  to  him,  upon  such  considerations,  should  be  then  accepted 
with  him.  They  may  die  suddenly,  or  by  a  disease  that  may  so 
disorder  their  understandings,  that  they  shall  not  be  in  any  capa- 
city of  reflecting  on  their  past  lives.  The  inward  conversion  of 
our  minds  is  not  so  in  our  power,  that  it  can  be  effected  without 
Divine  Grace  assisting.  And  there  is  no  reason  for  those  who 
have  neglected  these  assistances  all  their  lives  to  expect  them  in 
so  extraordinary  manner  at  their  death.  Nor  can  one,  especially 
in  a  sickness,  that  is  quick  and  critical,  be  able  to  do  those  things 
that  are  often  indispensably  necessary  to  make  his  repentance 
complete ;  and  even  in  a  longer  disease,  in  which  there  are  larger 
opportunities  for  these  things,  yet  there  is  great  reason  to  doubt 
of  a  repentance  begun  and  kept  up  merely  by  terror,  and  not 
from  any  ingenuous  principle.  In  which,  though  I  will  not  take 


666  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

on  me  to  limit  the  mercies  of  God,  which  are  boundless  ;  yet  this 
must  be  confessed,  that  to  delay  repentance,  with  such  a  design, 
is  to  put  the  greatest  concernment  we  have  upon  the  most  dan- 
gerous and  desperate  issue  that  is  possible. 

But  they  that  will  still  go  on  in  their  sins,  and  be  so  partial  to 
them,  as  to  use  all  endeavours  to  strengthen  themselves  in  their 
evil  course,  even  by  these  very  things  which  the  providence  of 
God  sets  before  them,  for  the  casting  down  of  these  strong  holds 
of  sin ;  what  is  to  be  said  to  such  ?  it  is  to  be  feared,  that  if  they 
obstinately  persist,  they  will  by  degrees  come  within  that  curse, 
He  that  is  unjust,  let  him  be  unjust  still :  and  he  that  is  filthy,  let 
him  be  filthy  still.  But  if  our  gospel  is  hid,  it  is  hid  to  them  that 
are  lost,  in  whom  the  god  of  this  world  hath  blinded  the  minds  of 
them  which  believe  not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ, 
who  is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  unto  them. 


"FIVE  LETTERS8  OF  ANN,  COUNTESS  DOWAGEE  OF  ROCHESTER, 
WROTE  WHEN  EIGHTY  YEARS  OLD,  TO  HER  SISTER-IN-LAW. 
LADY  ST.  JOHN,  GIVING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  HER  SON^S  BEHAVIOUR 
DURING  HIS  SICKNESS,  COPIED  FROM  THE  ORIGINALS  IN  Till. 
HANDS  OF  MRS.  MEREDITH3,  GRAND-DAUGHTER  TO  LADY  BT, 


LETTER  I. 

Sweet  Sister,  [June,  1680.] 

It  has  pleased  God  to  lay  his  afflictive  hand  upon  my  poor 
son,  in  visiting  of  him  with  a  sore  sickness ;  and  whether  for  life 

2  Five  letters.]  We  have  seen  (p.  605)  that  Burnet's  work  was  probably 
revised  by  his  friend  Tillotson.  The  archbishop's  biographer,  Dr.  Birch, 
says,  "  The  credit  of  the  doctor's  book,  and  the  sincerity  of  the  earl's  re- 
pentance, would  be  fully  established,  if  they  wanted  any  additional  evidence, 
by  the  publication  of  FIVE  LETTERS,  still  extant,  by  his  mother,  Anne, 
countess  dowager  of  Rochester,  and  sister  of  sir  Walter  St.  John  of  Batter- 
sea,  bart.,  to  that  gentleman's  lady,  Johanna,  daughter  of  the  lord  chief 
justice  St.  John  [and  grandmother  of  lord  Bolingbroke].  These  letters  were 
written  during  her  son's  last  illness ;  and  show  him  to  have  been,  during  the 
course  of  it,  fully  possessed  of  his  understanding.  One  particular  in  them 
deserves  to  be  mentioned  here ;  that,  when  one  of  the  earl's  physicians, 
thinking  to  please  him,  told  him  that  the  king  drank  his  health  some  days 
before,  he  looked  earnestly  upon  him,  and  said  never  a  word,  but  turnc 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  667 

or  death,  we  cannot  guess :  but  he  is  reducM  to  great  weakness, 
in  the  outward  man.  But,  in  the  midst  of  punishment,  HE  lm^ 
remembered  mercy,  and  strengthened  him  in  the  inward  man,  to 
the  comfort  of  me,  his  poor  mother.  For  never  all  the  former 
sicknesses  he  has  had,  did,  in  the  least  measure,  work  so  much 
upon  him,  to  the  knowledge  and  acknowledgment  of  God,  and  to 
repentance  of  his  former  life,  and  the  sense  how  he  has  gone 
astray,  as  this  doth. 

I  am  not  able  to  write  you  a  long  letter :  I  can  only  say  this, 
that,  tho'  he  lies  under  as  much  misery,  almost,  as  human  man 
can  bear,  yet  he  bears  his  sufferings  with  so  much  patience,  and 
resignation  to  God's  will,  that,  I  confess,  I  take  more  comfort 
in  him,  under  this  visitation,  than  ever  I  did  in  all  my  life  before ; 
and  tho'  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  not  to  work  this  work  upon 
him  till  the  last  hour,  yet,  I  have  great  reason  to  believe,  he  will 
find  mercy,  thro'  the  merits  and  satisfaction  of  Christ,  on  whom 
he  throws  himself,  for  the  favour  of  God. 

0  sister,  I  am  sure,  had  you  heard  the  heavenly  prayers  he 
has  made  since  this  sickness ;  the  extraordinary  things  he  has 
said,  to  the  wonder  of  all  that  has  heard  him,  you  would  wonder, 
and  think  that  God  alone  must  teach  him ;  for  no  man  could  put 
into  him  such  things  as  he  says.     He  has,  I  must  tell  you  too, 
converted  his  wife4  to  be  a  protestant  again.     Pray,  pray  for  his 
perseverance,  dear  sister ;   and  pardon  me,  that  I  can  say  no 
more,  but  to  rest  madam, 

Your  affectionate  servant, 

ANN  ROCHESTER. 

1  did  not  receive  the  letter  Mr.  Foot  says  you  sent  by  the 
post. 

To  the  Lady  St.  John,  at  her  house, 
at  Battersea. 

face  from  him."— Life  of  Tillotson,  p.  73.  Dr.  Birch  had  evidently  seen  and 
used  the  transcript  (headed  as  above)  which  had  been  made  by  his  friend, 
Dr.  John  Ward,  professor  of  rhetoric  in  Gresham  College.  Dr.  Ward  be- 
queathed his  MSS.,  in  Nov.  1757,  to  the  British  Museum,  and  from  them 
the  letters  are  noW  printed.  Bishop  Jebb  has  printed  them,  in  his  edition  of 
Burnet's  Lives  and  Characters,  from  a  transcript  made  by  Mrs.  Chapone. 

3  Mrs.  Meredith.']  Johanna,  daughter  of  Thomas  Cholmondeley  of  Vale 
Royal,  by  Anne,  daughter  of  sir  Walter  St.  John.     She  married  Amos  Mere- 
dith, eldest  son  of  sir  William  Meredith,  bart.,  of  Ashley.     Her  husband 
died  in  May,  1744,  in  his  father's  life  time. 

4  Converted  his  wife.]  See  p.  256. 


668  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 


LETTER  II. 

My  dear  Sister,  [June,  1680.] 

Mr.  Blankort 5  did  not  deliver  me  your  letter,  till  this  Monday 
morning;  and  just  now,  I  am  going  to  Adderbury',  where 
have  not  been  these  five  weeks ;  but  intend  to  return  to  my  soi 
again  in  a  day.  The  account  I  can  give  you  of  him,  is  much 
my  last :  he  continues  weak  ;  but  is  sometimes  better  than  he  is 
others.  The  greatest  comfort  he  enjoys,  is  his  sleep ;  and  that 
he  does  much.  He  has  a  kind  of  a  hectick  fever r  upon  him, 
the  doctors  call  it ;  which  is  not  at  all  times ;  for,  sometimes,  his 
temper  is  good  outwardly,  but,  the  doctor  says,  he  is  hot  ii 
wardly ;  yet  I  cannot  think  it,  because  he  is  seldom  dry.  He 
drinks  asses1  milk 7,  and  it  digests  well  with  him ;  and  soi 
other  spoon-meats ;  but  he  takes  no  broaths  made  with  m< 
for  fear  of  heat.  He  spits  mightily,  within  these  two  days; 
which  some  say  is  good  for  him :  but  I  find  all  evacuations 
weaken  him.  I  confess,  I  cannot  discern  amendment  in  him 
yet;  but,  as  long  as  life  is,  we  have  hopes.  I  thank  God, 
his  sense  continues  very  well,  and  when  his  strength  will  give 
him  leave,  expresses  himself  with  great  devotion,  both  upon 
account  of  his  former  ill  life,  with  great  humility  he  lays 
himself  low,  before  the  throne  of  Grace,  begging  favour  and 
pardon  from  God,  upon  the  account  of  the  merits  of  Christ 
alone ;  acknowledging  himself  the  greatest  of  sinners.  Truly, 
sister,  I  think  I  may  say,  without  partiality,  that  he  has  been 
never  heard  say,  when  he  speaks  of  religion,  an  unsensible  word, 
nor  of  any  thing  else ;  but  one  night,  of  which  I  writ  you  word, 
he  was  disordered  in  his  head  ;  but  then,  he  said  no  hurt ;  only 
some  little  ribble- rabble,  which  had  no  hurt  in  it.  But  it  was 
observed  by  his  wife  and  I  particularly  that,  whenever  he  spoke 
of  God  that  night,  he  spoke  well  and  with  great  sense ;  which 
we  wondered  at.  Since  that  night,  he  has  never  had  a  minute 
of  disorder  in  his  head ;  that  was  amost  a  fortnight  ago. 

This  last  night,  if  you  had  heard  him  pray,  I  am  sure,  you  would 
not  have  took  his  words  for  the  words  of  a  madman ;  but  such 
as  came  from  a  better  spirit  than  the  mind  of  mere  man.  Hut 
let  the  wicked  of  the  world  say  what  they  please  of  him,  the  re- 

5  Mr.  Blankort.']  Lord  Rochester's  French  servant,  see  p.  653. 
8  Adderbury.]  About  ten  miles  north  of  Woodstock,  near  Banbury,  where 
lord  Rochester's  countess  usually  lived.     See  p.  607. 
7  Hectick  fever  .  .  .  asses'  milk.']  See  p.  602. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

proaches  of  them  are  an  honour  to  him :  and  I  take  comfort, 
that  the  devil  rages  against  my  son ;  it  shows  his  power  over  him 
is  subdued  in  him,  and  that  he  has  no  share  in  him.  Many 
messages  and  compliments  his  old  acquaintance  send  him  :  but 
he  is  so  far  from  receiving  of  them,  that  still  his  answer  is,  .  .  l  Let 
me  see  none  of  them,  and  I  would  to  God,  I  had  never  conversed 
with  some  of  them.'  One  of  his  physicians,  thinking  to  please 
him,  told  him  the  king  drank  his  health  the  other  day ;  he  lookM 
earnestly  upon  him,  and  said  never  a  word,  but  turn'd  his  face 
from  him.  I  thank  God,  his  thoughts  are  wholly  taken  off  from 
the  world,  and,  I  hope,  whether  he  lives  or  dies,  will  ever  be  so. 
But  they  are  fine  people  at  Windsor,  God  forgive  them  !  Sure 
there  never  was  so  great  a  malice  performed,  as  to  intitle  my 
poor  son  to  a  lampoon8,  at  this  time,  when,  for  ought  they  know, 

8  Lampoon.']  It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  "  men  of  the  world  " 
and  libertines,  such  as  Buckingham  and  others  of  lord  Rochester's  former 
profligate  tutors  and  companions,  the  "  fine  people  at  Windsor,"  should,  in 
this  manner,  and  even  at  this  time.,  try  to  avenge  themselves  for  his  satires 
on  them,  aggravated  as  their  ill  feelings  probably  were  by  what  they  heard  of 
his  repentance  for  his  sins,  and  of  his  abhorrence  of  those  who  were  associated 
with  him  in  them.  The  publication,  immediately  after  lord  Rochester's 
death,  of  Dr.  Burnet's  account  of  his  penitence,  cast  shame  upon  the  sur- 
vivors, who  profited  not  by  the  example  and  the  warning  which  it  held  forth. 

Lord  Rochester  had  confessed  to  Burnet,  as  we  have  seen,  the  composition 
of  many  libels  and  satires,  "  in  which  he  had  a  peculiar  talent,"  and,  before 
better  thoughts  were,  by  God's  grace,  infused  into  his  mind,  he  had  attempted 
to  excuse  and  even  to  justify  them ;  but  in  all  the  plenitude  of  his  confession 
he  had  avowed  the  writing  nothing  worse.  One  very  important  fact  towards 
a  due  estimation  of  his  character,  is  that  he  had  scarcely  printed  one ;  the 
circulation  of  these  satires  was  chiefly  confined  to  those  about  the  court,  and 
the  evil  was  therefore  in  a  manner  circumscribed,  and  known  only  to  those 
who  were  perhaps  too  bad  to  be  made  worse.  On  his  death-bed  lord  Rochester 
gave  "  strict  charge  to  those  in  whose  custody  his  papers  were,  to  burn  all  his 
profane  and  lewd  writings,  as  being  only  fit  to  promote  vice  and  immorality, 
by  which  he  had  so  highly  offended  God,  and  shamed  and  blasphemed  that 
holy  religion  into  which  he  had  been  baptized."  There  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  this  request  was  neglected  or  disobeyed  :  on  the  contrary  his  mother  is 
known  to  have  destroyed  them.  But  if,  as  Burnet  says,  it  was  the  case  during 
lord  Rochester's  life,  "  when  any  thing  extraordinary  in  the  way  of  satire  came 
out,  as  a  child  is  fathered  sometimes  by  its  resemblance,  so  it  was  laid  at  his 
doors  as  its  parent  and  author,"  can  we  wonder  that  after  his  death  his  name 
was  made  use  of  to  cover  the  infamy  of  others,  those  others,  once  his  false 
friends,  now  his  worst  enemies,  who  were  led  to  avenge  themselves  by  blas- 
pheming his  memory  ?  It  is  certain,  and  we  use  the  words  advisedly,  that  lord 
Rochester  is  not  the  author,  nor  to  be  held  responsible  for  all,  if  any,  of  this 


670  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

he  lies  upon  his  death-bed,  My  comfort  is,  that  he  will  partake 
of  that  joy,  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  in  the  highest  Heavens, 
that  you  wish  him,  I  hope.  Last  night,  the  very  expression  you 
have  made,  in  your  good  wishes  for  his  soul,  he  made  to  God,  in 
the  conclusion  of  his  prayer,  last  night,  .  .  '  That  he  might  enjoy 
that  unspeakable  bliss,  of  a  place  in  heaven,  (tho1  he  were  but  a 
door-keeper fl,)  to  sing  to  the  Lord  with  the  heavenly  host.1 

I  do  believe,  if  any  has  reported,  that  he  should  speak  ridi- 
culous, it  has  been  the  popish  physician  ;  who,  one  day,  listened 
at  the  door,  whilst  my  son  was  conversing  with  a  divine :  but  my 
son  spoke  so  low  that  he  could  hear  but  half  words ;  and  so  he 
might  take  it  for  nonsense,  because  he  had  a  mind  so  to  do. 
But,  I  thank  (rod,  my  son  lays  hold  on  the  merits  of  his  Saviour, 
Jesus  Christ,  for  all  his  comfort  from  God :  in  whose  arms,  I 


kind  that  may  have  been  published  as  his  after  his  death.  This  is  capable  of 
proof.  Yet  how  unfairly  has  he  been  treated,  and  upon  what  insufficient 
grounds  besides !  To  a  vile  travesty  of  Burnet's  work,  purporting  to  be 
inscribed  to  the  duchess  of  Mazarin,  one  of  Charles'  mistresses,  St.  Evremond's 
name  has  been  forged.  Count  Anthony  Hamilton's  too  well  known  romance, 
wherein  not  one  word  of  truth  is  to  be  found,  save  the  mere  names  of  the 
persons  mentioned  in  it,  and  written  to  place  money  in  the  pocket  of  the 
worthless  French  coxcomb  who  is  the  subject  of  it,  and  who,  at  the  age  of 
eighty,  was  base  enough  to  hawk  it  about  for  sale,  was  not  written  till  twenty 
years  after  Rochester's  death,  nor  printed  till  1713,  more  than  thirty  years 
after  his  death,  and  nearly  half  a  century  after  the  time  it  speaks  of!  The 
author  represents  lord  Rochester  as  the  practised  and  guilty  hero  of  many 
adventures,  placing  them  all  before  his  marriage,  yet  he  was  married  before  he 
was  nineteen  years  old  !  On  this  work  Horace  Walpole  has  stamped  his  tinsel 
approbation,  which  has  been  received  by  the  blind  herd  of  common  readers  ; 
and  he  has  also  given,  as  far  as  he  could,  currency  to  a  belief  in  the  forgeries 
to  which  we  have  alluded,  by  calling  lord  Rochester  "a  man  whom  the  M 
were  fond  to  inspire,  but  ashamed  to  avow."  Yet  lord  Rochester  wrote 
scarcely  any  thing  worse  than  did  Horace  Walpole  himself,  whose  friends  un- 
asked did  for  him,  what  Rochester  requested  might  be  done  with  penitence 
and  tears.  Dr.  Johnson  appears  to  have  partly  believed  the  charge,  and  he 
has  thereupon  condemned  lord  Rochester;  but,  however  unjust  in  this  respect 
he  may  inadvertently  have  been,  he  has  done  good  service  by  the  strong,  yet 
judicious  praise  which  he  has  given  to  Burnet's  work — praise  which  has 
caused  it  to  be  read  by  thousands,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  with  benefit,  who  might 
otherwise  have  been  deterred  by  the  very  name  of  Rochester.  It  is  a  very  sig- 
nificant fact,  that  during  the  last  hundred  years  no  peer  of  England  has  borne 
or  taken  the  title  of  Rochester;  Rochester  is  the  only  city  in  England  of 
which  that  can  be  said. 

9  A  door-keeper.']  Ps.  Ixxiv.  10. 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  671 

trust,  he  will  be  receiv'd,  whene'ere  he  goes  out  of  this  world  ; 
which  is  the  greatest  comfort  she  has,  who  is 

Madam, 
Your  affectionate  Sister, 

ANN  ROCHESTER. 

My  daughter  Eo.  and  my  son,  remember  their  service  to  you 
and  my  brother,  to  whom  I  present  my  affections. 

For  the  lady  St.  John's  at  sir  Walter  St  John's 
house  at  Battersay,  These. 

LETTER  III. 

June  19.  [1680.] 

I  must,  dear  sister,  give  you  an  account  of  the  first  hopes  of 
comfort  I  have  of  my  son  Rochester ;  who,  tho'  he  is  very  weak, 
yet  these  two  days  has  produced  strange  alterations  in  him.  He 
sleeps  very  well,  is  but  little  feverish,  his  great  tortures  of  pain 
almost  abated,  gathers  some  strength,  tho'  but  little  yet.  But 
God  is  infinitely  merciful,  upon  all  accounts,  both  to  his  soul  and 
body.  'Tis  my  great  hopes  he  will  persevere  in  the  way  God  has 
put  him  in  for  his  soul's  happiness. 

I  cannot  omit  one  passage  lately :  Mr.  Fanshaw 10,  his  great 
friend,  has  been  here  to  see  him ;  and  as  he  was  standing  by  my 
son's  bed-side,  he  look'd  earnestly  upon  him,  and  said, '  Fanshaw  ! 
think  of  a  God,  let  me  advise  you  ;  and  repent  you  of  your  former 
life,  and  amend  your  ways.  Believe  what  I  say  to  you ;  there  is 
a  God,  and  a  powerful  God,  and  he  is  a  terrible  God  to  unrepenting 
sinners !  the  time  draws  near,  that  he  will  come  to  judgment, 
with  great  terrour  to  the  wicked ;  therefore,  delay  not  your  repent- 
ance :  his  displeasure  will  thunder  against  you,  if  you  do  believe 
me,  do  not  defer  the  time.  You  and  I  have  been  long  acquainted, 
done  ill  together.  I  love  the  man ;  and  speak  to  him  out  of 
conscience,  for  the  good  of  his  soul.'  Fanshaw  stood,  and  said 
never  a  word  to  him,  but  stole  away  out  of  the  room.  When  my 
son  saw  him  go,  '  Is  a  gone  ? '  says  he,  '  poor  wretch  !  I  fear  his 

10  Mr.  Fanshaw^}  Most  probably  Charles,  afterwards  fourth  viscount  Fan- 
shawe,  of  Ireland,  of  whom  Pepys,  in  his  Diary,  February  23,  16G8,  thus 
speaks  :  "  A  fellow  at  court,  a  brother  of  my  lord  Fanshawe's,  (a  witty,  but 
rascally  fellow,  without  a  penny  in  his  purse)  that  was  asking  him  what 
places  there  were  in  the  navy  fit  for  him,  and  Brisbane  tells  me  in  mirth,  he 
told  him  the  clerke  of  the  acts,  and  I  wish  he  had  it,  so  I  were  well  and 
quietly  rid  of  it."  He  died  in  1710. 


672  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

heart  is  hardened/  After  that,  Fanshaw  said  to  some  in  the 
house,  that  my  son  should  be  kept  out  of  melancholy  fancies. 
This  was  told  my  son  again  :  upon  which  says  he,  4 1  know  why 
he  said  that ;  it  was  because  I  gave  him  my  advice ;  but  I  could 
say  no  less  to  him  than  I  did,  let  him  take  it  as  he  pleases/ 

Dear  sister,  my  hope  is  great,  and  God  is  good,  on  whom  I 
depend  for  good,  both  for  his  soul  and  body.  I  believe,  I  have 
tired  you  with  my  discourse.  I  have  nothing  more  at  present, 
but  to  assure  you 

I  am,  Madam, 
Your  faithful  friend  and  servant, 

A.  Ro. 

You  must  not  let  Mr.  Fanshaw  know  what  I  have  told  you. 
Before  I  sealed  this,  I  received  your*s,  and  two  waters  for  my  son 
Ro. ;  he  and  his  lady  give  you  thanks,  and  present  their  service 
to  you.  I  thank  God,  my  son  continues,  at  all  times,  very  devout, 
ever  since  God  struck  him  with  a  sense  of  his  sins.  He  is  very 
tender  and  fearful,  but  it  does  not  carry  him  to  despair.  He  is 
sensible  the  satisfaction  of  Christ  is  his  support ;  and  relies  wholly 
upon  Chrises  merits,  for  his  salvation.  This  day  has  not  been  so 
good  a  day  with  him,  as  yesterday ;  he  has  had  some  faint  fits. 

[direction  torn  off.] 


LETTER    IV. 

June  26.  [1 680.] 

I  am  sure,  dear  sister,  "'tis  your  desire  to  hear  sometime  how 
my  poor  weak  son  does ;  he  gives  us  little  hopes  of  his  life,  his 
weakness  increasing  so  much.  But  as  his  outward  man  decays, 
I  thank  God,  his  inward  increases  and  strengthens ;  for  he  is 
very  pious,  and  devout,  and  willing  to  resign  himself  into  tin- 
arms  of  his  Saviour,  when  God  pleases  to  take  him. 

I  hear  Mr.  Fanshaw  reports  *  my  son  is  mad ;  but,  I  thank 

1  Mr.  Fanshaw  reports."]  The  following  statement  is  now  first  printed  from 
the  original. 

"  When  Wilmot,  lord  Rochester,  lay  on  his  deathbed,  Mr.  —  Fanshaw 
came  to  visit  him,  with  an  intention  to  stay  about  a  week  with  him.  Mr. 
Fanshaw  sitting  by  the  bedside,  perceived  his  lordship  praying  to  God  through 
Jesus  Christ,  and  acquainted  Dr.  Radcliffe  (who  attended  my  lord  R.  in  this 
illness  and  was  then  in  the  house)  with  what  he  had  heard,  and  told  him 
that  my  lord  was  certainly  delirious,  for  to  his  knowledge  (he  said)  li- 
ttered neither  in  God  nor  Jesus  Christ.  The  doctor  (who  had  often  heard 
him  pray  in  the  same  manner)  proposed  to  Mr.  F.  to  go  up  to  his  lor< . 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  673 

God,  he  is  far  from  that.  I  confess  for  a  night,  and  part  of  a 
day,  for  want  of  rest,  his  head  was  a  little  disordered ;  but  it  was 
long  since  Mr.  Fanshaw  saw  him.  When  he  reprov'd  him  for 
his  sinful  life,  he  was  as  well  in  his  head,  as  ever  he  was  in  his 
life ;  and  so  he  is  now,  I  thank  God.  I  am  sure,  if  you  heard 
him  pray,  you  wou'd  think  God  had  inspired  him  with  true 
wisdom  indeed ;  and  that  neither  folly  nor  madness  comes  near 
him.  I  wish  that  wretch  Fanshaw  had  so  great  a  sense  of  sin, 
as  my  poor  child  has  ;  that  so  he  might  be  brought  to  repent- 
ance, before  it  is  too  late  :  but  he  is  an  ungrateful  man  to  such 
a  friend. 

Dear  sister,  pray  for  us  ;  and  believe  me  to  be, 

Madam, 
Your  faithful  friend  &  servant, 

A.  ROCHESTER. 

My  son  and  my  daughter  present  their  service  to  you  ;  and 
we  all  thank  you  for  your  waters. 

[The  direction  torn  off.] 

to  be  further  satisfied  touching  this  affair.  When  they  came  to  his  room,  the 
doctor  told  my  lord  what  Mr.  F.  said,  upon  which  his  lordship  addressed 
himself  to  Mr.  F.  to  this  effect :  *  Sir,  it  is  true  you  and  I  have  been  very 
lewd  and  profane  together,  and  then  I  was  of  the  opinion  you  mention  :  but 
now  I  am  quite  of  another  mind,  and  happy  am  I  that  I  am  so.  I  am  very 
sensible  how  insensible  I  was  whilst  of  another  opinion.  Sir,  you  may 
assure  yourself  that  there  is  a  Judge  of  future  state ;'  and  so  entered  into  a 
very  handsome  discourse  concerning  the  last  judgment,  future  state,  &c.,  and 
concluded  with  a  serious  and  pathetic  exhortation  to  Mr.  F.  to  enter  into 
another  course  of  life,  adding  that  he  (Mr.  F.)  knew  him  to  be  his  friend, 
that  he  never  was  more  so  than  at  this  time  :  and  sir  (said  he),  to  use  a  scrip- 
tural expression,  I  am  not  mad,  but  speak  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness. 
Upon  this  Mr.  F.  trembled,  and  went  immediately  a  foot  to  Woodstock,  and 
there  hired  a  horse  to  Oxford,  and  thence  took  coach  to  London.  At  the 
same  time,  Dr.  Shorter  (who  also  attended  my  lord  in  this  illness)  and  Dr. 
Radcliffe  walking  together  in  the  park,  and  discoursing  touching  his  lord- 
ship's condition,  which  they  agreed  to  be  past  remedy,  Dr.  Shorter,  fetching 
a  very  deep  sigh,  '  Well,  I  can  do  him  no  good,  but  he  has  done  me  a  great 
deal.'  When  Dr.  Radcliffe  came  to  reside  in  London,  he  made  enquiry  about 
Dr.  Shorter,  and  understood  he  was,  before  that  time,  a  libertine  in  principles, 
but  after  that  professed  the  Roman  Catholick  religion.  I  heard  Dr.  Rad- 
cliffe give  this  account  at  my  lord  Oxford's  table  (then  speaker  of  the  house 
of  commons,  June  16,  1702).  Present  (besides  Mr.  Speaker)  lord  Wey- 
mouth,  Mr.  Bromley  of  Warwickshire,  Mr.  William  Harvey,  Mr.  Pendarvis, 
Mr.  Henry  St.  John,  and  I  wrote  it  down  immediately. 

"  WM.  THOMAS." 

VOL.   IV.  X  X 


674  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

LETTEE    V. 

July  the  2d  [1680.] 

I  did,  dear  madam,  receive  your's  dated  the  28th  of  June ; 
full  of  kindness,  and  full  of  Christianity,  in  your  good  wishes  and 
kindness  to  my  poor  sick  son ;  who,  I  thank  God,  is  yet  alive : 
but,  whether  it  will  please  God  to  restore  him  again  out  of  his 
bed  of  sickness,  none  but  HIMSELF  knows.  He  is  full  of  mercy 
and  good  upon  all  accounts  ;  and  my  prayers  are,  that,  whether 
my  poor  son  lives  or  dies,  the  Lord  may  be  glorified  in  all.  His 
conversion  is  mercy  enough  for  us :  tho"*  we  enjoy  him  not  in  this 
world,  the  comfortable  hopes,  that  he  will  be  a  saint  in  Heaven, 
is  beyond  my  expression. 

I  cannot  tell  you  that  there  is  much  sign  of  a  recovery  of  my 
son,  tho"*  his  fever  has  left  him :  little  heats  he  has  still ;  which, 
we  imagine,  proceeds  from  his  ulcer.  But  that  as  I  like  worst 
in  him,  is,  he  gathers  no  strength  at  all ;  but  his  flesh  wastes 
much,  and  we  fear  a  consumption,  tho"*  his  lungs  are  very  good. 
He  sleeps  much ;  his  head,  for  the  most  part,  is  very  well.  He 
was  this  day  taken  up,  and  set  up  in  a  chair,  for  an  hour ;  and 
was  not  very  faint,  when  he  went  to  bed.  He  does  not  care  to 
talk  much,  but  when  he  does,  speaks,  for  the  most  part,  well. 
His  expressions  are  so  suddenly  spoken,  that  many  of  them  are 
lost,  and  cannot  be  taken ;  yet,  I  believe,  some  of  what  he  has 
said  will  be  remembred. 

1  told  my  son,  that  I  heard  Mr.  Fanshaw  said,  that  he  hopM 
he  wou'd  recover,  and  leave  those  principles  he  now  professed. 
He  answered,  4  Wretch  !  I  wish  I  had  conversed  all  my  life-time 
with  link-boys,  rather  than  with  him,  and  that  crew ;  such,  I  mean, 
as  Fanshaw  is.     Indeed,  I  wouM  not  live,  to  return  to  what  I 
was2,  for  all   the  world/     I  desire  the   continuance   of  your 

2  To  return  to  what  I  was.']  We  have  a  parallel  to  the  temptations  to  which 
Rochester  was  subjected  from  his  former  wicked  companions,  in  a  picture, 
the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  humble  life. 

"  When  the  clattering  of  their  nail-shod  feet  was  over,  I  went  close  to  the 
bed-side,  and  said,  '  Richard,  you  must  be  careful  about  these  men.  I 
strongly  suspect  that  they  came  here,  upon  learning  that  you  were  so  much 
better,  in  order  to  tell  you,  that  they  expected  soon  to  see  you  amongst  them 
again.  Was  this  so  ?  *  'It  was,  sir/  he  answered.  *  Ah  !  Richard, 
Richard,'  I  went  on ;  '  you  will  be  in  great  danger,  if  you  recover  enough 
to  go  abroad.  Will  these  people  attend  to  what  I  have  been  pressing  upon 
them?'  '  Only,  I  fear,  for  a  little  while,'  was  his  reply.  'And  I  fear  so 
too,'  I  said ;  '  so  that  you  must  beware  of  them  to  the  very  utmost  of 


EARL  OF  ROCHESTER.  675 

prayers,  and  all  the  good  people  who  has  been  kind,  in  remem- 
bring  my  son  in  their  prayers.  I  told  him,  that  you  pray'd  for 
him  heartily.  He  said,  .  .  '  Pray  thank  my  good  aunt ;  and 
remember  my  service  to  her,  and  my  uncle."*  My  daughter  re- 
members her  service  to  you.  Dear  sister,  whatever  becomes  of 
me,  through  my  afflictions,  I  am  sincerely 

Madam, 
Your  faithful  friend,  and  affectionate  servant, 

A.  ROCHESTER. 
For  the  Lady  St.  John  at  Batersay. 

Leave  this  to  be  sent  with  safety,  at  Mr.  Dryden's 8 
in  Kings  Street,  at  the  sign  of  the  pestle  and 
mortar,  Westminster,  London. 


The  following  letter,  the  original  of  which  is  amongst  the 
Tanner  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  at  Oxford,  shows  that 
besides  the  helps  mentioned  by  bishop  Burnet,  in  p.  635,  that  the 
earl  acknowledged  himself  under  special  obligations  to  Dr. 
Thomas  Pierce,  afterwards  dean  of  Salisbury. 

"  THE     EARL     OF     ROCHESTER      TO      DR.     THOMAS      PIERCE,     OF 
MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  OXON. 

"  My  indisposition  renders  my  intellectuals  almost  as  feeble 
as  my  person ;  but,  considering  the  candour  and  extream  charity 

power,  if  you  wish  to  remain  in  the  favour  of  God,  and  in  the  faith  of 
Christ,  and  in  the  hope  of  being  saved. — And  I  must  remind  you  of  one 
thing  which  is  very  terrible;  that  they  who  fall  back  into  their  former 
courses,  after  having  been  once  rescued  from  them,  become  ten  times  more 
the  children  of  the  devil  than  before. — God  grant  that  this  may  not  be  your 
case.  And  now  I  will  kneel  down  and  pray  with  you :'  which  having  done, 
I  rose  and  hastened  away." 

The  above  is  from  Death-bed  Scenes  and  Pastoral  Conversations,  vol.  i. 
chap.  vi.  p.  228,  one  of  the  most  instructive  and  valuable  works  in  pastoral 
theology  ever  written ;  and  which  I  venture  to  recommend  strongly  to  my 
readers,  especially  to  the  younger  clergy.  The  work  purports  to  be  by  John 
Warton,  D.D.,  but  the  real  author  is  the  late  William  Wood,  B.D.,  student 
of  Christ  Church,  vicar  of  Fulham,  and  prebendary  of  Canterbury. 

3  At  Mr.  Dryden's.~]  "  Erasmus  Dryden,  the  poet's  immediate  younger 
brother,  was  in  trade,  and  resided  in  King-street,  Westminster.  He  suc- 
ceeded to  the  family  title  and  estate,  upon  the  death  of  sir  John  Dryden, 
and  died  at  the  seat  of  Canons- Ashby,  November  3,  1718."— Scott's  Life  of 
Dryden,  p.  25. 

x  x  2 


676  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER. 

your  natural  mildness  hath  always  shewed  me,  I  am  assured  at 
once  both  of  a  favorable  construction  of  my  present  lines,  which 
can  but  faintly  express  the  sorrowful  character  of  an  humble  and 
afflicted  mind,  and  also  those  great  comforts,  your  inexhaustible 
goodness,  learning,  and  piety  plenteously  affords  to  the  droop- 
ing spirits  of  poor  sinners ;  so  that  I  may  truly  say,  holy  man, 
to  you  I  owe  what  consolation  I  enjoy,  in  urging  God^s  mercyes 
against  despair ;  and  holding  me  up  under  the  weight  of  those 
high  and  mountainous  sins  my  wicked  and  ungovernable  life  hath 
heaped  upon  me. 

"  If  God  shall  be  pleased  to  spare  me  a  little  longer  here,  I 
have  unalterably  resolved  to  become  a  new  man,  so  as  to  wash 
out  the  stains  of  my  lewd  courses  with  my  tears,  and  weep  over 
the  profane  and  unhallowed  abominations  of  my  former  doings ; 
that  the  world  may  see  how  I  loth  sin  and  abhor  the  very  re- 
membrance of  those  tainted  and  unclean  joys,  I  once  delighted 
in  ;  these  being,  as  the  apostle  tells  us,  the  things  whereof  I  am 
now  ashamed.  Or,  if  it  be  his  great  pleasure  now  to  put  a  period 
to  my  days,  that  he  will  accept  of  my  last  gasp ;  that  the  smoak 
of  my  death-bed  offering  may  not  be  unsavoury  to  his  nostrils, 
and  drive  me,  like  Cain,  from  before  his  presence.  Pray  for  me, 
dear  doctor ;  and  all  you  that  forget  not  God,  pray  for  me  fer- 
vently. Take  heaven  by  force,  and  lett  me  enter  in  with  you,  as 
it  were  in  disguise ;  for  I  dare  not  appear  before  the  dread  Ma- 
jesty of  that  Holy  One  I  have  so  often  offended. 

"  Warn  all  my  friends  and  companions  to  a  true  and  sincere 
repentance,  to-day,  while  it  is  called  to-day :  before  the  evil  day 
come,  and  they  be  no  more.  Let  them  know  that  sin  is  like  the 
angeles  book  in  the  Kevelations;  it  is  sweet  to  the  mouth,  and 
bitter  in  the  belly.  Lett  them  know  that  God  will  not  be  mockrd  : 
that  he  is  an  holy  God,  and  will  be  served  in  holiness  and  purity  ; 
that  he  requires  the  whole  man,  and  the  early  man.  Bid  them 
make  haste,  for  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work.  Oh  ! 
that  they  were  wise,  that  they  would  consider  this,  and  not  with 
me,  with  wretched  me,  delay  it  untill  their  latter  end.  I'r.iy. 
dear  sir,  continually  pray  for  your  poor  friend, 

"ROCHESTI   !-. 

"  Ranger's  Lodge  in  Woodstock  Park, 
July,  1680." 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 


Had  not  the  danger  of  losing  the  established  religion  and  laws  animated 
some  of  the  last  age  with  a  zeal  which  despised  all  other  dangers  ;  instead  of 
living  under  a  well-constituted  government,  mild  and  regular  beyond  the 
example  of  any  age  or  kingdom,  we  should  either  have  been  subject  to  an 
arbitrary  and  illegal  dominion  at  home,  or,  which  is  more  probable,  have  long 
ago  submitted,  with  all  the  nations  round  us,  to  those  powerful  enemies,  who 
for  a  century  past  have  been  attempting  to  enslave  the  world. — And  what 
other  human  blessings  can  be  compared  with  that,  which  is  the  security  and 
preservation  of  them  all,  the  liberty  of  laws  ?  What  other  except  that,  which 
secures  to  us,  more  than  human  blessings,  the  liberty  of  religion  ?  AVhat 
praise,  and  esteem,  and  veneration,  are  due  to  those,  who  obtained  them  for  us  ! 

DOCTOR  W.  S.  POWELL 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  following  narrative  is  abridged  from  The  Life  of  the  Most 
Reverend  Father  in  God,  John  Tillotson,  archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
compiled  from  the  Minutes  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Young,  late  dean  of 

Salisbury,  by  F.  H ,  M.A.  London,  1717.  8vo.— The  editor 

regrets  that  the  memoir  is  not  more  worthy  of  the  excellent  man 
whom  it  describes. 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 


JOHN  TILLOTSON  was  the  son  of  Robert  Tillotson,  of  Sowerby, 
in  the  county  of  York,  a  clothier,  by  Mary  the  daughter  of  Tho- 
mas Dobson,  of  Sowerby,  gentleman,  in  the  parish  of  Halifax : 
he  was  there  born  either  the  latter  end  of  September,  or  the 
beginning  of  October,  in  the  year  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
thirty. 

His  first  education  and  impressions  were  among  those  who 
were  then  called  Puritans,  but  of  the  best  sort :  yet  even  before 
his  mind  was  opened  to  clearer  thoughts,  he  felt  somewhat  within 
him,  that  disposed  him  to  larger  notions,  and  a  better  temper. 
The  books  which  were  put  into  the  hands  of  the  youth  of  that 
time,  were  generally  heavy;  he  could  scarce  bear  them,  even 
before  he  knew  better  things.  He  happily  fell  on  Chillingworth's 
book,  which  gave  his  mind  the  ply  that  it  held  ever  after,  and  put 
him  on  a  true  scent.  He  was  soon  freed  from  his  first  prejudices, 
or  rather,  he  was  never  mastered  by  them :  yet  he  still  stuck  to 
the  strictness  of  life  to  which  he  was  bred,  and  retained  a  just 
value  and  a  due  tenderness  for  the  men  of  that  persuasion ;  and 
by  the  strength  of  his  reason,  together  with  the  clearness  of  his 
principles,  he  brought  over  more  serious  men  from  their  scruples 
to  the  communion  of  the  church,  and  fixed  more  in  it,  than  any 
man  I  ever  knew  a. 

After  he  had  with  a  quick  proficiency  gone  through  the 
grammar-schools,  and  arrived  to  an  uncommon  knowledge  in  the 
learned  languages,  he  was  on  April  23, 1647,  admitted  pensioner 
of  Clare-hall,  in  Cambridge,  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  David 
Clarkson.  He  commenced  bachelor  of  arts  at  Midsummer, 

[a  See  his  Funeral  Sermon.] 


682  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

1650,  and  was  elected  fellow  before  Christmas  that  year.  In 
1654  he  took  the  degree  of  master  of  arts,  and  in  1666  went  out 
doctor  in  divinity. 

In  the  years  1661  and  2  he  was  curate  to  Dr.  Hacket,  vicar 
of  Cheshunt,  in  Hertfordshire,  as  abundance  of  the  parishioners 
living  there  did  well  remember ;  particularly  Mr.  Mott  the  parish- 
clerk  and  school-master,  who  gave  the  following  account  of  him, 
viz.  "  That  sir  Thomas  Dacres  gave  him  his  board,  who  then 
lived  at  the  great  house  near  the  church ;  that  he  behaved  him- 
self there  exceeding  well,  and  did  a  great  many  good  things ; 
among  the  rest,  by  his  mild  and  gentle  behaviour,  and  persua- 
sive eloquence,  he  prevailed  with  an  old  Oliverian  soldier,  who  set 
up  for  an  Anabaptist  preacher  there,  and  preached  in  a  red  coat, 
and  was  much  followed  in  that  place,  to  desist  from  that  en- 
croachment upon  the  parish  minister,  and  the  usurpation  of  the 
priest's  office,  and  to  betake  himself  to  some  honest  employ- 
ment. Some  years  after  he  and  Dr.  Stillingfleet  hired  the 
great  house  before-mentioned,  and  lived  there  together  in  summer- 
time." 

It  has  been  confidently  reported,  that  he  never  had  a  cure  of 
souls ;  but  in  Batteley's  edition  of  Somner's  Antiquities  of  Can- 
terbury, part  3,  p.  124,  it  appears  that  he  was  presented  by  sir 
Thomas  Barnadiston  to  the  rectory  of  Ketton,  alias  Keddington, 
in  the  county  of  Suffolk ;  his  mandate  of  induction  is  there  set 
down  verbatim,  as  it  is  entered  in  the  register  of  the  archdeacon 
of  Sudbury.  He  did  not  continue  there  a  full  year,  but  removed 
again  to  London,  and  procured  Keddington  to  be  bestowed  upon 
his  curate  :  "  a  benefice  "  (says  the  bishop  of  Sarum  in  his  funeral 
sermon)  "  being  offered  him  in  the  country,  he  once  intended  to 
have  left  this  great  scene,  and  gone  to  that  retirement,  where  he 
spent  almost  a  year ;  but  he  was  happily  recalled  by  that  honour- 
able society "  ( Lincoln Vinn)  "for  whom  he  always  retained  just 
impressions  of  gratitude.  And  though  in  the  intervals  of  terms 
he  could  have  given  a  large  part  of  the  year  to  his  parish,  yet  so 
strict  he  was  to  the  pastoral  care  in  the  point  of  residence,  that 
he  parted  with  it  even  when  his  incomes  here  could  scarce  sup- 
port him." 

In  the  year  1664  he  was  chosen  preacher  to  Lincoln  Vinn. 
where  he  continued  some  years,  and  was  wonderfully  admiml 
and  loved  by  that  honourable  and  learned  society,  for  his  eloquent 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  683 

The  same  year  he  was  chosen  Tuesday-lecturer  of  St.  Law- 
rence's church,  in  London.  Here  it  was  that  he  preached  those 
incomparable  sermons,  concerning  the  divinity  and  incarnation  of 
our  blessed  Saviour,  in  vindication  of  himself  from  the  calumny 
of  Socinianism,  with  which  his  enemies  charged  him.  "  When 
the  party"  (says  the  late  learned  bishop  of  Sarumb)  "had  given 
credit  to  a  most  impudent  calumny  that  was  raised  by  the  papists 
against  the  late  primate,  of  his  being  a  Socinian,  his  book  against 
those  errors  had  for  some  time  made  even  the  party  itself  ashamed 
to  support  that  any  longer ;  at  last  an  ignorant  and  malicious 
writer c  was  found  out  to  maintain  that  charge  still,  which  had 
made  too  great  a  noise  to  be  easily  parted  with.  But  I  am 
heartily  glad  to  see  justice  done  to  the  name  of  so  great  a  man, 
by  one  d  who  has  answered  that  libel  in  so  full  and  so  convincing 
a  manner.  He  has  concealed  no  part  of  their  objections ;  and 
by  setting  down  all  those  parts  of  the  archbishop's  sermons, 
upon  which  these  men  have  studied  to  fix  their  malice,  not  only 
in  some  short  periods,  which  malicious  men  have  made  a  noise 
with,  but  in  all  that  went  before  and  after,  he  gives  so  fair  as  well 
as  true  a  representation  of  that  great  prelate's  sense,  that  I  am 
confident  no  ill  impressions  will  stick  with  any  who  will  be  so  just 
as  to  consider  the  whole  matter,  the  vindication  as  well  as  the 
calumnies,  with  sincere  and  equitable  minds." 

The  author  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Thomas  Firmin,  who  was  a 
grand  Socinian  himself,  has  so  fully  cleared  the  archbishop  from 
that  imputation,  and  proved  that  he  lived  and  died  of  a  contrary 
opinion,  that  I  hope  it  will  not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader  to 
insert  the  place  at  large.  "  Now  also  he  (Mr.  Firmin)  grew  into 
intimacy  with  Dr.  Whichcot,  Dr.  Worthington,  Dr.  Wilkins, 
Mr.  Tillotson.  Dr.  Wilkins  was  afterwards  bishop  of  Chester, 
Mr.  Tillotson  (for  he  was  not  yet  made  doctor)  archbishop  of 
Canterbury :  but  in  their  dignity,  and  to  the  very  last,  Mr.  Fir- 
min had  the  same  place  and  degree  in  their  esteem  and  friend- 
ship, that  at  any  time  formerly  he  had.  While  Dr.  Tillotson 
preached  the  Tuesday's  lecture  at  St.  Lawrence's  so  much  fre- 

[b  Reflections  upon  a  pamphlet,  entitled,  "Some  Discourses  upon  Dr. 
Burnet  and  Dr.  Tillotson,"  &c.] 

[c  A  book,  entitled,  "  Considerations  on  the  Explications  of  the  Doctrine 
of  the  Trinity."] 

["  Dr.  Williams's  "  Vindication  of  the  Sermons  of  his  grace  John,  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,"  &c.] 


684  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

quented  by  all  the  divines  of  the  town,  and  by  a  great  many  per- 
sons of  quality  and  distinction ;  when  the  doctor  was  obliged  to 
be  at  Canterbury,  where  he  was  dean,  or  was  out  of  town,  either 
for  diversion  or  health,  he  generally  left  it  to  Mr.  Firmin  to  pro- 
vide preachers  for  his  lecture,  and  Mr.  Firmin  never  failed  to 
supply  his  place  with  some  very  eminent  preacher ;  so  that  there 
never  was  any  complaint  on  the  account  of  Dr.  Tillotson's  ab- 
sence. And  this  Mr.  Firmin  could  easily  do ;  for  now  there  was 
hardly  a  divine  of  note  (whether  in  London,  or  in  the  country, 
that  frequented  London)  but  Mr.  Firmin  was  come  acquainted 
with  him.  Which  thing  helped  him  much  to  serve  the  interests 
of  many  hopeful  young  preachers  and  scholars,  candidates  for 
lectures,  schools,  cures,  or  rectories ;  for  whom  he  would  solicit 
with  as  much  affection  and  diligence,  as  other  men  do  for  their 
sons,  or  near  relations.  Her  late  majesty  (queen  Mary)  of  most 
happy  memory,  having  heard  much  of  Mr.  Firming  usefulness  in 
all  public  designs,  especially  those  of  charity ;  and  that  he  was 
heterodox  in  the  articles  of  the  Trinity,  the  divinity  of  our 
Saviour,  and  the  satisfaction ;  she  spoke  to  archbishop  Tillot- 
son,  and  earnestly  recommended  it  to  him  to  set  Mr.  Firmin 
right  in  those  weighty  and  necessary  points.  The  archbishop 
answered,  that  he  had  often  endeavoured  it ;  but  Mr.  Firmin 
having  so  early  and  long  imbibed  the  Socinian  doctrine,  was  not 
now  capable  of  a  contrary  impression.  However  his  grace  pub- 
lished his  sermons  (formerly  preached  at  St.  Lawrence's)  concern- 
ing those  questions,  and  sent  Mr.  Firmin  one  of  the  first  copies 
from  the  press.  Mr.  Firmin,  not  convinced  by  his  graced  rea- 
sonings, or  his  arguments  from  holy  Scripture,  caused  a  respectful 
answer  (although  some  have  stretched  one  expression  too  far) 
entitled,  Considerations  on  the  explications  and  defences  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity,  to  be  drawn  up  and  published,  himself  giving 
his  grace  a  copy  of  it.  I  must  not  omit  to  do  the  archbishop 
right  against  those  who  pretend,  that  the  archbishop,  notwith- 
standing those  sermons,  was  in  his  heart  an  Unitarian.  For  Mr. 
Firmin  himself  told  me,  shortly  after  the  archbishop  had  pub- 
lished those  sermons,  that  going  to  Lambeth,  and  the  archbishop 
happening  to  dine  in  private,  he  sent  for  Mr.  Firmin  to  him,  and 
said  to  this  effect,  that  the  calumnies  of  the  people  had  obliged  him 
to  publish  his  sermons,  some  time  since  preached  at  St.  Lawm , 
against  the  tenets  of  Socinus :  that  he  had  sincerely  prcaclu •• 
he  then  thought,  and  continued  still  to  think  of  those  p<>i 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  685 

that  however  no  body's  false  imputations  should  provoke  him  to 
give  ill  language  to  persons  who  dissented  conscientiously,  and 
for  weighty  reasons ;  that  he  knew  well  this  was  the  case  *of  the 
Socinians,  for  whose  learning  and  dexterity  he  should  always 
have  a  respect,  as  well  as  for  their  sincerity  and  exemplariness. 
Afterwards,  when  Mr.  Firmin  gave  him  a  copy  of  the  Considera- 
tions, after  he  had  read  it,  he  only  said,  my  lord  of  Sarum  shall 
humble  their  writers.  Nor  did  he  afterwards  at  any  time  express 
the  least  coldness  on  the  account  of  the  answer  made  to  him, 
but  used  Mr.  Firmin  as  formerly,  enquiring  as  his  custom  was, 
how  does  my  son  Giles?  so  he  called  Mr.  Firmin's  son  by  his 
second  wife." 

In  his  funeral  sermon  we  have  the  following  account  of  his 
preaching  this  lecture.  "  I  need  not  tell  you,"  says  the  eloquent 
preacher,  "  how  many  years,  and  with  what  labour  and  success 
he  divided  himself  between  that  society  "  (Lincoln's  Inn)  "  and 
this  place.  I  am  confident  you  have  profited  so  much  by  it,  that 
you  will  remember  it  long  ;  and  that  you  do  reckon  it  as  a  great 
item  of  the  account  you  must  all  one  day  give,  that  you  were  so 
long  blessed  with  his  ministry.  The  numerous  assembly  that  this 
lecture  brought  together,  even  from  the  remotest  parts  of  this 
wide  city ;  the  great  concourse  of  clergymen,  who  came  hither  to 
form  their  minds ;  the  happy  union  that  thereby  the  clergy  of  this 
great  body  grew  into,  and  the  blessed  effects  this  had,  are  things 
which  it  is  to  be  hoped  an  age  will  not  wear  out  of  men's  minds. 
Some  great  charity,  some  public  service,  or  good  design,  was  the 
work  of  most  of  those  days.  Every  One  saw  him  considered  as 
the  head  of  this  learned  and  eminent  body ;  and  he  was  the  only 
person  that  made  no  reflections  on  it  himself.  He  was  still  so 
affable  and  humble,  so  modest,  and  so  ready  to  serve  the  youngest 
and  meanest  in  it,  that  such  as  saw  all  that,  must  needs  feel  the 
impressions  of  it  go  deep,  and  stick  long  with  him." 

In  1669,  he  was  made  canon  of  Christ  Church,  in  Canterbury, 
and  prebend  of  St.  Paul's  in  1675  :  he  was  also  preferred  to  the 
deanery  of  Canterbury  in  1672  ;  and  in  1689,  he  was  made  clerk 
of  the  closet  to  king  William  the  third ;  and  upon  the  promotion 
of  Dr.  Stillingfleet  from  the  deanery  of  St.  Paul's  to  the  bishop- 
rick  of  Worcester,  he  succeeded  him  in  the  same  year. 

In  1 674,  king  Charles  the  second,  who  had  an  apprehension 
and  judgment  (when  he  applied  to  business)  equal  to  the  greatest 
of  his  predecessors,  did  clearly  perceive  it  to  be  the  sense  of  his 


686  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

council,  and  the  voice  of  his  people,  that  he  should  support  the 
established  church,  with  a  strict  hand  upon  the  papists,  and  with 
a  moderate  restraint  of  the  dissenters,  chiefly  because  their  divi- 
sion gave  advantage  to  the  other  enemy.  On  this  principle  of 
wisdom,  his  majesty  commanded  his  own  inclination,  and  during 
the  long  recess  of  parliament,  to  quiet  the  minds  of  his  people, 
he  published  this  declaration  for  enforcing  a  late  order  made  in 
council. 

The  King's  Declaration. 

CHARLES  B. 

The  administration  of  justice,  according  to  the  settled  and 
known  laws  of  our  kingdom,  we  take  to  be  the  most  reasonable 
and  proper  method  for  attaining  and  preserving  the  peace  and 
safety  both  of  church  and  state.  As  therefore  we  find  it  neces- 
sary that  the  laws  should  be  put  in  execution  with  more  care  and 
diligence  than  of  late  they  have  been,  so  also  we  think  it  expe- 
dient, that  the  orders  we  have  already  given  for  that  purpose, 
should  be  made  public  in  such  a  manner  that  all  men  may  find 
themselves  obliged  to  take  notice  of  the  same,  and  to  give  a  due 
obedience  thereunto.  For  which  reason  we  have  thought  fit  to 
declare,  and  do  hereby  publish  and  declare  our  royal  will  and 
pleasure,  that  our  order  made  in  council  on  Wednesday,  the 
third  day  of  this  instant,  February,  and  since  printed  and  pub- 
lished, be  exactly  observed  by  all  and  every  person  and  persons  to 
whom  it  shall  or  may  appertain :  and  more  particularly  we  require 
and  command,  that  the  convictions  of  popish  recusants  be  every 
where  encouraged,  quickened,  and  made  effectual :  and  that  all 
convictions,  as  soon  as  they  shall  be  perfected,  be  forthwith  cer- 
tified into  the  Exchequer,  and  that  speedy  process  do  issue  upon 
all  such  convictions  as  are  or  shall  be  certified :  and  that  care  be 
taken,  that  no  persons  of  quality,  who  shall  be  suspected  t<>  In- 
popish  recusants,  be  omitted  to  be  presented :  and  that  no  delay 
be  used,  nor  any  practice  suffered,  which  may  hinder  or  obstruct 
the  completing  of  such  convictions  as  are  now  preparing.  And 
we  do  strictly  charge  and  command,  that  no  mass  be  said  in  any 
part  of  this  kingdom,  the  chapels  of  our  dearest  consort  the 
queen,  and  the  chapels  of  foreign  ministers,  only  excepted.  And 
to  prevent  all  extraordinary  resort  to  those  chapels,  by  such  wln> 
are  not  menial  servants  to  the  queen,  or  to  foreign  minister- 
declare,  that  every  such  offender  shall  incur  the  forfeiture  of  one 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  687 

hundred  marks,  provided  by  the  statute  made  in  the  twenty-third 
year  of  queen  Elizabeth,  whereof  one-third  part  shall  be  given  to 
the  informer  for  his  farther  reward  and  encouragement.  And  we 
require  all  officers  and  ministers  of  justice  to  cause  diligent  search 
to  be  made  in  all  other  places  where  they  shall  hear  or  suspect 
that  mass  is  said,  and  to  cause  all  offenders  in  this  kind  to  be 
apprehended  and  proceeded  with  according  to  law.  And  we  fore- 
warn all  our  subjects,  that  they  presume  not  to  send  any  person 
to  be  educated  abroad  in  any  popish  college  or  seminary ;  and  we 
command  all  parents  or  guardians  of  any  person  or  persons,  now 
remaining  in  any  such  college  or  seminary,  that  they  cause  the 
said  person  or  persons  speedily  to  return  home,  as  they  will 
answer  the  contrary  afc  their  peril.  Moreover,  we  require  all 
persons  born  in  any  of  our  dominions,  and  out  of  prison,  who 
have  taken  orders  by  any  authority  derived  from  the  church  or 
see  of  Rome  (except  Mr.  John  Huddleston l)  to  depart  the  king- 
dom before  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  March  next,  according  to  the 
tenor  of  our  late  proclamation;  and  also  to  depart  the  court 
within  the  fourteen  days  appointed  by  our  late  order  in  council. 
And  we  forbid  all  papists,  or  reputed  papists,  to  come  into  our 
palaces  at  Whitehall  or  St.  James's,  or  into  any  other  place 
where  our  court  shall  be,  contrary  to  our  late  prohibition,  upon 
pain  of  imprisonment  in  the  Tower,  if  he  be  a  peer  of  the  realm ; 
or  in  some  other  prison  if  he  be  of  lesser  quality.  And  lastly, 
we  appoint,  that  care  be  taken  for  the  suppression  of  conventicles, 
hereby  declaring  that  all  our  licences  were  long  since  recalled, 
and  that  no  conventicle  hath  any  authority,  allowance,  or  encou- 
ragement from  us.  And  our  pleasure  is,  that  these  our  com- 
mands be  published  and  proclaimed  in  the  usual  manner. 

Given  at  our  court  at  Whitehall  this  12th  day  of 
February,  in  the  27th  year  of  our  reign.  [1675.] 

This  declaration  referred  to  an  order  in  council  made  on  the 
third  day  of  February,  wherein  the  king,  upon  advising  with 
several  of  his  bishops,  agreed  upon  six  orders  and  resolutions  then 
taken  for  the  more  effectual  conviction  of  popish  recusants,  and 
the  suppression  of  conventicles :  of  which  the  last  was  this : 
"  And  his  majesty  doth  farther  order  and  appoint,  that  effectual 

[!  Huddleston.']  A  Benedictine  monk,  who  had  been  instrumental  to  the 
preservation  of  the  king,  after  his  defeat  at  Worcester.] 


688  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

care  be  taken  for  the  suppression  of  conventicles :  and  whereas 
divers  pretend  licences  from  his  majesty,  and  would  support  them- 
selves by  that  pretence,  his  majesty  declares,  that  all  his  licences 
were  long  since  recalled  ;  and  that  no  conventicle  hath  any  autho- 
rity, allowance,  or  encouragement  from  his  majesty." — The  non- 
conformists on  this  occasion  thus  partially  expressed  themselves. 
His  majesty  called  the  bishops  up  to  London,  to  give  him  advice 
what  was  to  be  done  for  the  securing  of  religion,  &c.  and  they, 
after  divers  consultations  with  the  ministers  of  state,  advised  him 
to  recall  his  licences,  and  put  the  laws  against  the  nonconformists 
in  execution ;  and  this  was  done  by  a  declaration  and  proclama- 
tion, declaring  the  licences  long  since  void,  and  requiring  the 
execution  of  the  laws  against  papists  and  conventicles.  No  sooner 
was  the  proclamation  published,  but  special  informers  were  set  on 
work  to  promote  the  execution.  A  little  before  the  licences  were 
recalled,  Mr.  Baxter  openly  declared  in  his  pulpit,  "  that  it  was 
not  in  opposition  to  the  public  churches  that  he  kept  up  a  meet- 
ing, but  to  help  the  people  in  their  necessity,  who  were  many  more 
than  the  parish  church  could  hold."  Hereupon  it  was  confidently 
reported  that  he  was  conforming .  Another  session  of  par- 
liament approaching,  bishop  Morley  and  bishop  Ward  were  in 
appearance  very  sensible  of  popery,  and  therefore  very  forward  for 
abatements,  and  taking  in  the  nonconformists,  and  moved  it  to 
many.  At  length  Dr.  Tillotson  and  Dr.  Stillingfleet  desired  a 
meeting  with  Dr.  Manton,  Dr.  Bates,  Mr.  Pool,  and  Mr.  Baxtn-. 
in  order  to  consider  of  an  accommodation 2,  and  said  they  had  the 
encouragement  of  several  lords,  both  spiritual  and  temporal. 
Mr.  Baxter  at  first  met  the  two  doctors  alone,  and  they  considered 
and  canvassed  various  draughts,  and  at  length  fixed  on  one  in 
which  they  agreed.  This  being  communicated  to  the  noncon- 
formists, was  agreeable ;  but  when  they  communicated  it  to  the 
bishops,  there  was  an  end  of  the  treaty.  A  great  many  things 
could  not  be  obtained,  upon  which  Mr.  Baxter  sent  to  Dr.  Tillot- 
son, to  know  whether  he  might  have  leave  to  speak  of  it,  in  ordrr 
to  the  promoting  concord,  and  to  signify  how  far  they  were  a<jn 
that  their  names  might  be  some  advantage  to  the  work,  and  lie- 
thereupon  returned  him  the  following  letter,  dated  April  11, 
1675. 

*  An  accommodation.]  For  an  account  of  an  earlier  attempt  of  the  same 
kind,  in  the  years  1667-8,  see  Life  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  p.  553  of  this 
volume. 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  689 

Sir, 

I  took  the  first  opportunity  after  you  were  with  us,  to  speak  to 
the  bishop  of  Salisbury,  who  promised  to  keep  the  matter  private, 
and  only  to  acquaint  the  bishop  of  Chichester  with  it  in  order  to 
a  meeting;  but  upon  some  general  discourse  I  plainly  perceived 
several  things  could  not  be  obtained.  However,  he  promised  to 
appoint  a  time  of  meeting,  but  I  have  not  heard  from  him  since. 
I  am  unwilling  my  name  should  be  used  in  this  matter,  not  but 
that  I  do  most  heartily  desire  an  accommodation,  and  shall  always 
endeavour  it ;  but  I  am  sure  it  will  be  a  prejudice  to  me,  and 
signify  nothing  to  the  effecting  of  the  thing,  which,  as  circum- 
stances are,  cannot  pass  in  either  house  without  the  concurrence 
of  a  considerable  part  of  the  bishops,  and  the  countenance  of  his 
majesty,  which  at  present  I  see  little  reason  to  expect. 

I  am, 
Your  affectionate  brother  and  servant, 

J.  TILLOTSON. 

The  terms  agreed  on  were  much  of  the  same  nature  with  those 
delivered  the  year  before  by  Mr.  Baxter  to  the  earl  of  Orrery ;  the 
chief  of  which  were  these, 

"  That  no  covenant,  promise,  or  oath,  should  be  required  to 
ordination,  institution,  or  induction,  but  the  oaths  of  allegiance 
and  supremacy.  The  subscribing  to  the  doctrine  and  sacraments 
of  the  church  of  England,  as  expressed  in  the  thirty-nine  articles, 
and  a  general  declaration  against  rebellion  and  sedition.  That 
till  the  nonconformists  could  be  better  provided  for  by  vacancies, 
they  should  have  liberty  to  be  school-masters,  or  assistants  to  in- 
cumbents, or  to  preach  lectures  in  their  churches ;  either  such 
lectures  as  were  already  endowed  with  maintenance,  or  such  as 
the  people  should  be  willing  to  maintain ;  and  that  in  the  mean 
time  their  meeting-places  that  were  convenient  should  be  conti- 
nued in  use  as  chapels.  That  liberty  be  allowed  for  neighbours 
joining  together  in  praying  to  God  and  praising  him,  and  repeating 
sermons,  in  their  private  houses  without  molestation.  That  for 
the  Liturgy,  &c.  none  be  obliged  to  read  the  apocryphal  lessons : 
that  it  be  enough  if  an  incumbent  once  in  a  quarter  or  half  year, 
read  the  greatest  part  of  the  service  for  that  time ;  and  that  it  be 
at  other  times  done  by  his  curate  or  assistant.  That  lecturers  be 
not  obliged  to  read  the  service ;  or  at  most,  that  it  be  enough,  if 

VOL,  iv.  Y  y 


690  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

once  in  half  a  year  they  read  the  greatest  part  of  what  is  appointed 
for  that  time.  That  parents  have  liberty  to  dedicate  their  own 
children  to  God  in  baptism,  without  being  obliged  to  find  god* 
fathers  and  godmothers.  That  the  use  of  the  sign  of  the  cross 
be  left  to  the  minister's  inclination  and  discretion.  That  ministers 
be  not  forced  to  baptize  a  child,  whose  parents  are  denied  the  com- 
munion of  the  church,  unless  some  serious  Christian  undertake 
for  its  education,  according  to  the  Christian  covenant.  That 
none  be  forced  to  receive  the  sacrament  while  unfit  or  averse. 
That  ministers  be  not  forced  to  deliver  the  sacrament  to  any 
unbaptized  persons ;  or  to  such  as  will  not  own  their  baptismal 
covenant,  and  publicly  profess  their  adherence  to  it ;  or  to  such 
as  are  guilty  of  scandalous  immoralities,  till  they  have  professed 
repentance.  That  ministers  be  not  forced  to  publish  an  excom- 
munication, or  absolution,  against  their  consciences,  upon  the 
decree  of  a  lay-chancellor,  &c.  or  harassed  by  attending  their 
courts,  to  bring  witnesses  against  those  to  whom  they  have  re- 
fused the  sacrament  upon  the  aforesaid  reasons.  That  it  be  left 
to  the  discretion  of  ministers,  whom  they  will  absolve  in  sickness, 
and  to  whom  they  will  give  the  sacrament,  and  over  whom  they 
at  their  interment  will  use  those  few  words  which  import  the 
justification  and  salvation  of  the  deceased :  and  that  the  sick  and 
dying  have  the  liberty  of  choosing  what  ministers  they  will  to 
attend  and  assist  them  without  restraint.  That  no  ministers  be 
forced  to  deny  the  sacrament  to  such  as  think  it  unlawful  to  take 
it  kneeling.  That  the  use  of  the  surplice  be  left  indifferent.  A  ml 
that  people  who  live  under  an  ignorant  or  scandalous  minister, 
have  liberty  to  join  with  those  with  whom  they  can  better  profit. 
in  any  neighbouring  church  in  the  same  diocese,  paying  the  in- 
cumbent his  dues.  That  no  ordained  ministers  be  put  upon 
renouncing  their  ordination,  but  upon  proof  of  their  fitness  for  the 
ministry,  receive  by  word,  or  a  written  instrument,  a  legal  autho- 
rity to  exercise  their  ministry  in  any  congregation  in  his  maj( 
dominions,  where  they  shall  be  lawfully  called.  That  no  excom- 
municate person,  as  such,  be  imprisoned  or  ruined.  And  tliat. 
after  all,  Christian  lenity  be  used  to  all  conscientious  dissent 
and  that  the  tolerable  be  tolerated,  under  laws  of  peace  and  sal 
Upon  the  whole  he  added,  that  if  the  sacraments  were  but  1<  It 
free  to  be  administered,  and  received  by  none  but  volunteers  ;  and 
liberty  granted  to  ministers  to  preach  in  those  churches  \\h.  i« 
the  Common  Prayer  was  read  by  others:  and  the  subsoij  ' 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

contained  nothing  that  a  conscientious  man  might  need  to  scruple  : 
he  thought  it  might  take  in  all,  even  the  independents  as  well  as 
presbyter  ians." 

Mr.  Baxter  gave  the  earl  of  Orrery  these  proposals ;  but  he, 
after  some  time,  returned  them  with  bishop  Morle/s  strictures 
and  animadversions  upon  them,  and  they  came  to  nothing. 

In  the  year  1 680,  the  house  of  commons  finding  no  other  way 
to  keep  popery  out  of  the  nation,  than  by  excluding  the  duke  of 
York  from  the  succession  to  the  crown,  they  brought  in  a  bill  to 
disable  him.  On  November  the  llth,  it  passed  the  commons ;  on 
the  15th,  it  was  carried  up  to  the  lords  by  the  lord  Russel,  and 
there  at  the  second  reading  it  was  thrown  out  by  a  majority  of 
thirty  voices,  of  which  eight  were  bishops.  Upon  this  the  clergy 
in  and  about  the  city  of  London  presented  an  address  of  thanks 
to  the  king  for  not  agreeing  to  the  bill  of  exclusion,  which  Dr. 
Tillotson  refused  to  sign. 

In  the  year  1681  died  the  reverend  and  pious  Mr.  Gouge,  of 
whom  Dr.  Tillotson  in  his  funeral  sermon  gives  this  excellent 
character,  viz.  "  that  he  was  of  a  disposition  ready  to  embrace 
and  oblige  all  men ;  allowing  others  to  differ  from  him,  even  in 
opinions  that  were  very  dear  to  him  ;  and  provided  men  did  but 
fear  God,  and  work  righteousness,  he  loved  them  heartily,  how 
distant  soever  from  him  in  judgment  about  things  less  necessary : 
in  all  which  he  is  very  worthy  to  be  a  pattern  for  men  of  all  per- 
suasions whatsoever."  Mr.  Gouge  was  a  person  of  uncommon 
piety  and  charity,  and  an  indefatigable  diligence  in  doing  good. 
That  which  gives  occasion  to  mention  him  here,  is,  that  he  pro- 
cured the  Church  Catechism,  the  Practice  of  Piety,  and  that  best  of 
books,  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  besides  several  other  pious  and 
useful  treatises,  to  be  translated  into  the  Welch  tongue,  and  great 
numbers  of  them  to  be  printed,  and  sent  down  to  the  chief  towns 
in  Wales,  to  be  sold  at  easy  rates  to  those  that  were  able  to  buy 
them,  and  to  be  freely  given  to  those  that  were  not.  But  that 
which  was  the  greatest  work  of  all,  and  amounted  indeed  to  a 
mighty  charge,  he  procured  a  new  and  very  fair  impression  of  the 
Bible  and  Liturgy  of  the  church  of  England  in  the  Welch  tongue 
(the  former  impression  being  dispersed,  and  hardly  twenty  of  them 
to  be  had  in  all  London)  to  the  number  of  eight  thousand:  one 
thousand  whereof  were  freely  given  to  the  poor,  and  the  rest  sent 
to  the  principal  cities  and  towns  in  Wales,  to  be  sold  to  the  rich 
at  very  reasonable  and  low  rates,  viz.  at  four  shillings  a  piece,  well 

Y  y  2 


692  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

bound  and  clasped ;  which  was  much  cheaper  than  any  English 
Bible  was  ever  sold  that  was  of  so  fair  a  print  and  paper.  To- 
wards the  carrying  on  this  charitable  work,  large  and  bountiful 
contributions  (chiefly  by  his  industry  and  prudent  application) 
were  obtained  from  charitable  persons  of  all  ranks  and  conditions, 
from  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Wales  and  the  neighbouring 
countries,  and  several  of  that  quality  in  and  about  London :  from 
divers  of  the  right  reverend  bishops,  and  of  the  clergy ;  amongst 
the  rest,  Dr.  Tillotson  (then  dean  of  St.  PauPs)  was  a  great 
promoter  of  this  good  and  charitable  undertaking,  and  contributed 
towards  it  fifty  pounds.  And  indeed  it  was  a  work  of  that  charge, 
that  it  was  not  likely  to  have  been  done  any  other  way ;  and  for 
which  this  age,  and  perhaps  the  next,  will  have  great  cause  to 
thank  God  on  his  behalf. 

In  the  year  1682,  he  laid  a  farther  obligation  upon  the  public, 
by  giving  them  a  volume  of  excellent  sermons,  consisting  of  fifteen 
in  number,  from  bishop  Wilkins's  papers,  to  which  he  prefixed 
the  following  preface : 

"  I  easily  foresee,  that  in  this  censorious  and  inquisitive  age, 
two  questions  will  be  asked  concerning  the  publishing  of  these 
sermons,  why  no  sooner  ?  or  why  at  all  ?  since  so  many  come 
abroad  every  day,  that  the  age  is  almost  oppressed  with  them. 
To  the  first  I  answer,  because  I  was  not  at  leisure  before  to 
review  them,  and  to  get  them  transcribed  out  of  a  hand  not  legible 
enough  for  the  press.  To  the  other,  because  though  there  be  many 
sermons,  yet  not  many  such ;  whether  we  consider  in  them  the 
usefulness  and  weight  of  the  matters  treated  of;  or  the  suitable 
manner  of  handling  them,  in  a  stile  of  so  much  clearness,  and 
closeness,  and  strength,  as  was  fitted  (as  he  himself  was  wont  to 
wish)  to  the  capacity  of  the  weakest,  and  the  conviction  of  tin- 
strongest ;  or  the  solid  and  well  poized  judgment  of  the  author 
in  points  of  difficulty;  or  lastly,  the  admirable  candour  and 
moderation  of  his  temper  in  matters  of  difference  and  dispute. 

"And  I  purposely  mention  his  moderation,  and  likewise  advni- 
ture  to  commend  him  for  it ;  notwithstanding  that  this  virtue,  so 
much  esteemed  and  magnified  by  wise  men  in  all  ages,  hath  of 
late  been  declaimed  against  with  so  much  zeal  and  fierceness,  and 
yet  with  that  good  grace  and  confidence,  as  if  it  were  not  only  no 
virtue,  but  even  the  sum  and  abridgment  of  all  vices.  I  say,  not- 
withstanding all  this,  I  am  still  of  the  old  opinion,  that  modera- 
tion is  a  virtue,  and  one  of  the  peculiar  ornaments  and  n<lvnm, 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

of  the  excellent  constitution  of  our  church,  and  must  at  last  be 
the  temper  of  her  members,  especially  the  clergy,  if  ever  we 
seriously  intend  the  firm  establishment  of  this  church,  and  do  not 
industriously  design  by  cherishing  heats  and  divisions  among  our- 
selves, to  let  in  popery  at  these  breaches. 

"  As  to  the  author  himself,  I  cannot  forbear,  out  of  a  generous 
indignation  to  see  the  ashes  of  so  worthy  a  man  trampled  upon, 
to  take  notice  of  a  very  slight,  arid,  I  think,  unjust  character 
given  of  him  in  a  late  book,  entituled,  Historia  et  Antiquitates 
Universitatis  Oxoniensis ;  whether  by  the  author  of  that  book,  or 
by  some  other  hand,  is  variously  reported,  and  I  am  not  curious 
to  know.  The  former  part  of  the  character  is  chiefly  made  up 
of  invidious  reflections  upon  his  carriage,  and  the  circumstances 
of  his  condition  in  the  late  times ;  in  all  which,  because  I  did  not 
then  know  him,  I  leave  him  to  be  vindicated  or  censured  by  those 
who  were  witnesses  of  his  whole  behaviour  and  temper  in  that 
time.  The  latter  part  of  it  consists  of  flat  and  ill-favoured  com- 
mendations ;  as,  that  he  was  philosophies  et  -mathematicce  addictis- 
simus,  a  great  well- wilier  to  philosophy  and  the  mathematics  ;  the 
exact  character  of  an  empirick  and  an  almanack  maker,  when 
these  two  excellencies  happen  to  be  in  conjunction :  and  then, 
that  to  the  study  of  divinity  he  added,  eloquentiam  in  concionando 
non  contemnendam,  an  eloquence  in  preaching  not  to  be  despised : 
which  though  it  be  but  a  very  cold  and  slender  commendation 
both  of  his  divinity  and  his  eloquence,  yet  I  must  own  something 
of  kindness  in  it,  because  there  is  in  good  earnest  a  sort  of  elo- 
quence in  preaching  that  is  to  be  despised.  To  finish  the  kind- 
ness, and  that  nothing  might  be  omitted  that  might  any  ways 
cast  an  odium  upon  him,  as  he  is  placed  next  before  Mr.  Hobbes, 
so  I  cannot  but  observe  in  comparing  their  characters,  that  there 
is  apparently  far  less  of  envy  and  detraction  in  that  of  Mr. 
Hobbes,  than  in  this  of  the  reverend  bishop ;  for  which  I  can 
imagine  no  other  reason  but  this,  that  Mr.  Hobbes  was  then 
alive  to  speak  for  himself,  but  the  dead  bite  not. 

"  Upon  the  whole,  it  hath  often  been  no  small  matter  of  won- 
der to  me,  whence  it  should  come  to  pass  that  so  great  a  man, 
and  so  great  a  lover  of  mankind,  who  had  the  inclination,  the 
skill,  and  the  opportunity  to  oblige  so  very  many,  and  was  so 
highly  valued  and  reverenced  by  all  that  knew  him  ;  should  yet 
have  the  hard  fate  to  fall  under  the  heavy  displeasure  and  censure 
of  those  who  knew  him  not :  and  that  he  who  never  did  any 


694  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

thing  to  make  himself  one  personal  enemy,  should  have  the  ill 
fortune  to  have  so  many.  I  think  I  may  truly  say,  that  there 
are  or  have  been,  very  few  in  this  age  or  nation,  so  well  known, 
and  so  greatly  esteemed  and  favoured,  first  by  a  judicious  prince, 
and  then  by  so  many  persons  of  high  rank  and  quality  and  of 
singular  worth  and  eminency  in  all  the  learned  professions,  as 
our  author  was. 

"  And  this  surely  cannot  be  denied  him,  it  is  so  well  known 
to  many  worthy  persons  yet  living,  and  hath  been  so  often  ac- 
knowledged even  by  his  enemies,  that  in  the  late  times  of  con- 
fusion, almost  all  that  was  preserved  and  kept  up  of  ingenuity 
and  learning,  of  good  order  and  government  in  the  university  of 
Oxford,  was  chiefly  owing  to  his  prudent  conduct  and  encourage- 
ment. Which  consideration  alone,  had  there  been  no  other, 
might  have  prevailed  with  some  there  to  have  treated  his  memory 
with  at  least  common  kindness  and  respect.  Not  to  do  this  to 
the  dead,  and  in  a  character  of  him  that  was  intended  to  live  to 
posterity,  seems  very  hard ;  and  yet  I  shall  only  make  this  soft 
reflection  upon  it,  that  there  is  no  readier  way  for  any  man  to 
bring  his  own  worth  into  question,  than  by  endeavouring  to  de- 
tract from  the  universally  acknowledged  worth  of  other  men. 

"  Having  said  this  out  of  justice  as  well  as  friendship  to  the 
author,  and  by  way  of  necessary  vindication  of  him,  from  the 
envy  endeavoured  to  be  raised  against  him  by  some  in  this  pre- 
sent age,  I  leave  these  discourses  of  his  to  justify  themselves  and 
him  to  posterity. 

"J.  TILLOTSON." 

In  1 683,  my  lord  Russel  was  beheaded  for  treason,  as  was  pre- 
tended ;  but  in  reality,  for  his  vigorous  opposition  to  popery  and 
arbitrary  government.  During  his  imprisonment,  he  was  fre- 
quently visited  by  those  two  learned  divines,  Dr.  Burnet  late 
bishop  of  Sarum,  and  our  most  excellent  primate.  When  that 
lord  was  under  condemnation,  he  writ  him  the  following  lc 
which  will  fairly  clear  him  from  a  false  representation  made  of 
him  as  no  friend  to  that  doctrine  of  the  church  of  England,  pas- 
sive obedience. 

"  My  Lord, 

"  I  was  heartily  glad  to  see  your  lordship  this  morning  in  that 
calm  and  devout  temper  at  the  receiving  the  blessed  sacrain* 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

but  peace  of  mind,  unless  it  be  well  grounded,  will  avail  little  : 
and  because  transient  discourse  many  times  hath  little  effect  for 
want  of  time  to  weigh  and  consider  it :  therefore  in  tender  com- 
passion of  your  lordship's  case,  and  from  all  the  good-will  that 
one  man  can  bear  to  another,  I  do  humbly  offer  to  your  lordship's 
deliberate  thoughts  these  following  considerations  concerning  the 
points  of  resistance,  if  our  religion  and  rights  should  be  invaded, 
as  your  lordship  puts  the  case ;  concerning  which  I  understand 
by  Dr.  Burnet  that  your  lordship  had  once  received  satisfaction, 
and  am  sorry  to  find  a  change. 

"  First,  that  the  Christian  religion  doth  plainly  forbid  the 
resistance  of  authority. 

"  Secondly,  that  though  our  religion  be  established  by  law 
(which  your  lordship  urges  as  a  difference  between  our  case  and 
that  of  the  primitive  Christians)  yet  in  the  same  law  which  esta- 
blishes our  religion  it  is  declared,  that  it  is  not  lawful  upon  any 
pretence  whatsoever  to  take  up  arms,  &c.  Besides  that,  there  is  a 
particular  law  declaring  the  power  of  the  militia  to  be  solely  in 
the  king.  And  that  ties  the  hands  of  subjects,  though  the  law  of 
nature,  and  the  general  rules  of  Scripture  had  left  us  at  liberty ; 
which  I  believe  they  do  not ;  because  the  government  and  peace 
of  human  society  could  not  well  subsist  upon  those  terms. 

"  Thirdly,  your  lordship's  opinion  is  contrary  to  the  declared 
doctrine  of  all  protestant  churches ;  and  though  some  particular 
persons  have  taught  otherwise,  yet  they  have  been  contradicted 
herein,  and  condemned  for  it  by  the  generality  of  protestants. 
And  I  beg  your  lordship  to  consider,  how  it  will  agree  with  an 
avowed  asserting  of  the  protestant  religion,  to  go  contrary  to  the 
general  doctrine  of  protestants. 

"  My  end  in  this  is  to  convince  your  lordship,  that  you  are  in 
a  very  great  and  dangerous  mistake ;  and  being  so  convinced, 
that  which  before  was  a  sin  of  ignorance,  will  appear  of  a  much 
more  heinous  nature,  as  in  truth  it  is,  and  call  for  a  very  particu- 
lar and  deep  repentance ;  which  if  your  lordship  sincerely  exercise 
upon  the  sight  of  your  error,  by  a  penitent  acknowledgement  of  it 
to  God  and  men,  you  will  not  only  obtain  forgiveness  of  God,  but 
prevent  a  mighty  scandal  to  the  reformed  religion.  I  am  very 
loth  to  give  your  lordship  any  disquiet  in  the  distress  you  are  in, 
which  I  commiserate  from  my  heart,  but  am  much  more  con- 
cerned that  you  do  not  leave  the  world  in  a  delusion  and  false 
peace,  to  the  hindrance  of  your  eternal  happiness.  I  heartily 


696  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

pray  for  you,  and  beseech  your  lordship  to  believe  that  I  am  \vith 
the  greatest  sincerity  and  compassion  in  the  world, 

My  lord, 
Your  lordship's  most  faithful 

and  afflicted  servant, 
"July  20,  1683.  "  J.  TILLOTSON." 

And  in  his  last  prayer  with  his  lordship  on  the  scaffold,  he  thus 
concludes,  "  Grant,  Lord,  that  all  we  who  survive,  by  this  and 
other  instances  of  thy  providence,  may  learn  our  duty  to  God  and 
the  king."  What  could  a  man  have  said  more  in  behalf  of  any 
doctrine  of  the  church  of  England  ?  And  though  he  did  comply 
with  the  revolution,  yet  it  is  most  certain  that  he  never  changed 
his  opinion  in  this  point,  although  his  enemies  charge  him  with 
" e  apostacy  from  his  once  avowed  principle  and  doctrine  of  the 
church  of  England,  the  once  venerable  doctrine  of  non-resistance 
and  passive  obedience:  in  which  our  church  hath  taught  her 
children  how  they  should  behave  themselves  towards  men,  and 
approve  themselves  towards  God,  if  she  and  they  should  come  to 
be  persecuted  for  the  trial  of  their  faith,  as  the  purest  churches 
and  best  Christians  have  been  in  former  ages." 

I  cannot  make  a  better  reply  to  this  accusation,  than  in  the 
words  of  the  late  learned  bishop  of  Sarum,  in  his  answer  to  the 
foresaid  pamphlet,  which  does  undeniably  prove  that  here  was  no 
change  of  principles,  nor  departing  from  former  opinions. 

"As  I  have"  (says  his  lordship)  "expressly  and  publicly 
owned  a  reserve  for  resistance  in  case  of  a  total  subversion ;  so 
I  must  add,  that  to  my  knowledge,  other  divines  still  understood 
that  doctrine  of  non-resistance  with  this  reserve ;  though  tlu-y 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  mention  it.  If  a  man  were  to 
exhort  married  persons  to  their  duty,  he  might  use  that  gem-nil 
expression  of  St.  Paul,  that  the  husband  is  the  head  of  t/te 
even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  church :  and  that  as  the  church 
is  subject  unto  Christ,  so  wives  ought  to  be  subject  to  their  own 
husbands  in  every  thing:  he  might  say  all  this,  without  an 
exception;  and  yet  in  the  case  of  intolerable  cruelty,  the  \\if-' 
may  see  to  her  own  preservation ;  but  desertion  or  adultery  sets 
her  more  at  liberty.  In  the  same  manner,  when  we  exhort 

[«  See  a  pamphlet,  entituled,  "  Some  Discourses  upon  Dr.  Burnet  arid 
Dr.  Tillotson,"  &c.  p.  35.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  697 

children  to  obey  their  parents  in  all  things ;  we  do  not  suppose 
the  case  of  their  parents  going  about  to  kill  them,  nor  argue 
what  they  may  do  in  such  a  case.  Extraordinary  cases  ought 
not  to  be  supposed,  when  we  give  the  directions  that  belong  to 
the  ordinary  course  of  life ;  and  therefore  divines  might  preach 
submission  in  very  large  and  full  expressions,  who  yet  might 
believe,  that  a  total  subversion  was  a  case  of  another  nature, 
which  might  warrant  more  violent  remedies.  This  I  am  sure 
was  our  late  primate's  opinion.  This  was  that  which  we  laid 
before  that  great,  but  innocent  victim,  that  was  sacrificed  to  the 
rage  of  a  party,  I  mean  the  lord  Russell,  who  was  condemned  for 
treasonable  words,  though  there  was  not  one  witness  that  swore 
one  word  against  him :  it  being  only  deposed,  that  treasonable 
words  were  said  in  his  hearing ;  to  which,  as  was  sworn,  he  was 
consenting,  though  no  words  of  his  were  expressed,  that  imported 
any  such  consent.  The  true  case  of  that  whole  matter  was 
stated  thus ;  a  visible  design  was  carried  on  to  bring  in  popery 
and  arbitrary  government.  In  order  to  that,  quo  warrantors 
were  brought  against  several  cities  and  boroughs,  which  would 
have  changed  the  constitution  of  the  house  of  commons ;  and 
sheriffs  unduly  elected  were  put  on  the  city  of  London,  on  design, 
as  it  was  believed,  to  pack  juries.  These  things  were  thought 
just  grounds  of  resistance  ;  the  late  primate  and  myself  were  of 
another  opinion.  We  knew,  or  at  least  had  reason  to  believe 
we  knew,  the  secret  of  the  king's  religion  who  then  reigned  ;  and 
did  not  doubt  of  the  bad  designs  that  were  then  on  foot,  and  of 
the  illegal  actings  of  that  time ;  yet  we  still  thought  that  remote 
fears  and  consequences,  together  with  illegal  practices,  did  not 
justify  resistance ;  but  that  the  laws  both  of  the  gospel  and  of 
the  land,  did  bind  us  in  that  case  to  submission.  That  lord 
upon  this,  said,  he  did  not  see  a  difference  between  a  legal 
and  a  Turkish  constitution,  upon  this  hypothesis :  and  when  we 
told  him,  that  a  total  subversion  changed  the  case,  he  answered, 
then  it  would  be  too  late  to  resist,  In  all  that  affair  the  late 
primate  had  the  same  opinion,  and  no  other  than  that  he  had  to 
the  last.  Some  particular  considerations  restrained  him  from 
writing  about  it ;  but  he  did  not  decline  to  explain  this,  as  oft 
as  there  was  occasion  given  for  it. 

"  Upon  the  whole  matter,  there  are  two  questions  in  the  point 
of  resistance:  the  one  is,  whether  subjects  may  resist  merely 
upon  the  account  of  religion,  or  not,  either  to  force  a  general 


698  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

reformation,  or  to  secure  themselves  from  persecution  2  the  other 
is  concerning  the  constitution  of  states  and  kingdoms ;  and  of 
this  in  particular,  how  far  they  have  retained  or  lost  their 
liberties  ?  the  one  is  a  point  of  divinity,  the  other  is  a  point  of 
law  and  history.  As  to  the  first,  I  do  not  know  one  of  all  the 
divines  that  have  sworn  to  the  present  government,  who  are  not 
still  of  the  same  opinion  that  they  were  formerly  of,  and  that  do 
not  still  judge  resistance  on  the  account  of  religion  to  be  unlawful. 
Nor  does  it  any  way  reflect  on  them,  if  they  should  have  changed 
their  opinion  in  the  other  point,  which  falls  not  so  prop*  rly 
within  their  studies.  They  might  have  been  misled  by  chimerical 
notions  of  imperial  and  political  laws  ;  they  might  have  thought 
that  the  zeal  with  which  some  had  promised  to  stand  it  out 
against  a  popish  king,  threatening  they  would  tell  him  to  his 
face  (at  least  owning  that  it  was  their  duty  to  do  it)  that  he 
was  an  idolater,  a  bread- worshipper,  a  goddess-worshipper f, 
with  a  great  many  other  fine  names,  that  they  said  they  would 
give  him.  They  might,  I  say,  have  thought,  that  we  were  safe 
under  the  conduct  of  men,  who  were  so  bold  when  there  was  no 
danger ;  but  were  much  tamer  and  more  cautious  as  the  danger 
came  nearer  them.  Thus  many  might  go  into  wrong  notions  of 
our  government,  and  think  we  had  no  liberties  left  us,  but  what 
were  at  the  discretion  of  our  princes.  It  is  no  derogation  from 
the  learning  and  studies  of  divines  to  own,  that  though  the} 
still  of  their  former  opinion  in  that  which  is  theological,  and  that 
was  only  incumbent  on  them  to  know ;  yet  in  matters  of  law 
and  policy,  they  might  have  been  led  into  mistakes.  This 
answers  all  that  pompous  objection,  with  which  so  much  noi 
made,  and  upon  which  so  many  ill  words  have  been  fastened* 
A  great  many  have  not  at  all  changed  their  opinion,  even  in  this 
second  point ;  and  others  do  see  that  they  were  mistaken  in  tln-ir 
opinion  concerning  our  constitution,  and  the  nature  of  laws  and 
legal  security ;  and  the  right  that  arises  out  of  these,  in  the  < 
of  a  total  subversion." 

He  has  been  also  represented  as  no  lover  of  the  liturgy  of  tin- 
church  of  England.     Dr.  Calamy  tells  the  following  ston 
himg:   "Dr.  Tillotson  frankly  owning   in   a  sermon,  that 
Dissenters  had  some  plausible  objections  against  the  Common 

[f  Jovian,  p.  96.] 

[«  Calamy's  Abridgment  of  Mr.  Baxter's  History,  &c.  p.  22C.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

Prayer,  archbishop  Sancroft  sending  for  him  to  reprimand  him. 
he  stood  to  what  he  had  asserted.  The  archbishop  asked  him 
which  parts  of  the  Common  Prayer  he  meant ;  and  he  mentioned 
the  Burial  Office ;  upon  which  that  archbishop  owned  to  him 
that  he  was  so  little  satisfied  with  that  office  himself,  that  for 
that  very  reason  he  had  never  taken  a  cure  of  souls."  And 
because  the  truth  of  this  story  has  been  called  in  question,  Dr. 
Calamy  says,  that  he  had  it  under  the  hand  of  Mr.  Stancliffe, 
who  wrote  that  passage  in  the  margin  of  his  abridgement,  and 
afterwards  was  so  kind  as  to  send  him  the  book  for  his  own  use. 
I  shall  not  contest  the  truth  of  this  story,  let  it  be  true  or  false, 
this  worthy  prelate^s  zeal  and  affection  for  the  church  of  England 
will  sufficiently  appear  by  the  great  numbers  he  brought  over  to 
her  communion. 

This  year  (1683)  he  published  the  works  of  the  learned  Dr. 
Isaac  Barrow,  master  of  Trinity  college,  in  Cambridge.  And 
the  year  following  he  published  the  works  of  his  intimate  friend, 
the  excellent  Mr.  Hezekiah  Burton. 

Now  let  us  view  this  good  man  in  a  scene  of  friendship.  In 
the  year  1687,  his  intimate  acquaintance,  Mr.  Nicholas  Hunt,  of 
Canterbury,  lay  dangerously  ill  of  a  cancer,  and  when  Dr. 
Tillotson  was  informed  that  he  was  past  recovery,  he  sent  him 
the  following  excellent  letter  of  consolation,  to  comfort  and 
support  him  under  the  pressure  of  his  lingering  indisposition  : 

"Edmonton,  January  16^,  1687-8. 
"  Sir, 

"  I  am  sorry  to  understand  by  Mr.  Janeway's  letter  to  my 
son,  that  your  distemper  grows  upon  you  ;  and  that  you  seem  to 
decline  so  fast.  I  am  very  sensible  how  much  easier  it  is  to 
give  advice  against  trouble  in  the  case  of  another,  than  to  take 
it  in  our  own. 

"  It  hath  pleased  God  to  exercise  me  of  late  with  a  very  sore 
trial,  in  the  loss  of  my  dear  and  only  child,  in  which  I  do  per- 
fectly submit  to  his  good  pleasure,  firmly  believing  that  he  always 
does  that  which  is  best ;  and  yet,  though  reason  be  satisfied,  our 
passion  is  not  so  soon  appeased ;  and  when  nature  has  received 
a  wound,  time  must  be  allowed  for  the  healing  of  it.  Since  that, 
God  hath  thought  fit  to  give  me  a  nearer  summons,  and  a  closer 
warning  of  my  own  mortality,  in  the  danger  of  an  apoplexy: 
which  yet,  I  thank  God  for  it,  hath  occasioned  no  very  melancholy 


700  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

reflections ;   but  this  perhaps  is  more  owing  to  natural  temper, 
than  philosophy  and  wise  considerations. 

"  Your  case,  I  know,  is  very  different,  who  are  of  a  temper 
naturally  melancholy,  and  under  a  distemper  apt  to  increase  it ; 
for  both  which  great  allowances  ought  to  be  made.  And  yet, 
methinks,  both  reason  and  religion  do  offer  us  considerations  of 
that  solidity  and  strength,  as  may  very  well  support  our  spirits 
under  all  frailties  and  infirmities  of  the  flesh ;  such  as  these  : 

"  That  God  is  perfect  love  and  goodness ;  that  we  are  not 
only  his  creatures,  but  his  children,  and  are  as  dear  to  him  as  to 
ourselves ;  that  he  does  not  afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve  the  children 
of  men;  and  that  all  evils  of  afflictions  which  befal  us,  are 
intended  for  the  cure  and  prevention  of  greater  evils  of  sin  and 
punishment ;  and  therefore  we  ought  not  only  to  submit  to  them 
with  patience,  as  being  deserved  by  us,  but  to  receive  them  with 
thankfulness,  as  being  designed  by  him  to  do  us  that  good,  and 
to  bring  us  to  that  sense  of  him  and  ourselves  which  nothing  else 
perhaps  would  have  done :  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present 
life  are  but  short  and  light,  compared  with  those  extreme  and 
endless  miseries  which  we  have  deserved  ;  and  with  that  exceed- 
ing and  eternal  weight  of  glory  which  we  hope  for  in  the  other 
world ;  that  if  we  be  careful  to  make  the  best  preparations  for 
death  and  eternity,  whatever  brings  us  nearer  our  end,  brings  us 
nearer  to  our  happiness  ;  and  how  rugged  soever  the  way  be,  the 
comfort  is,  that  it  leads  us  to  our  Father's  house,  where  we  shall 
want  nothing  we  can  wish  for.  Now  we  labour  under  a  dangerous 
distemper,  which  threatens  our  life,  what  would  we  not  be  con- 
tented to  bear,  in  order  to  a  perfect  recovery,  could  we  but  be 
assured  of  it  2  and  should  we  not  be  willing  to  endure  much  more, 
in  order  to  happiness,  and  that  eternal  life  which  God  that 
cannot  lie  hath  promised  ?  Nature,  I  know,  is  fond  of  life,  and 
apt  to  be  still  lingering  after  a  longer  continuance  here ;  and  yet 
a  long  life,  with  the  usual  burthens  and  infirmities  of  it,  is 
seldom  desirable ;  it  is  but  the  same  things  over  again,  or  worse. 
So  many  more  nights  and  days,  summers  and  winters,  a  rep<-ti- 
tion  of  the  same  pleasures,  but  with  less  pleasure  and  relish 
every  day;  a  return  of  the  same,  and  greater  pains  and  trouble. 
but  with  less  strength  and  patience  to  bear  them.  These  and 
the  like  considerations  I  use  to  entertain  myself  withal,  not  only 
with  contentment  but  comfort;  though  with  great  inequality  of 
temper  at  several  times,  and  with  much  mixture  of  human  frail 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  701 

which  will  always  stick  to  us,  while  we  are  in  this  world.  How- 
ever, by  these  kinds  of  thoughts  death  seems  more  familiar  to  us, 
and  we  shall  be  able  by  degrees  to  bring  our  minds  close  up  to 
it,  without  starting  at  it.  The  greatest  tenderness  I  find  in 
myself  is  with  regard  to  some  near  relations ;  especially  the  dear 
and  constant  companion  of  my  life,  which  I  confess  doth  very 
sensibly  touch  me:  but  then  I  consider,  and  so,  I  hope,  will 
they  also,  that  this  separation  will  be  but  a  very  little  while; 
and  that  though  I  shall  leave  them  in  a  bad  world,  yet  under  the 
care  and  protection  of  a  good  God,  who  can  be  more  and  better 
to  them  than  all  other  relations,  and  will  certainly  be  so  to  those 
that  love  him,  and  hope  in  his  mercy. 

"  I  shall  not  need  to  advise  you  what  to  do,  and  what  use  to 
make  of  this  time  of  your  visitation.  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
that  you  have  been  careful  in  the  time  of  your  health  to  prepare 
for  the  evil  day,  and  have  been  conversant  in  those  books  which 
give  the  best  directions  to  this  purpose ;  and  have  not,  as  too 
many  do,  put  off  the  great  work  of  your  life  to  the  end  of  it. 
And  then  you  have  nothing  to  do,  but  as  well  as  you  can,  under 
your  present  weakness  and  pains,  to  renew  your  repentance  for 
all  the  errors  and  miscarriages  of  your  life ;  and  earnestly  to  beg 
God^s  pardon  and  forgiveness  of  them,  for  his  sake  who  is  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins :  to  comfort  yourself  in  the  goodness  and 
the  promises  of  God,  and  the  hopes  of  that  happiness  you  are 
ready  to  enter  into ;  and  in  the  mean  time  to  exercise  faith  and 
patience  for  a  little  while ;  and  be  of  good  courage,  since  you  see 
land ;  the  storm  which  you  are  in  will  soon  be  over,  and  then  it 
will  be  as  if  it  had  never  been ;  or  rather  the  remembrance  of  it 
will  be  pleasant. 

"  I  do  not  use  to  write  such  long  letters,  but  I  do  heartily  com- 
passionate your  case,  and  should  be  glad  if  I  could  suggest  any 
thing  that  might  help  to  mitigate  your  trouble,  and  make  the 
sharp  and  rugged  way  through  which  you  are  to  pass  into  a  better 
world,  a  little  more  smooth  and  easy. 

"  I  pray  God  to  fit  us  both  for  that  great  change  which  we 
must  once  undergo ;  and  if  we  be  but  in  any  good  measure  fit  for 
it,  sooner  or  later,  makes  no  great  difference. 

"  I  commend  you  to  the  Father  of  all  mercies,  and  the  God  of 
all  consolation;  beseeching  him  to  increase  your  faith  and  patience, 
and  to  stand  by  you  in  your  last  and  great  conflict ;  that  when 
you  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  you  may  fear 


702  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

no  evil ;  and  when  your  heart  fails,  and  your  strength  fails,  you 
may  find  him  the  strength  of  your  heart,  and  your  portion  for 
ever. 

"  Farewell,  my  good  friend,  and  whilst  we  are  here,  let  us  pray 
for  one  another,  that  we  may  have  a  joyful  meeting  in  another 
world.  So  I  rest,  sir, 

"  Your  truly  affectionate  friend  and  servant, 

"  J.  TILLOTSON." 

Mr.  Hunt  received  this  letter  with  great  joy,  and  during  his 
long  sickness  behaved  himself  with  a  truly  Christian  fortitude ; 
shortly  after,  it  pleased  God  to  remove  him  from  this  painful  life 
to  that  of  bliss  and  immortality. 

The  revolution  found  Dr.  Tillotson  dean  of  Canterbury  and 
residentiary  of  St.  PauPs,  both  eminent  stations  in  the  church, 
though  inferior  to  his  merit ;  yet  was  the  possessor  humble  enough 
to  think  them  too  considerable  for  one  person.  However  he 
made  the  best  use  of  them,  their  revenues  serving  only  to  enlarge 
his  capacity  of  doing  good,  and  giving  him  an  occasion  to  scatter 
the  seeds  of  virtue  in  more  different  soils,  by  which  some  at  least 
might  fall  upon  good  ground,  and  multiply  exceedingly.  One, 
who  knew  him  perhaps  as  well  as  any  man,  assures  us,  that  he 
neither  slackened  his  labours,  nor  advanced  his  fortunes  by  his 
preferments.  He  did  not  content  himself  with  such  a  residence 
as  answered  the  statute ;  that  was  barely  doing  his  duty,  and  only 
the  avoidance  of  scandal,  a  pitch  of  virtue  too  low  for  one  who 
had  so  just  a  notion  of  piety,  and  so  lively  a  sense  of  the  force  of 
example.  He  gave  as  much  of  his  time  and  labours  to  his  cathe- 
dral, as  was  consistent  with  his  obligation  to  attendance  on  the 
court.  Neither  when  he  was  there,  by  the  necessity  of  his  duty 
(for  he  was  the  king^s  chaplain)  did  he  make  that  use  of  a  court 
soil  as  is  usual,  but  contented  himself  with  deserving,  not  soliciting 
greater  preferments. 

Tn  the  year  1689,  it  was  soon  discovered  what  interest  this 
great  man  might  have  made,  if  his  temper  would  have  allo\\r<l 
him,  in  the  court  of  king  William  and  queen  Mary,  who  wei 
fond  and  desirous  of  having  him  near  them,  to  advise  then 
well  in  the  public,  as  their  own  private  religious  concerns,  that 
they  gave  him  the  place  of  clerk  of  the  closet,  on  purpose  to 
oblige  him  to  a  more  frequent  resort  to  court.     These  prii 
who  h-il  so  happily  preserved  our  endangered  religion,  sought  <mt 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  70S 

for  the  best  means,  and  fittest  instruments  to  secure  and  establish 
it  against  any  future  relapse ;  and  as  soon,  therefore,  as  the  civil 
liberties  were  a  little  settled,  the  ecclesiastical  came  next  under 
their  consideration.  The  powerful  interest  of  the  papists  in  the 
late  reign,  had  laid  the  poor  nonconformists  under  the  penalty  of 
several  severe  laws,  which  were  accounted  no  small  dishonour  to 
the  protestant  name.  But  now  these  being  suspended  by  an  act 
of  toleration,  and  a  Christian  liberty  indulged  to  dissenters ;  some 
who  were  not  contented  with  this  favourable  act  alone,  strove  to 
back  it  with  another,  which  was  calculated  to  take  them  all  into 
the  bosom  of  the  church  of  England.  This  scheme  was  well  known 
by  the  name  of  the  comprehension,  of  which  some  were  very  fond, 
and  others  wholly  averse  to  it ;  both  parties  thinking  themselves 
in  the  right,  and  actuated  by  the  true  spirit  of  Christianity,  fell 
into  very  indecent  and  unchristian  treatment  of  each  other ;  the 
common,  but  fatal  effects  of  attempts  in  alterations  of  religion. 
However,  a  bill  was  brought  in  and  passed  in  the  house  of  peers, 
but  when  it  came  to  the  commons  they  desired  his  majesty  to 
summon  a  convocation,  and  lay  the  matter  before  them.  And 
here  the  patrons  and  sticklers  for  church  power,  would  do  well  to 
consider  the  service  Dr.  Tillotson  did  their  cause  upon  this  occa- 
sion, and  retract  some,  at  least,  of  the  severe  calumnies  they  have 
loaded  his  memory  with,  as  one  who  was  no  friend  to  his  own 
order,  and  bent  upon  abridging  it  of  its  undoubted  privileges. 
What  notice  we  take  of  the  fact,  as  it  is  related  by  Dr.  Nichols, 
shall  not  only  be  historical,  but,  if  possible,  such  as  may  wipe  off 
these  aspersions ;  such  remarks  having  a  fair  connection  to  the 
life  of  the  person  which  we  are  relating.  First,  then,  take  the 
account  of  Dr.  Nichols h :  "  Whilst  this  bill  was  passing,  Dr. 
Tillotson,  a  person  of  excellent  judgment,  and  then  clerk  of  the 
closet  to  the  king,  declared  his  opinion  against  it.  And  as  he  had 
a  great  interest  in  the  king's  affections,  so  he  made  use  of  it  in 
bringing  him  over  to  his  opinion  in  this  matter.  He  laid  before 
him  how  frequently  we  had  been  reflected  on  by  the  papists,  that 
our  reformation  was  founded  chiefly  upon  parliamentary  authority ; 
that  we  should  not  give  them  a  handle  for  any  such  objection  for 
the  future :  that  the  affairs  of  the  church  did  chiefly  belong  to 
synodical  authority,  and  if  they  were  passed  by  the  venerable 

[h  Vide  a  Defence  of  the  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. 12mo.  p.  116,  17.] 


704  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

members  of  the  convocation,  they  would  not  only  be  more  accept- 
able to  the  body  of  the  clergy,  but  would  be  more  religiously 
observed  by  the  laity.  Adding,  moreover,  that  lest  affairs  of 
this  nature,  consisting  of  such  a  multitude  of  particulars,  might 
too  slowly  go  on  in  so  numerous  a  body,  the  best  way  would  be, 
as  had  formerly  been  done,  to  commissionate  several  of  the  most 
eminent  of  the  clergy  to  consider  of  some  methods  how  to  heal 
the  wounds  of  the  church,  and  to  establish  a  perpetual  peace 
among  us :  what  they  should  agree  upon,  to  be  considered  over 
again  by  the  more  consummate  wisdom  of  a  convocation :  and 
what  these  should  consent  to,  should  be  established  first  by  the 
synodical,  and  afterwards  by  the  parliamentary  authority." 

This  was  certainly  very  reasonable  advice,  and  of  no  small 
moment  to  the  church,  as  it  took  off  the  objection  of  a  parlia- 
mentary religion,  an  objection  which  the  papists  have  urged  with 
all  their  force  of  argument  and  wit.  I  shall  not  consider  whether 
the  Eoman  catholics'*  way  of  reasoning  is  just,  it  being  sufficient 
to  say,  that  they  imputed  it  as  an  high  scandal  to  the  church  of 
England,  to  owe  its  settlement  to  such  a  hand ;  and  therefore  the 
mitigation  of  that  scandal  was  wresting  an  arrow  out  of  the  quiver 
of  the  enemy,  or  at  least  rendering  it  incapable  of  wounding  when 
it  was  thrown.  Beside,  that  this  prudent  course  which  Dr.  Til- 
lotson  advised,  seemed  the  most  probable  of  any  to  take  effect,  as 
not  irritating  the  spirits  of  men  by  lessening  their  authority  on 
either  side,  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  powers  being  both  pre- 
served in  their  rights,  and  exercising  their  distinct  provinces  by 
this  method  which  he  prescribed.  How  much  controversy  and 
contention  do  we  here  see  vanish  into  nothing  !  only  by  putting 
business  in  the  proper  channel  it  should  flow  in,  which  a  less  cool 
head  might  have  easily  confounded,  and  got  a  reputation  too  for 
doing  either  party  so  considerable  a  service,  as  engaging  them  in 
a  quarrel.  But  I  believe  I  need  not  urge  the  wise  management 
of  this  worthy  person  any  farther,  as  an  argument  of  his  respect 
to  the  church,  or  his  tender  regard  to  her  authority.  Dr.  <  'u- 
lamyi,  and  sure  the  words  of  an  enemy  may  be  useful,  says, 
that  it  was  a  very  bad  piece  of  advice,  and  would  insinuate  to  his 
readers,  as  if  the  adviser  himself  repented  it  afterwards.  But 
till  he  can  find  a  better  reason  for  it,  than  his  bare  conject 
we  ought  to  believe,  that  the  man  who  was  honest  enough  to  g 

[l  Vide  his  Abridgment  of  Mr.  Baxter's  Life,  p.  446.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  70.-, 

such  good  counsel,  had  before  considered  the  matter  so  well,  as  to 
take  care  that  it  should  never  give  him  any  other  uneasiness,  than 
what  arose  from  its  want  of  success. 

The  king,  in  compliance  to  this  advice,  summoned  a  convoca- 
tion ;  and  issued  out  another  commission  to  thirty  divines  to  pre- 
pare matters  to  be  laid  before  the  convocation,  in  this  affair  of  the 
comprehension.  It  may  not  be  improper,  considering  the  great 
share  Dr.  Tillotson  had  in  this  business,  to  insert  the  commission 
in  this  place,  which  is  as  follows : 

"  Whereas  the  particular  forms  of  divine  worship,  and  the 
rites  and  ceremonies  appointed  to  be  used  therein,  being  things 
in  their  own  nature  indifferent  and  alterable,  and  so  acknow- 
ledged, it  is  but  reasonable,  that  upon  weighty  and  important 
considerations,  according  to  the  various  exigencies  of  times  and 
occasions,  such  changes  and  alterations  should  be  made  therein, 
as  to  those  that  are  in  place  and  authority,  should  from  time  to 
time  seem  either  necessary  or  expedient. 

"  And  whereas  the  Book  of  Canons  is  fit  to  be  reviewed,  and 
made  more  suitable  to  the  state  of  the  church :  and  whereas 
there  are  defects  and  abuses  in  the  ecclesiastical  courts  and  juris- 
dictions ;  and  particularly,  there  is  not  sufficient  provision  made 
for  the  removing  of  scandalous  ministers,  and  for  the  reforming  of 
manners  either  in  ministers  or  people  ;  and  whereas  it  is  most  fit 
that  there  should  be  a  strict  method  prescribed  for  the  examina- 
tion of  such  persons  as  desire  to  be  admitted  into  holy  orders, 
both  as  to  their  learning  and  manners. 

"  We  therefore,  out  of  our  pious  and  princely  care  for  the 
good  order,  and  edification,  and  unity  of  the  church  of  England, 
committed  to  our  charge  and  care ;  and  for  the  reconciling,  as 
much  as  is  possible,  of  all  differences  among  our  good  subjects ; 
and  to  take  away  all  occasion  of  the  like  for  the  future,  have 
thought  fit  to  authorize  and  impower  you,  &c.  and  any  nine  of 
you,  whereof  three  to  be  bishops,  to  meet  from  time  to  time,  as 
often  as  shall  be  needful,  and  to  prepare  such  alterations  of  the 
liturgy  and  canons,  and  such  proposals  for  the  reformation  of 
ecclesiastical  courts,  and  to  consider  of  such  other  matters  as 
in  your  judgments  may  most  conduce  to  the  ends  above  men- 
tioned." 

Ten  of  the  commissioners  were  then  bishops,  viz.  Dr.  Lam- 
VOL.  iv.  z  z 


706  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

plugh,  archbishop  of  York,  Dr.  Compton,  Dr.  Mew,  Dr.  Lloyd, 
Dr.  Sprat,  Dr.  Smith,  sir  Jonathan  Trelawny,  Dr.  Burnet,  Dr. 
Humfreys,  and  Dr.  Stratford,  who  were  the  bishops  of  London, 
Winchester,  St.  Asaph,  Rochester,  Carlisle,  Exeter,  Salisbury, 
Bangor,  and  Chester.  Twenty  other  dignitaries  were  added  to 
them;  as  Dr.  Stillingfleet,  Dr.  Patrick,  Dr.  Tillotson,  Dr.  Mag- 
got, Dr.  Sharp,  Dr.  Kidder,  Dr.  Aldrich,  Dr.  Jane,  Dr.  Hall, 
Dr.  Beaumont,  Dr.  Montague,  Dr.  Goodman,  Dr.  Beveridge, 
Dr.  Battely,  Dr.  Alston,  Dr.  Tennison,  Dr.  Scott,  Dr.  Fowler, 
Dr.  Grove,  and  Dr.  Williams. 

Dr.  Nichols  k  thus  proceeds :  "  The  reverend  persons  do  now 
forthwith  apply  themselves  to  the  business  which  was  laid  before 
them,  and  begin  their  work  with  a  review  of  the  Common-Prayer 
Book.  And  first  of  all  the  calendar  comes  under  examination, 
from  whence  the  apocryphal  lessons  are  expunged,  and  chapters 
out  of  the  canonical  books  are  substituted  to  be  read  in  their 
room.  The  creed,  which  is  called  AthanasiusX  because  it  is 
found  fault  with  by  some  persons  by  reason  of  the  damnatory 
sentences,  is  permitted  to  be  changed  for  the  Apostles1  creed  at 
the  discretion  of  the  minister.  The  collects  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  the  year  are  revised,  most  of  them  being  made 
anew,  and  rendered  more  suitable  to  the  epistles  and  gospels  of 
the  day :  and  this  with  so  much  elegance  and  purity  of  stile,  with 
so  much  pious  force  and  ardour,  as  nothing  could  tend  more  to 
excite  devotion  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  and  to  raise  up  their 
souls  to  God.  They  were  first  drawn  up  by  Dr.  Simon  Patrick, 
who  had  an  excellent  talent  this  way ;  Dr.  Gilbert  Burnet  added 
a  further  life,  and  force,  and  spirit  to  them;  after  this  they 
underwent  the  exquisite  judgment  of  Dr.  Stillingfleet ;  the  last 
and  finishing  stroke  being  given  to  them  by  Dr.  Tillotson,  who 
polished  over  whatever  was  left  rough  in  the  compositions,  with 
his  smooth  language  and  flowingness  of  his  easy  eloquence.  They 
likewise  agreed  upon  a  new  translation  of  the  Psalms  to  be  read 
in  the  daily  service  of  the  church,  more  agreeable  to  the  original 
than  the  present  is;  which  province  was  assigned  to  Dr.  Kiddrr. 
a  person  excellently  well  versed  in  the  oriental  tongues.  Sonic 
few  expressions  and  words,  which  lying  scattered  about  tin 
liturgy,  are  found  fault  with  by  its  adversaries,  were  collected  by 
Dr.  Tennison  ;  such  clear  expressions  being  substituted  in  their 
stead,  as  were  not  liable  to  be  excepted  against  by  the  n 
[k  Vide  Nichols's  Defence,  p.  118,  et  seq.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  707 

i 

captious.  There  are  some  few  other  things  proposed,  but  which 
were  entirely  to  be  referred  to  the  synod.  First  of  all,  that  the 
cross  in  baptism  should  be  in  the  election  of  the  parents  either  to 
have  it  signed  in  the  children's  foreheads,  or  omitted.  Secondly, 
if  any  nonconformist  minister  should  return  to  the  church,  he 
was  not,  as  the  custom  is  now,  to  undergo  a  new  ordination ;  but 
to  be  admitted  into  the  church  by  a  conditional  ordination,  like 
as  we  are  wont  to  do  in  the  baptism  of  those  persons,  of  whom  it 
is  uncertain  whether  they  are  baptized  or  no  ;  the  bishop's  hands 
being  imposed  on  them,  as  was  the  custom  among  the  ancients  \ 
in  receiving  those  clergy  in  the  church  who  had  been  ordained 
by  heretics.  Which  was  the  method  used  by  archbishop 
Bramhall m,  primate  of  Ireland,  when  he  gave  ordination  to  any, 
who  had  received  presbyterian  orders  in  the  times  of  the  late 
confusion. 

"  The  convocation  soon  after  assembled,  all  the  clergy  either 
avowedly  or  in  their  minds  highly  approving  or  condemning  what 
had  been  done  by  the  commissioners  with  relation  to  the  altera- 
tions. The  greater  part  of  the  clergy  of  the  convocation  being 
displeased  with  those  who  had  declared  for  the  alterations,  were 
very  earnest  to  make  Dr.  Jane  the  regius  professor  of  Oxford, 
prolocutor  of  the  convocation.  The  rest  being  persons  of  very 
great  esteem  in  the  church,  gave  their  votes  for  Dr.  Tillotson ; 
but  being  over-powered  by  numbers,  their  attempt  in  that  affair 
was  but  in  vain. 

"  After  this  the  king  ordering  the  convocation  to  attend  him, 
he  declares  his  mind  to  them  to  this  purpose:  he  gives  them 
earnest  assurances  of  his  favour;  and  tells  them  how  much  it 
was  his  desire,  that  all  his  subjects  should  live  peaceably  and 
lovingly  one  with  another,  and  unite  in  one  manner  of  worship : 
that  to  this  end  he  had  appointed  commissioners  to  prepare,  and 
lay  before  the  convocation  such  things  as  they  thought  fit  should 
be  altered:  that  he  heartily  wished  a  good  agreement  among 
them,  and  that  the  points  in  dispute  might  be  handled  with 
that  mild  and  charitable  temper  which  becomes  ministers  of  the 
Gospel. 

"  But  many  of  the  convocation  men  had  entertained  an  opinion 

[l  "Dionys.  Alexand.  apud  Euseb.  Hist.  Eccl.  lib.  7.  cap.  2.  Con.  Nic.  1. 
Can.  8.  Just,  sive  Author  Resp.  ad  Orthodox.  Resp.  18.  Theod.  Hist.  Eccl. 
lib.  i.  cap.  8."] 

[m  Vide  Bishop  Bramhall's  Life,  before  his  Works.] 

z  z  2 


708  ARCHBISHOP  TTLLOTSON. 

which  was  never  to  be  eradicated  out  of  their  minds,  that  by  this 
device  of  alterations,  a  design  was  laid  to  undermine  the  church  : 
that  episcopacy  being  already  abolished  in  Scotland,  there  were 
now  attempts  made  against  the  same  in  England.  That  they 
were  afraid  many  of  the  commissioners  for  the  alterations  were 
embarked  in  the  same  unwarrantable  project,  or  imposed  upon  by 
the  fallacies  of  designing  men.  That  the  dissenters,  although 
out  of  the  church,  were  already  very  formidable  enemies  to  it, 
but  if  let  into  the  church  they  would  overturn  its  constitution. 
That  the  church  was  sufficiently  protected  by  the  act  of  uni- 
formity, which  if  once  repealed,  they  knew  not  what  the  then 
present  parliament,  which  they  thought  shewed  too  much  friend- 
ship to  the  dissenters,  might  establish  in  lieu  thereof.  That  they 
had  rather  have  what  was  present  and  safe,  than  what  was  future 
and  uncertain. 

"  The  other  party  pleaded  thus  :  that  the  unhappy  contentions 
between  the  nonconformists  and  us  had  too  long  raged :  that  now 
both  of  us  being  tired  with  quarrelling,  wished  for  peace :  that 
unless  the  convocation  did  offer  some  terms  of  accommodation, 
the  bishops  would  not  be  able  to  justify  themselves,  in  making 
good  what  they  had  in  the  late  reign  so  religiously  promised. 
That  it  was  understood  by  all  who  so  highly  approved  their  propo- 
sitions, that  they  made  this  offer  of  reconciliation  with  the  dis- 
senters, in  the  name  of  all  the  members  of  our  church,  and  there- 
fore it  would  be  an  unworthy  thing  to  promise  that,  in  the  time 
of  our  adversity,  which  in  our  prosperity  we  should  refuse  to  make 
good.  That  the  king  being  now  earnestly  bent  upon  this  design. 
would  use  all  his  interest  to  promote  it;  but  if  we  should  pro- 
voke him  by  making  him  undergo  a  repulse  in  this  attempt,  he 
would  not  so  easily  be  brought  again  to  comply  with  it,  when  we 
ourselves  should  desire  it :  that  the  king  had  ordered  nothing  to 
be  laid  before  the  parliament,  but  what  should  be  before  agn  « <1 
to  by  the  convocation :  that  if  the  parliament  should  design  any 
thing  unkind  to  the  church,  they  might  establish  it  by  a  secular 
law  for  all  that  the  convocation  could  do  to  hinder  it.  And  lastly, 
though  the  nonconformists  should  obstinately  refuse  to  come  into 
the  church  upon  the  concessions  which  were  made  for  their  sakes, 
yet  nothing  was  laid  before  the  convocation  but  what  would  ti-ud 
to  the  greater  honour  of  the  church:  that  by  these  alteration- 
the  constitution  of  the  church  would  be  bettered,  and  all  pret  < 
of  separation  would  be  taken  aw.iy. 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  7<)i) 

u  Disputes  on  both  sides  were  carried  on  with  great  eagcrn. 
and  at  last  the  synod  is  dissolved,  without  concluding  any  tiling. 
But  no  misfortune  so  sensibly  afflicted  the  church,  as  this  dis.sc.Mi- 
tion  between  the  clergy.  For  hitherto  our  clergy  had  lived  with 
great  concord  among  themselves,  not  to  be  divided  by  any  arts 
of  their  adversaries.  For  in  the  late  times,  under  their  most 
afflicted  condition,  when  they  were  turned  out  of,  or  sequestered 
from,  their  livings,  by  reason  of  their  good  correspondence  with 
one  another,  they  bore  their  afflictions  the  more  easily.  And 
afterwards,  when  their  condition  was  bettered,  no  envy,  which  is 
wont  to  dissolve  the  friendship  of  others,  was  able  to  interrupt 
their  amity  :  but  now,  when  all  of  them,  perhaps,  in  their  several 
ways,  were  desirous  to  promote  the  good  of  the  church,  they 
unfortunately  accused  each  other  for  carrying  on  designs  for  its 
ruin."  Thus  far  Dr.  Nichols. 

In  the  year  1 69 1 ,  after  a  long  and  patient  expectation  on  the 
side  of  the  government,  that  the  nonjuring  bishops  would  comply 
to  take  the  oaths,  which  they  at  last  absolutely  refused,  it  was 
resolved  to  deprive  them,  and  fill  up  the  vacant  sees.  Among 
these,  archbishop  Bancroft  was  one,  whom  no  overtures  nor  con- 
descensions on  the  part  of  some  great  reconcilers,  could  bring  to 
acquiesce  in  the  conduct  of  the  Revolution,  and  take  the  oaths 
to  the  king  and  queen.  It  is  not  to  our  purpose  to  examine  into 
the  reasons  of  his  refusal ;  a  great  and  good  man  he  surely  was, 
though  without  any  disrespect  to  his  memory,  we  may  say,  far 
inferior  to  his  successor  Dr.  Tillotson.  He  it  was  who  was 
pitched  upon  in  these  difficult  times  to  sit  at  the  head,  and  steer 
the  church.  His  natural  modesty  made  him  earnestly  at  first 
withstand  the  royal  favour,  though  he  was  at  last  prevailed  upon 
to  accept  of  it ;  and  certainly  a  fitter  person  in  every  man^s  opi- 
nion, but  his  own,  could  not  be  found.  It  will  not  be  improper 
to  set  down  the  words  of  a  great  historian,  which  give  us  both 
the  motives  of  his  refusal,  and  acceptance  of  that  high  dignity. 
"  He  withstood  it  not,"  (says  the  bishop  of  Salisbury  n,)  "  from 
any  feeble  or  fearful  considerations  relating  to  himself:  he  was 
not  afraid  of  a  party,  nor  concerned  in  such  censures  and  calum- 
nies as  might  be  thrown  upon  him :  he  was  not  unwilling  to  sacri- 
fice the  quiet  of  his  life,  which  he  apprehended  might  soon 
decline  and  sink  under  so  great  a  load.  The  pomp  of  greatness. 

["  In  his  Funeral  Sermon.] 


710  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

the  attendance  upon  courts,  and  a  high  station,  were  indeed  very 
contrary  to  his  genius:  but  though  these  were  grounds  good 
enough  to  make  him  unwilling  to  rise  higher  in  the  world,  yet 
none  of  them  seemed  strong  enough  to  fix  him  to  an  obstinate 
refusal.  That  which  went  the  deepest  in  his  own  mind,  and 
which  he  laid  out  the  most  earnestly  before  their  majesties,  was, 
that  those  groundless  prejudices  with  which  his  enemies  had 
loaded  him,  had  been  so  industriously  propagated,  while  they  were 
neglected  by  himself,  that  he  believed  that  he,  who  (as  his  humi- 
lity made  him  think)  could  at  no  time  do  any  great  service,  was 
less  capable  of  it  now  than  ever.  But  their  majesties  persisting 
in  their  intentions,  he  thought  it  was  the  voice  and  call  of  God 
to  him,  and  so  he  submitted :  yet  with  a  heaviness  of  mind  that 
no  man  knew  better  than  myself.  But  as  he  engaged  in  it,  he 
formed  two  settled  resolutions,  from  which  he  never  departed. 
The  one  was,  that  whensoever  the  state  of  their  majesties  affairs 
was  such,  that  he  could  hope  to  be  dismissed  from  that  post,  he 
would  become  a  most  importunate  suitor  to  be  delivered  from  it. 
The  other  was,  that  if  the  infirmities  of  age  should  have  so  over- 
taken him  that  he  could  not  go  through  the  fatigue  and  labours 
of  it,  then  he  would  humbly  offer  it  up  to  their  majesties :  and  he 
charged  some  of  his  most  particular  friends  to  use  all  freedom 
with  him  in  this  matter,  if  they  should  observe  it,  before  it  were 
perceived  by  himself.11  Thus  the  bishop  of  Salisbury ;  and  for 
my  own  part,  I  think  it  unfair  to  suspect  an  account  given  from 
one  who  had  so  many  opportunities  of  a  right  information  from  a 
personal  knowledge,  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  this  great 
man.  This  kind  of  holy  force,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  had  been 
used  in  the  primitive  times  to  many  of  the  fathers ;  nor  was  his 
carriage  less  humble,  or  his  conduct  less  glorious  than  theirs,  in 
the  short  scene  which  he  acted  on  this  stage.  Consonant  to  this, 
see  that  most  excellent  form  of  prayer  °  which  he  composed  on  this 
occasion :  and  the  preparation  thereto,  for  that  great  trust  with 
which  he  was  about  to  be  invested,  take  in  his  own  words,  viz. 

"  May  30, 1691.  The  day  before  my  consecration  to  the  arch- 
bishopric, which  was  on  Whit-Sunday,  at  St.  Mary-le-Bow, 
when,  on  Whit-Sunday  eve  I  retired  to  Edmonton,  to  spend  that 
day  in  fasting  and  prayer,  to  implore  the  blessing  of  Almighty 
God  upon  that  action,  and  the  assistance  of  his  grace  and  Holy 

[°  See  the  14th  volume  of  his  Posthumous  Works,  p.  204  et  seq.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  711 

Spirit  to  be  vouchsafed  to  his  sinful  and  unworthy  servant,  whom 
his  wise  providence,  and  the  importunate  desire  of  their  majes- 
ties, king  William  and  queen  Mary,  the  best  of  princes,  (whom 
God  in  great  mercy  to  a  most  sinful  and  perverse  people  hath  by 
a  most  signal  providence  set  upon  the  throne  of  these  kingdoms, 
and  sent  (I  trust)  to  be  our  deliverers  and  benefactors  for  many 
generations  yet  to  come)  have  called  to  the  government  and  con- 
duct of  this  miserably  distracted  church  in  a  very  difficult  and 
dangerous  time. 

"  I  began  with  a  short  prayer  to  Almighty  God  to  prepare  my 
hgart  for  the  duty  of  this  day,  and  to  assist  me  in  the  discharge 
of  it,  in  such  a  manner  as  might  be  acceptable  in  his  sight,  through 
Jesus  Christ  my  blessed  Saviour  and  Redeemer. 

"  I  proceeded  next  to  a  thanksgiving  to  Almighty  God  for  his 
mercy  and  goodness  to  me  in  the  conduct  of  my  whole  life,  from 
my  first  entrance  into  the  world,  to  this  day. 

"  Next,  I  made  an  humble  and  penitent  confession  of  my  sins, 

and  earnest  supplication  for  the  pardon  and  forgiveness  of  them. 

"  Next  a  prayer  for  God's  blessing  upon  me,  and  his  holy  Spirit 

to  be  conferred  upon  me,  in  the  solemn  dedication  of  me  the  day 

following  to  this  high  and  holy  office. 

"  Then  I  read  the  prayers  in  the  consecration  office.  I  con- 
cluded with  a  prayer  for  the  king  and  queen,  and  a  short  ejacu- 
lation." 

This  his  behaviour,  was,  I  think,  truly  primitive,  and  a  sure 
presage  of  that  peace  and  tranquillity  the  church  would  enjoy 
under  so  good  a  pastor.  But  no  sooner  was  he  possessed  of  this 
eminent  station,  than  that  restless  party  who  had  opposed  all  his 
former  kind  offices  relating  to  the  comprehension,  began  to  mur- 
mur, and  express  their  resentments  at  his  promotion  ;  but  such 
men  gave  him  no  uneasiness.  "  He  being  "  (says  Dr.  Nichols  p) 
"  a  man  of  an  extraordinary  piety,  and  a  great  lover  of  peace ; 
and  for  fear  that  any  reflection  should  be  cast  upon  our  religion, 
upon  account  of  the  disagreement  of  the  most  considerable  men 
of  the  church,  upon  the  controversy  concerning  alterations,  he 
did  omit  letting  the  convocation  sit  for  a  considerable  time. 
Neither  was  there  any  man,  at  that  time,  that  was  displeased  at 
this  long  recess  of  that  body.  They  that  were  for  alterations  did 
hope,  that  after  a  considerable  intermission,  all  men's  passions 
would  be  so  asswaged,  that  they  would  consent  together  in  the 

[P  Vide  Defence,  &c.,  p.  124,  &c.] 


712  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

same  opinion.  And  those  of  the  other  party  were  not  displeased, 
that  those  matters  which  they  had  not  a  liking  to,  were  not  again 
importunately  urged  upon  them;  especially  when  the  occasion 
was  taken  away,  of  being  obliged  to  reject  what  was  proposed  to 
them  by  their  prince,  and  that  they  were  not  necessitated  to  incur 
the  displeasure  of  their  present  archbishop.1'  Thus  (says  the 
bishop  of  Salisbury)  he  went  on,  while  his  enemies  were  still 
endeavouring  to  bear  down  a  reputation,  which  gave  him,  as  they 
thought,  too  great  an  authority. 

In  the  year  1693,  his  grace  published  four  incomparable  ser- 
mons concerning  the  divinity  and  incarnation  of  our  blessed 
Saviour.  "  The  true  reason  whereof,'1  (the  reader  is  told  in  a 
short  advertisement  before  them)  "  was  not  that  which  is  com- 
monly alleged  for  printing  books,  the  importunity  of  friends ;  but 
the  importunate  clamours  and  calumnies  of  others,  whom  the 
author  heartily  prays  God  to  forgive,  and  to  give  them  better 
minds :  and  to  grant  that  the  ensuing  discourses,  the  publication 
whereof  was  in  so  great  a  degree  necessary,  may  by  his  blessing 
prove  in  some  measure  useful." 

But  among  the  inconveniences  which  he  expected  in  the  due 
discharge  of  this  difficult  office,  he  found  one  advantage,  which 
was  his  retirement  from  that  multitude  of  labours,  which  either 
his  necessary  business,  or  his  friendships  poured  in  upon  him. 
This  left  him  at  leisure  to  bend  his  thoughts  towards  the  good  of 
the  whole  church,  sometimes  himself  proposing  useful  designs 
for  it,  sometimes  encouraging  those  of  others,  and  always  praying 
for  its  prosperity.  To  this  end  he,  who  lived  but  for  the  good  of 
others,  began  to  choose  out  some  more  of  his  excellent  sermons, 
such  as  he  thought  were  the  best  calculated  for  the  universal  pro- 
motion of  virtue  and  piety.  These  he  especially  directed  for  incul- 
cating the  principles  of  early  religion,  family  duties,  and  the 
education  of  children ;  considerations  of  the  most  extensive  and 
necessary  influence  on  the  minds  and  lives  of  mankind.  See  how 
the  good  bishop  speaks  of  them  in  the  tenderness  of  a  fatherly 
and  primitive  spirit,  in  the  following  preface,  which  certainly 
breathes  the  soul  of  that  incomparable  man. 

"  Being,  I  hope,  for  the  remainder  of  my  life,  released  from 
that  irksome  and  unpleasant  work  of  controversy  and  wrangling 
about  religion,  I  shah1  now  turn  my  thoughts  to  something  more 
agreeable  to  my  temper,  and  of  a  more  direct  and  immediate 
tendency  to  the  promoting  of  tru<  religion,  to  the  happiness  of 
human  society,  and  the  reformation  of  the  world. 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  713 

"  I  have  no  intention  to  reflect  upon  any  that  stand  up  in  de- 
fence of  the  truth,  and  contend  earnestly  for  it,  endeavouring  in 
the  spirit  of  meekness  to  reclaim  those  that  are  in  error.  For  I 
doubt  not  but  a  very  good  man  may  upon  several  occasions  be 
almost  unavoidably  engaged  in  controversies  of  religion ;  and  if 
he  have  a  head  clear  and  cool  enough,  so  as  to  be  master  of  his 
own  notions  and  temper  in  that  hot  kind  of  service,  he  may 
therein  do  considerable  advantage  to  the  truth :  though  a  man 
that  hath  once  drawn  blood  in  controversy,  as  Mr.  Mede  expresseth 
it,  is  seldom  known  ever  perfectly  to  recover  his  own  good  temper 
afterwards. 

"  For  this  reason  a  good  man  should  not  be  very  willing,  when 
Ms  Lord  comes,  to  be  found  so  doing,  and  as  it  were  beating  Ms 
fellow-servants :  and  all  controversy,  as  it  is  usually  managed,  is 
little  better.  A  good  man  would  be  loth  to  be  taken  out 
of  the  world  reeking  hot  from  a  sharp  contention  with  a  perverse 
adversary ;  and  not  a  little  out  of  countenance,  to  find  himself  in 
this  temper  translated  into  the  calm  and  peaceable  regions  of  the 
blessed,  where  nothing  but  perfect  charity  and  good-will  reign  for 
ever. 

"  I  know  not  whether  St.  Paul,  who  had  been  taken  up  into 
the  third  heavens,  did  by  that  question  of  his,  Where  is  the  disputer 
of  this  world  ?  intend  to  insinuate,  that  this  wrangling  work  hath 
place  only  in  this  world,  and  upon  this  earth,  where  only  there  is  a 
dust  to  be  raised ;  but  will  have  no  place  in  the  other.  But  whether 
St.  Paul  intended  this  or  not,  the  thing  itself  I  think  is  true,  that 
in  the  other  world  all  things  will  be  clear  and  past  dispute :  to  be 
sure,  among  the  blessed,  and  probably  also  among  the  miserable, 
unless  fierce  and  furious  contentions,  with  great  heat  without 
light,  about  things  of  no  moment  and  concernment  to  them,  should 
be  designed  for  a  part  of  their  torment. 

"  As  to  the  following  sermons,  I  am  sensible  that  the  style  of 
them  is  more  loose  and  full  of  words,  than  is  agreeable  to  just  and 
exact  discourses :  but  so  I  think  the  style  of  popular  sermons 
ought  to  be.  And  therefore  I  have  not  been  very  careful  to  mend 
this  matter ;  chusing  rather  that  they  should  appear  in  that  native 
simplicity  in  which,  so  many  years  ago,  they  were  first  framed, 
than  dressed  up  with  too  much  care  and  art.  As  they  are,  I  hope 
the  candid  and  ingenuous  readers  will  take  them  in  good  part. 

"  And  I  do  heartily  wish  that  ah1  that  are  concerned  in  the 
respective  duties,  treated  on  in  the  following  sermons,  would  be 


714  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

persuaded  so  to  lay  them  to  heart,  as  to  put  them  effectually  in 
practice :  that  how  much  soever  the  reformation  of  this  corrupt 
and  degenerate  age  in  which  we  live  is  almost  utterly  to  be 
despaired  of,  we  may  yet  have  a  more  comfortable  prospect  of 
future  times,  by  seeing  the  foundation  of  a  better  world  begun  to 
be  laid  in  the  careful  and  conscientious  discharge  of  the  duties 
here  mentioned :  that  by  this  means  the  generations  to  come  may 
know  God,  and  the  children  yet  unborn  may  fear  the  Lord. 

"  I  have  great  reason  to  be  sensible  how  fast  the  infirmities  of 
age  are  coming  upon  me,  and  therefore  must  work  the  works  of 
Him,  whose  providence  hath  placed  me  in  the  station  wherein  I 
am,  whilst  it  is  day,  because  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can 
work. 

"  I  knew  very  well,  before  I  entered  upon  this  great  and  weighty 
charge,  my  own  manifold  defects,  and  how  unequal  my  best  abilities 
were  for  the  due  discharge  of  it ;  but  I  did  not  feel  this  so  sensibly 
as  I  now  do  every  day  more  and  more.  And  therefore  that  I  might 
make  some  small  amends  for  greater  failings,  I  knew  not  how 
better  to  place  the  broken  hours  I  had  to  spare  from  almost  per- 
petual business  of  one  kind  or  other,  than  in  preparing  something 
for  the  public  that  might  be  of  use  to  recover  the  decayed  piety 
and  virtue  of  the  present  age ;  in  which  iniquity  doth  so  much 
abound,  and  the  love  of  God  and  religion  is  grown  so  cold. 

"  To  this  end  I  have  chosen  to  publish  these  plain  sermons,  and 
to  recommend  them  to  the  serious  perusal  and  faithful  practice 
both  of  the  pastors  and  people  committed  to  my  charge ;  earnestly 
beseeching  Almighty  God,  that  by  his  blessing  they  may  prove 
effectual  to  that  good  end  for  which  they  are  sincerely  designed." 

I  need  not  relate  the  good  effects  of  these,  or  any  other  of  his 
grace's  excellent  compositions,  they  were  visible  in  that  eager 
thirst  the  world  had  after  them  ;  and  if  well  watering  the  flock  be 
one  great  duty  in  the  shepherd,  never  did  any  pastor  perform  it 
better.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  these  good  works  he  could  not  escape 
the  envy  and  malice  of  men ;  and  it  were  easy  to  gather  a  plen- 
tiful bundle  of  their  invectives,  if  we  thought  such  an  entertainment 
fit  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity.  But  they  are  dead,  some  in 
their  authors,  some  in  their  malignant  pens,  and  all  in  the  memory 
of  good  men.  It  will  be  enough  to  touch  upon  them  generally, 
in  the  words  of  one q  we  have  often  been  obliged  to  quote. — "  1 1  <  »w 

[«  The  bishop  of  Salisbury.] 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  715 

false  soever  these  calumnies  were  generally  known  to  be,  the  con- 
fidence with  which  they  were  averred,  joined  with  the  envy  that 
accompanies  a  high  station,  had  a  greater  operation  than  could 
have  been  imagined ;  considering  how  long  he  had  lived  on  so 
public  a  scene,  and  how  well  he  was  known.  It  seemed  a  new 
and  unusual  thing,  that  a  man  who  in  a  course  of  above  thirty 
years  had  done  so  much  good,  so  many  services  to  so  many  per- 
sons, without  ever  once  doing  an  ill  office,  or  a  hard  thing  to  any 
one  person,  who  had  a  sweetness  and  gentleness  in  him,  that 
seemed  rather  to  lean  to  excess,  should  yet  meet  with  so  much 
unkindness  and  injustice.  But  the  returns  of  impudence  and 
malice  which  were  made  to  the  Son  of  God  himself,  and  to  his 
apostles,  taught  him  to  bear  all  this  with  submission  to  the  will  of 
God ;  praying  for  those  who  despitefully  used  him,  and  upon  all 
occasions  doing  them  good  for  evil.  Nor  had  this  any  other  effect 
on  him,  either  to  change  his  temper  or  his  maxims,  though  per- 
haps it  might  sink  too  much  into  him,  with  relation  to  his  health. 
He  was  so  exactly  true  in  all  his  representations  of  things  or  per- 
sons that  he  laid  before  their  majesties,  that  he  neither  raised 
the  character  of  his  friends,  nor  sunk  that  of  those  who  deserved 
not  so  well  of  him  (I  love  not  to  say  enemies),  but  offered  every 
thing  to  them  with  that  sincerity  that  did  so  well  become  him,  that 
truth  and  candour  was  almost  perceptible  in  every  thing  he  said 
or  did.  His  looks  and  whole  manner  seemed  to  take  away  all 
suspicion  concerning  him.  For  he  thought  nothing  in  this  world 
was  worth  much  art,  or  great  management.  With  all  these  things 
he  struggled,  till  at  last  they  overcame  him,  or  rather  he  overcame 
them,  and  escaped  from  them."  For  on  the  1 7th  day  of  Novem- 
ber, in  the  year  1694,  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  illness,  which 
proved  fatal  to  him,  and  mournful  to  all  the  friends  of  true  piety. 
The  first  attacks  came  upon  him  while  he  was  in  that  employment 
in  which  he  delighted  most,  at  church,  and  in  the  worship  of  God. 
He  bore  them  with  his  usual  neglect  of  himself :  and  though  his 
countenance  shewed  he  was  ill,  he  would  neither  interrupt  nor 
break  off  from  those  sacred  exercises,  nor  make  haste  to  look  after 
his  health.  Ah !  the  unhappy  neglect  of  a  life  that  deserved 
so  well  to  be  carefully  preserved  !  The  fit  came  on  slowly,  but 
seemed  to  be  fatal.  All  symptoms  were  melancholy.  It  soon 
turned  to  a  dead  palsy.  The  oppression  was  so  great,  that  it 
became  very  uneasy  for  him  to  speak,  but  it  appeared  that  his 


716  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

understanding  was  still  clear,  though  others  could  not  have  the 
advantage  of  it:  he  only  said,  that  he  had  no  burden  on  his  con- 
science. All  remedies  proved  ineffectual.  He  expressed  no  con- 
cern to  live,  nor  fear  to  die,  but  patiently  bore  his  burthen,  till  it 
sunk  him  on  the  fifth  day,  and  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age. 
Thus  he  lived  and  thus  he  died.  He  was  buried  on  the  30th  of 
the  same  month,  in  the  church  of  St.  Lawrence  Jewry,  the  bishop 
of  Salisbury  preaching  his  funeral  sermon,  taking  for  his  text  St. 
PauPs  Epistle  to  Tim.  chap.  iv.  ver.  1.  I  have  fought  the  good 
fight,  I  haw  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith.  In  his  dis- 
course, though  from  the  natural  talents  of  the  preacher,  which 
were  very  great,  and  the  intimacy  of  their  friendship,  of  which 
none  had  a  greater  share,  one  might  reasonably  expect  justice  to 
the  memory  of  the  deceased ;  yet  was  it  such  a  subject  that  even 
bishop  Burnet  could  not  himself  reach  in  all  its  views,  and  describe 
with  an  adequate  eloquence.  He  has  said  indeed  a  great  deal, 
and  his  enemies  have  thought  a  great  deal  too  much. 

Speaking  of  his  early  candour  and  moderation  towards  those 
persons  who  differed  from  him,  "  he  did  not,"  says  his  lordship, 
"  treat  them  with  contempt  and  hatred ;  and  he  disliked  all 
levities  and  railings  upon  those  subjects.  This  gave  him  great 
advantages  in  dealing  with  them,  and  he  still  persisted  in  it,  how 
much  soever  it  was  either  disliked  or  suspected  by  angry  men. 
As  he  got  into  a  true  method  of  study,  so  he  entered  into  friend- 
ships with  some  great  men,  which  contributed  not  a  little  to  the 
perfecting  his  own  mind.  There  was  then  a  set  of  as  extra- 
ordinary persons  in  the  university  where  he  was  formed,  as 
perhaps  any  age  has  produced ;  they  had  clear  thoughts,  and  a 
vast  compass  ;  great  minds  and  noble  tempers.  But  that  whirh 
gave  him  his  last  finishing,  was  his  close  and  long  friendship  with 
bishop  Wilkins.  He  went  into  all  the  best  things  that  were  in 
that  great  man,  but  so,  that  he  perfected  every  one  of  tin -in : 
for  though  bishop  Wilkins  was  the  more  universal  man,  yet  he 
was  the  greater  divine  :  if  the  one  had  more  flame,  the  other  \\.is 
more  correct.  Both  acted  with  great  plainness,  and  were  raised 
above  regarding  vulgar  censures.  But  if  bishop  Wilkins  had  a 
talent  so  peculiar  to  himself,  that  perhaps  never  man  could 
admonish  and  reprove  with  such  weight  and  authority,  and  in  a 
way  so  obliging  as  he  did ;  so  no  man  knew  better  than  this  his 
great  friend,  the  art  of  gaining  upon  men's  hearts,  and  of  making 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  717 

themselves  find  out  that  which  might  be  amiss  in  them,  though 
the  gentleness  and  modesty  of  his  temper  had  not  so  well  fitted 
him  for  the  rough  work  of  reproving. 

"  Having  dedicated  himself  to  the  service  of  the  church,  and 
being  sensible  of  the  great  good  that  might  be  done  by  a  plain 
and  edifying  way  of  preaching,  he  was  very  little  disposed  to 
follow  the  patterns  then  set  him,  or  indeed  those  of  former  times. 
And  so  he  set  a  pattern  to  himself,  and  such  an  one  it  was,  that 
it  is  hoped  it  will  be  long  and  much  followed.  He  began  with 
a  deep  and  close  study  of  the  Scriptures,  upon  which  he  spent 
four  or  five  years,  till  he  had  arrived  at  a  true  understanding  of 
them.  He  studied  next  all  the  ancient  philosophers  and  books 
of  morality.  Among  the  fathers,  St.  Basil  and  St.  Chrysostom 
were  those  he  chiefly  read.  Upon  these  preparations  he  set 
himself  to  compose  the  greatest  variety 3  of  sermons,  and  on  the 
best  subjects,  that  perhaps  any  one  man  has  ever  yet  done.  His 
joining  with  bishop  Wilkins  in  pursuing  the  scheme  of  an 
universal  character*,  led  him  to  consider  exactly  the  truth  of 
language  and  stile,  in  which  no  man  was  happier  and  knew  better 
the  art  of  preserving  the  majesty  of  things  under  a  simplicity  of 
words ;  tempering  these  so  equally  together,  that  neither  did  his 
thoughts  sink,  nor  his  stile  swell :  keeping  always  the  due  mean 
between  a  low  flatness  and  the  dresses  of  false  rhetoric.  To- 
gether with  the  pomp  of  words  he  did  also  cut  off  all  superfluities 
and  needless  enlargements ;  he  said  what  was  just  necessary  to 
give  clear  ideas  of  things,  and  no  more  :  he  laid  aside  all  long  and 
affected  periods :  his  sentences  were  short  and  clear ;  and  the 
whole  thread  was  of  a  piece,  plain  and  distinct.  No  affectations 
of  learning,  no  squeezing  of  texts,  no  superficial  strains,  no  false 
thoughts,  nor  bold  flights ;  all  was  solid  and  yet  lively,  and  grave 
as  well  as  fine  :  so  that  few  ever  heard  him,  but  they  found  some 
new  thought  occurred ;  something  that  either  they  had  not  con- 
sidered before,  or  at  least  so  distinctly,  and  with  so  clear  a  view 
as  he  gave  them. 

3  The  greatest  variety.']  "  A  peraon  well  acquainted  with  Dr.  Tillotson,  has 
often  related  in  my  hearing,  that  Dr.  T.  told  him,  he  had  written  in  his  time 
a  thousand  sermons."     From  some  MS.  notes,  written  apparently  hy  a  well- 
informed  person,  in  a  copy  of  Dr.  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson,  in  the  possession 
of  the  editor. 

4  An  universal  character.']  See  "  An  Essay  towards  a  Real  Character  and  a 
Philosophical  Language,  by  John  Wilkins,  D.D.  Dean  of  Ripon,  and  F.R.S. 
1668."  fol. 


718  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

"  Whether  he  explained  points  of  divinity,  matters  of  contro- 
versy, or  the  rules  of  morality,  on  which  he  dwelt  most  copiously, 
there  was  something  peculiar  in  him  on  them  all,  that  conquered 
the  minds,  as  well  as  it  commanded  the  attention  of  his  hearers ; 
who  felt  all  the  while  that  they  were  learning  somewhat,  and  were 
never  tired  by  him ;  for  he  cut  off  both  the  luxuriances  of  stile, 
and  the  length  of  sermons ;  and  he  concluded  them  with  some 
thoughts  of  such  gravity  and  use,  that  he  generally  dismissed  his 
hearers  with  somewhat  that  stuck  to  them.  He  read  his  sermons5 
with  so  due  a  pronunciation,  in  so  sedate  and  solemn  a  manner, 
that  they  were  not  the  feebler,  but  rather  the  perfecter,  even  by 
that  way,  which  often  lessens  the  grace,  as  much  as  it  adds  to 
the  exactness  of  such  discourses. 

"  He  saw,  with  a  deep  regret,  the  fatal  corruption  of  this  age, 
while  the  hypocrisies  and  extravagancies  of  former  times,  and  the 
liberties  and  looseness  of  the  present,  disposed  many  to  atheism 
and  impiety.  He  therefore  went  far  into  this  matter :  and  as  he 
had  considered  all  the  ancient  and  modern  apologies  for  the 
Christian  religion,  with  an  exactness  that  became  the  importance 
of  the  subject,  so  he  set  the  whole  strength  of  his  thoughts  and 
studies  to  withstand  the  progress  that  this  was  making.  In 
order  to  that  he  laboured  particularly  to  bring  every  thing  out  of 
the  clearest  principles,  and  to  make  all  people  feel  the  reason- 
ableness of  the  truths,  as  well  as  of  the  precepts  of  the  Christian 

6  He  read  his  sermons."]  Dr.  Birch  has  said,  in  his  Life  of  Tillotson,  that 
"  he  was  never  capable  of  committing  his  sermons  to  memory,  or  preaching 
extempore,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  earlier  part  of  his  time,"  p.  22. 
But  in  relation  to  the  former  of  those  two  points,  the  manuscript  annotator, 
whom  I  have  before  cited,  declares ;  "  What  Dr.  Maynard,  his  immediate 
successor  in  Lincoln's  Inn,  has  told  me,  is  a  flat  contradiction  to  this.  The 
doctor,  finding  the  archbishop  one  day  in  his  study,  with  some  papers  before 
him,  his  grace  told  the  doctor,  that  he  was  looking  over  his  sermons,  with  u 
design  to  print  some  of  them :  '  For,'  said  his  grace,  '  when  a  man  has  a 
little  reputation  for  preaching,  they  will  be  printing  them,  when  he  is  dead.' 
The  doctor  telling  him  he  was  glad  his  grace  had  preserved  his  sermons, 
because  he  thought  his  grace  had  preached  from  short  notes  only ;  the 
archbishop  replied,  'he  had  always  written  every  word,  before  he  prc 
it ;  but  used  to  get  it  by  heart,  till  he  found  it  heated  his  head,  a  day  or  two 
before ;  and  after  that,  he  was  forced  to  leave  it  off.' 

"  The  same  Dr.  Maynard  also  told  me,  that  Dr.  Wake,  at  the  same  time 
preacher  at  Gray's  Inn,  one  day  told  him,  he  was  resolved  to  preach  no 
longer  without  book  ;  '  for  every  body  has  now  left  it  off,  even  I  >r. 
Tillotson.' " 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  719 

religion.  When  he  saw  that  popery  was  at  the  root  of  this,  and 
that  the  design  seemed  to  be  laid,  to  make  us  first  atheists,  that 
we  might  be  the  more  easily  made  papists,  and  that  many  did 
not  stick  to  own,  that  we  could  have  no  certainty  for  the  Christian 
faith,  unless  we  believed  the  infallibility  of  the  church ;  this  gave 
him  a  deep  and  just  indignation.  It  was  such  a  betraying  of  the 
cause  of  God,  rather  than  not  to  gain  their  own,  that  in  this  the 
foundation  was  laid  of  his  great  zeal  against  popery.  This  drew 
his  studies  for  some  years  much  that  way.  He  looked  on  the 
whole  complex  of  popery  as  such  a  corruption  of  the  whole  design 
of  Christianity,  that  he  thought  it  was  incumbent  on  him,  to  set 
himself  against  it,  with  the  zeal  and  courage  which  became  that 
cause,  and  was  necessary  for  those  times.  He  thought  the 
idolatry  and  superstition  of  the  church  of  Rome  did  enervate 
true  piety  and  morality ;  and  that  their  cruelty  was  such  a  con- 
tradiction to  the  meekness  of  Christ,  and  to  that  love  and  charity 
which  he  made  the  character  and  distinction  of  his  disciples  and 
followers,  that  he  resolved  to  sacrifice  every  thing,  except  a  good 
conscience,  in  a  cause  for  which  he  had  resolved,  if  it  should 
come  to  extremities,  to  become  a  sacrifice  himself. 

"  His  enemies  soon  saw  how  much  he  stood  in  their  way,  and 
were  not  wanting  in  the  arts  of  calumny,  to  disable  him  from 
opposing  them  with  that  great  success  which  his  writings  and 
sermons  had  on  the  nation.  His  life  was  too  pure  in  all  the  parts 
of  it,  to  give  them  a  pretence  to  attempt  on  that.  So  regular  a 
piety,  such  an  unblemished  probity,  and  so  extensive  and  tender 
a  charity,  together  with  his  great  and  constant  labours,  both  in 
private  and  public,  set  him  above  reproach.  That  honourable 
society r  which  treated  him  always  with  so  particular  a  respect, 
and  so  generous  a  kindness,  and  this  great  city,  not  only  the 
neighbourhood  of  this  place,  which  was  so  long  happy  in  him, 
but  the  whole  extent  of  it,  knew  him  too  well,  and  esteemed  him 
too  much,  for  those  his  enemies  to  adventure  on  the  common  arts 
of  defaming :  subtle  methods  were  to  be  used,  since  his  virtue  was 
too  exemplary  to  be  soiled  in  the  ordinary  way. 

"  His  endeavouring  to  make  out  every  thing  in  religion  from 
clear  and  plain  principles,  and  with  a  fulness  of  demonstrative 
proof,  was  laid  hold  on  to  make  him  pass  for  one  that  could 
believe  nothing  that  lay  beyond  the  compass  of  human  reason : 

[r  Lincoln's-inn.] 


720  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

and  his  tender  method  of  treating  with  dissenters,  his  endeavours 
to  extinguish  that  fire,  and  to  unite  us  among  ourselves,  against 
those  who  understood  their  own  interest  well,  and  pursued  it 
closely,  inflaming  our  differences,  and  engaging  us  into  violent 
animosities,  while  they  shifted  sides,  and  still  gained  ground, 
whether  in  the  methods  of  toleration,  or  of  a  strict  execution  of 
penal  laws,  as  it  might  serve  their  ends ;  those  calm  and  wise 
designs  of  his,  I  say,  were  represented  as  a  want  of  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  the  church,  and  an  inclination  towards  those  who  de- 
parted from  it.  But  how  unhappily  successful  soever  they  might 
be,  in  infusing  those  jealousies  of  him,  into  some  warm  and 
unwary  men,  he  still  went  on  in  his  own  way.  He  would  neither 
depart  from  his  moderation,  nor  take  pains  to  cover  himself  from 
so  false  an  imputation.  He  thought  the  openness  of  his  temper, 
the  course  of  his  life,  his  sincerity,  and  the  visible  effects  of  his 
labours,  which  had  contributed  so  much  to  turn  the  greatest  part 
of  this  vast  city  to  a  hearty  love  of  the  church,  and  a  firm 
adhering  to  the  communion  of  it,  in  which  no  man  was  ever 
more  eminently  distinguished  than  he  was :  he  thought,  I  say, 
that  constant  zeal  with  which  he  had  always  served  such  as  came 
to  labour  in  this  great  city,  and  by  which  he  had  been  so  singu- 
larly useful  to  them ;  he  thought  the  great  change  that  had  been 
made  in  bringing  men's  minds  off  from  many  wild  opinions,  to 
sober  and  steady  principles,  and  that  in  so  prudent  a  manner, 
that  things  were  done  without  inen^s  perceiving  it,  or  being  either 
startled  or  fretted  by  the  peevishness  which  is  raised  and  kept  up 
by  contradiction  or  disputing,  in  which,  without  derogating  from 
other  men's  labours,  no  man  had  a  larger  share  than  himself; 
upon  all  these  reasons,  I  say,  he  thought  that  his  conduct  needed 
no  apology,  but  that  it  was  above  it. 

After  the  restoration  of  the  church,  anger  upon  those  heads 
was  both  more  in  fashion,  and  seemed  more  excusable;  men 
coming  then  out  of  the  injustice  and  violence  by  which  they  had 
been  so  long  ill  used,  and  were  so  much  provoked ;  yet  neither 
that,  nor  the  narrowness  of  his  fortune,  while  he  needed  support-, 
and  saw  what  was  the  shortest  way  to  arrive  at  them,  could  mak*- 
him  change  his  strain. 

"  His  life  was  not  only  free  from  blemishes,  which  is  but  a  low 
size  of  commendation ;  it  shined  in  all  the  parts  of  it.     In  his 
domestic  relations,  in  his  friendships,  in  the  whole  common 
business,  he  was  always  a  pattern,  easy  and  humble,  frank  and 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  721 

open,  tender-hearted  and  bountiful,  kind  and  obliging,  in  the 
greatest  as  well  as  the  smallest  matters.  A  decent  but  grave 
cheerfulness  made  his  conversation  as  lively  and  agreeable,  as  it 
was  useful  and  instructing  :  he  was  ever  in  good  humour,  always 
the  same,  both  accessible  and  affable :  he  heard  every  thing 
patiently :  was  neither  apt  to  mistake  nor  to  suspect :  his  own 
great  candour  disposing  him  to  put  the  best  constructions,  and  to 
judge  the  most  favourably  of  all  persons  and  things.  He  passed 
over  many  injuries,  and  was  ever  ready  to  forgive  the  greatest, 
and  to  do  all  good  offices  even  to  those  who  had  used  him 
very  ill.  He  was  never  imperious  nor  assuming  :  and  though  he 
had  a  superior  judgment  to  most  men,  yet  he  never  dictated  to 
others.  Few  men  had  observed  human  nature  more  carefully, 
could  judge  better,  and  make  larger  allowances  for  the  frailties  of 
mankind  than  he  did.  He  lived  in  a  due  neglect  of  his  person, 
and  contempt  of  pleasure,  but  never  affected  pompous  severities. 
He  despised  wealth,  but  as  it  furnished  him  for  charity,  in  which 
he  was  both  liberal  and  judicious. 

"  Thus  his  course  in  the  private  virtues  and  capacities  of  a 
Christian  was  of  a  sublime  pitch  :  his  temper  had  made  him  inca- 
pable of  the  practices  either  of  craft  or  violence. 

"  In  his  function,  he  was  a  constant  preacher,  and  diligent  in 
all  the  other  parts  of  his  duty  :  for  though  he  had  no  care  of  souls 
upon  him,  yet  few  that  had,  laboured  so  painfully  as  he  did ;  in 
visiting  the  sick,  in  comforting  the  afflicted,  and  in  settling  such 
as  were  either  shaken  in  their  opinions,  or  troubled  in  mind.  He 
had  a  great  compass  in  learning :  what  he  knew,  he  had  so  per- 
fectly digested,  that  he  was  truly  the  master  of  it.  But  the 
largeness  of  his  genius,  and  the  correctness  of  his  judgment, 
carried  him  much  farther,  than  the  leisure  that  he  had  enjoyed 
for  study,  seemed  to  furnish  him  :  for  he  could  go  a  great  way 
upon  general  hints.  Thus  he  lived,  thus  he  ran,  and  thus  he 
finished  his  course. 

"  He  kept  the  faith.  If  fidelity  is  meant  by  this,  no  man  made 
promises  more  unwillingly,  but  observed  them  more  religiously 
than  he  did.  The  sacred  vows  of  his  function  were  conscien- 
tiously pursued  by  him :  he  reckoned  himself  dedicated  to  the 
service  of  God,  and  to  the  doing  of  good.  In  this  he  lived  ;  and 
seemed  to  live  to  no  other  end.  But  if  by  keeping  the  faith,  be  to 
be  understood  the  preserving  and  handing  down  the  sacred  trust 
of  the  Christian  doctrine,  this  he  maintained  pure  and  undefiled. 

VOL.   IV.  3  A 


722  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

Even  in  his  younger  days,  when  he  had  a  great  liveliness  of 
thought,  and  fineness  of  imagination,  he  avoided  the  disturbing 
the  peace  of  the  church  with  particular  opinions,  or  an  angry 
opposition  about  more  indifferent,  or  doubtful  matters.  He  lived 
indeed  in  great  friendship  with  men  that  differed  from  him.  He 
thought  the  surest  way  to  bring  them  off  from  their  mistakes, 
was  by  gaining  upon  their  hearts  and  affections  :  and  in  an  age  of 
such  great  dissolution  as  this  is,  he  judged  that  the  best  way  to 
put  a  stop  to  growing  impiety,  was  first  to  establish  the  principles 
of  natural  religion,  and  from  that  to  advance  to  the  proof  of  the 
Christian  religion,  and  of  the  Scriptures:  which  being  once 
solidly  done,  would  soon  settle  all  other  things.  Therefore  he 
was  in  great  doubt,  whether  the  surest  way  to  persuade  the 
world  to  the  belief  of  the  sublime  truths  that  are  contained  in 
the  Scriptures,  concerning  God,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  concerning  the  person  of  Christ,  was  to  enter 
much  into  the  discussing  of  those  mysteries.  He  feared  that  an 
indiscreet  dwelling  and  descanting  upon  those  things,  might  do 
more  hurt  than  good.  He  thought  the  maintaining  these  doc- 
trines as  they  are  proposed  in  the  Scriptures,  without  entering 
too  much  into  explanations  or  controversies,  would  be  the  most 
effectual  way  to  preserve  the  reverence  that  was  due  to  them,  and 
to  fix  them  in  men's  belief.  But  when  he  was  desired  by  some, 
and  provoked  by  others,  and  saw  just  occasions  moving  him  to  it, 
he  asserted  those  great  mysteries  with  that  strength  and  clear- 
ness, that  was  his  peculiar  talent.  He  thought  the  less  men's 
consciences  were  entangled,  and  the  less  the  communion  of  the 
church  was  clogged  with  disputable  opinions  or  practices,  the 
world  would  be  the  happier,  consciences  the  freer,  and  the  church 
the  quieter.  He  made  the  Scriptures  the  measure  of  his  faith, 
and  the  chief  subject  of  all  his  meditations. 

"  He  indeed  judged  that  the  great  design  of  Christianity  was 
the  reforming  men's  natures,  and  governing  their  actions,  the 
restraining  their  appetites  and  passions,  the  softening  their  tem- 
pers, and  sweetening  their  humours,  the  composing  their  affec- 
tions, and  the  raising  their  minds  above  the  interests  and  follies 
of  this  present  world,  to  the  hope  and  pursuit  of  endless  blessed- 
ness :  and  he  considered  the  whole  Christian  doctrine  as  a  system 
of  principles,  all  tending  to  this.  He  looked  on  men^s  contending 
about  lesser  matters,  or  about  subtleties  relating  to  those  that 
are  greater,  as  one  of  the  chief  practices  of  the  powers  of  dark- 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  723 

ness,  to  defeat  the  true  ends  for  which  the  Son  of  God  came  into 
the  world ;  and  that  they  did  lead  men  into  much  dry  and  angry 
work,  who  while  they  were  hot  in  the  making  parties,  and  settling 
opinions,  became  so  much  the  slacker  in  those  great  duties,  which 
were  chiefly  designed  by  the  Christian  doctrine. 

"  I  have  now  viewed  him  in  this  light,  in  which  St.  Paul  does 
here  view  himself,  and  have  considered  how  much  of  that  cha- 
racter belonged  to  him.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  went 
over  these  things  often  in  his  own  thoughts,  with  the  same  pros- 
pect that  St.  Paul  had :  for  though  he  seemed  not  to  apprehend 
that  death  was  so  near  him,  as  it  proved  to  be,  yet  he  thought  it 
was  not  far  from  him.  He  spoke  often  of  it  as  that  which  he  was 
longing  for,  and  which  he  would  welcome  with  joy." 

We  see  that  this  is  but  a  summary  view  of  this  great  man, 
and  such  a  one  as  carries  with  it  all  the  marks  of  truth,  candour, 
and  sincerity.  If  we  should  add  the  character  which  others,  less 
suspected  by  some  of  partiality  than  the  foregoing  author,  give, 
we  shall  find  that  they  exceed  what  his  friend  had  said.  Dean 
Sherlock,  speaking  of  the  great  and  noble  designs  queen  Mary 8 
had  formed  to  promote  true  religion,  and  the  service  of  the 
church  of  England,  could  not  help  upon  this  occasion  giving  a 
just  encomium  upon  the  archbishop  in  the  following  manner :  "  I 
have"  (says  he)  "reason  to  say  this  from  those  frequent  intima- 
tions I  have  had  from  our  late  admirable  primate,  who  had  great 
designs  himself  to  serve  the  Christian  religion,  and  the  church  of 
England,  in  its  truest  interests ;  and  had  inspired  their  majes- 
ties and  particularly  the  queen,  who  had  more  leisure  for  such 
thoughts,  with  the  same  great  and  pious  designs.  It  may  be  no 
churchman  ever  had,  and  I  am  sure,  not  more  deservedly,  a 
greater  interest  in  his  prince's  favour 6 ;  and  the  great  use  he 
made  of  it  was  to  do  public  service  to  religion,  and  whatever  some 
men  might  suspect,  to  the  church  of  England,  though  it  may  be 
not  perfectly  in  their  way ;  and  the  greatest  fault  I  knew  he  had. 
was  that  some  envious  and  ambitious  men  could  not  bear  his 

[•  See  his  Sermon  preached  at  the  Temple  on  the  Queen's  death.] 
6  His  prince's  favour.]  "  When  Mr.  Chadwick,  the  archbishop's  son-in-law, 
presented  a  volume  of  his  father's  sermons  to  the  king,  his  majesty  said  to 
him,  <  I  have  read  all  your  father's  works,  and  I  will  read  this.  He  was 
the  best  man  that  ever  I  knew,  and  the  best  friend  that  ever  I  had.'  Which 
words  the  king  always  repeated  upon  every  like  occasion."  MS.  notes, 
before  cited. 

3  A2 


724  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

greatness,  which  he  himself  never  courted,  nay,  which  he  indus- 
triously avoided.  Before  this,  all  England  knew,  and  owned  his 
worth :  and  had  it  been  put  to  the  poll,  there  had  been  vast  odds 
on  his  side,  that  he  would  have  been  voted  into  the  see  of  Can- 
terbury ;  for  no  man  had  ever  a  clearer  and  brighter  reason,  a 
truer  judgment,  or  more  easy  and  happy  expression,  nor  a  more 
inflexible  fearless  honesty.  He  was  a  true  and  hearty  friend 
wherever  he  professed  to  be  so ;  though  he  had  many  enemies  at 
last,  he  took  care  to  make  none ;  he  was  obliging  to  all  men ; 
and  though  he  could  not  easily  part  with  a  friend,  he  could  easily 
forgive  an  enemy.  But  I  cannot  give  you  the  character  of  this 
great  man  now ;  what  I  have  already  said,  I  confess,  is  an  excur- 
sion, which  I  hope  you  will  pardon,  to  the  passion  of  an  old 
friend;  and  learn  from  two  great  examples,  that  neither  the 
greatest  innocence,  virtue,  or  merit,  can  defend  either  crowned  or 
mitred  heads  from  the  lash  of  spiteful  and  envenomed  tongues." 
Thus  far  dean  Sherlock. — Another  friend  says  of  him ;  "  When 
he  was  importuned  to  use  his  interest  with  great  men  for  his 
friends,  upon  any  vacancies  of  preferment  in  their  gift,  he  would 
sometimes  desire  to  be  excused  from  it,  telling  them  that  he  had 
often  paid  dear  for  such  favours,  since  he  had  been  forced  in 
return,  and  upon  their  request,  to  give  livings  to  others,  which 
were  of  double  or  treble  value  to  those  he  had  obtained  from 
them,  and  yet  this  could  not  be  avoided ;  and  therefore  he  in- 
treated  those  who  had  expectations  from  him,  patiently  to  wait 
till  preferments  fell,  which  were  in  his  own  gift,  and  disposal." 

Not  to  add  the  many  panegyrics  upon  him  from  printed  books, 
I  cannot  pass  by  one  from  a  manuscript  diary  of  a  late  learned 
and  pious  divine,  because  there  is  a  particular  in  it  which  must 
arise  from  a  personal  knowledge  of  bishop  Tillotson. — "He 
taught7,"  says  he,  "by  his  sermons,  more  ministers  to  preach 
well,  and  more  people  to  live  well,  than  any  other  man  since  the 
apostles'  days ;  he  was  the  ornament  of  the  last  century,  and  the 
glory  of  his  function;  in  the  pulpit  another  Chrysostom,  and 
in  the  episcopal  chair  a  second  Cranmer.  He  was  so  exceeding 
charitable,  that  while  in  a  private  station,  he  always  laid  aside 
two-tenths  of  his  income  for  charitable  uses." 

Of  his  grace's  writings,  one  volume  in  folio,  consisting  of  fifty- 

i  He  taught.']  See  Life  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  William  Burkit,  M.A.  Vicar  and 
Lecturer  of  Dcdham,  by  Nath.  Parkhurst,  M.A.  London,  1704.  8vo.  p.  32. 


ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.  725 

two  sermons,  and  the  Rule  of  Faith,  were  published  in  his  life- 
time, and  corrected  by  his  own  hand.  Those  which  came  abroad 
after  his  death  from  his  chaplain  Dr.  Barker,  make  two  volumes 
in  folio,  the  value  of  which,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  price  of 
the  copy,  being  two  thousand  five  hundred  guineas,  is  not  inferior 
to  the  former.  This,  indeed,  was  the  only  legacy  he  left  to  his 
family,  his  extensive  charity  consuming  his  yearly  revenues  as 
constantly  as  they  came  into  his  hands.  If  charity  be  the  charac- 
teristic of  a  true  disciple,  surely  he  who  exhausted  all  he  had  in 
the  noblest  manner,  and  trusted  in  Providence  for  the  future  sup- 
port of  his  own  family,  deserves  that  name  more  truly,  than  any 
in  these  late  corrupted  ages  can  pretend  to.  But  the  God,  whom 
he  served  in  the  strictness  of  the  letter  of  the  commandment,  suf- 
fered not  them  to  want ;  the  royal  bounty  exerting  itself  to  his 
widow,  as  I  find  in  the  two  following  grants,  taken  from  the  ori- 
ginal records  in  the  office  of  the  Bolls  in  Chancery-lane ;  viz. 

Anno  7°  Guliel.  Tertii. 

"  The  king  (May  2)  granteth  unto  Elizabeth  Tillotson,  widow, 
and  relict  of  John,  late  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  an  annuity  of 
400£.  during  the  term  of  her  natural  life." 

Anno  10°  Guliel.  Tertii. 

"The  king  (August  18th)  granteth  unto  Elizabeth  Tillotson, 
relict  of  archbishop  Tillotson,  200£.  per  annum,  as  an  addition  to 
her  annuity  of  400?.  per  annum,  granted  to  her  by  letters  patent, 
dated  May  2,  1695." 

As  to  the  family  of  the  archbishop,  all  that  we  can  learn  of 
them  is,  that  his  lady  was  the  daughter 8  of  Dr.  French,  whose 
widow  bishop  Wilkins  married :  that  he  himself  mentions  the  loss 
of  his  only  daughter,  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Hunt ;  and  that  she  was 
married  to  James  Chadwick,  esq.  to  whom  bishop  Williams  dedi- 
cates his  Vindication  of  his  grace's  sermons  from  the  charge  of 
Socinianism. 

8  Was  the  daughter.']  "I  have  often  heard  it  pleasantly  related,  that 
when  Dr.  Wilkins  proposed  Dr.  Tillotson  to  his  daughter,  upon  her  de- 
siring to  be  excused,  her  father  said  to  her,  *  Betty,  you  shall  have  him, 
for  he  is  the  best  polemical  divine  this  day  in  England.'"  MS.  notes, 
before  cited. 


726  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

Thus  much  could  we  collect  of  this  great  man,  which  though 
but  imperfect,  the  bishop  of  Salisbury,  who  supplied  us  with  some 
memoirs,  and  promising  us  many  more,  dying  while  this  work  was 
in  hand ;  but  if  any  one  can  give  us  any  further  notices  of  any 
thing  that  relates  to  him,  we  shall  hereafter  insert  them  with  all 
due  acknowledgment  and  gratitude. 


INDEX. 


A. 


ABJURATION,  for  heresy,  i.  225,  n.  Wick- 

liffe  ;  345,  6,  Thorpe  ;  389,  n.  Cobham ; 

392,  3,  do. ;  nature  and  meaning  of,  424, 

Supplementary  Extracts;  Bilney's,  ii.  23, 

Bilney,  and  n. ;  his  repentance  for,  29 — 

32,  Bilney. 
Absolution,  by  a  priest,  i.  339 — 41,  Thorpe  ; 

received  by  Hooker,  iii.  531  ;  by  Sander- 
son, iv.  480. 
Accidents  without  subject,  in  the  Eucharist, 

i.    186,   Wickliffe,  '  and    n. ;    299,    300, 

Thorpe. 
Ada    Sanctorum,   account    of;    See    Bol- 

landus. 
Admonition,    mutual    duty    of,    iv.    372, 

Hammond. 
Adrian,  Pope,  his  ambitious  designs,  i.  29, 

30,  Inett. 
Alban,  St.,  Wolsey's  two  interviews  with 

Henry  VIII.,  i.  580,  n.  Wolsey. 
Albigenses,  the,  i.  183—6,  Inett. 
Alesius,  Alexander,  ii.  250 — 60,  Cromwell; 

606,  Latimer. 
Alexander  III.  pope;  his  election;  schism 

thence  occasioned;  i.  29,  30,  Inett;  his 

treatment  of  the  emperor  Frederic,  47,  8, 

Inett;  70—3,  do. 
Alms,  gathering  of,  by  condemned  persons, 

going  to  execution,  ii.  40,  Bilney,  and  n. 

,  free ;  See  Eleemosynam. 

Altar,  and  Lord's  table,  ii.  349,  n.  Rogers ; 

605,  Latimer ;   654,  do. ;   Williams  and 

Laud,  iv.  259,  n.  Ferrar. 
Altars,    portable,    ii.    226,    7,    Cromwell, 

and  n. 
Anabaptists,  the ;  Ridley  opposed  them,  ii. 

629,  Latimer;  their  excesses,  iv.  510,  11, 

Baxter;  disturb  the  Church  service,  546, 

Hale. 

Anglican  Church ;  See  Church  Anglican. 
Angling,  love  of,  iv.  97,  8,  Wotton,  and  n. 
Anne  of  Bohemia,  wife  of  K.  Richard  II. 

i.  255,  6,  AVickliffe. 
Antichrist,  whether   the   Pope  is,   i.  407, 

Supplem.  Extracts. 

Antiquity,  value  of  in  religion,  iii.  17,  Rid- 
ley.    See  also,  Fathers. 
,  spurious  veneration  for,  how  to  be 

encountered,  i.  3 — 7>  Inett. 
Apology  for  the  Church  of  England,  bishop 


Jewel's,  occasion  of,  iii.  321,  Jewel ; 
value  of,  354—6,  do.;  Peter  Martyr's 
letter  respecting,  374. 

Appeals  to  Rome,  controversy  respecting,  i. 
40,  Inett,  and  n. ;  54—8,  do. ;  138,  9,  do. ; 
142,  do. ;  365,  6,  Cobham,  and  n. 

Armada,  Spanish,  activity  of  the  Puritans  at 
that  crisis  ;  iii.  595,  6,  Whitgift. 

Arminius  and  the  Arminians,  incidents 
respecting;  iv.  100,  1,  Wotton;  Mon- 
tague, Overall,  &c.  296—8,  Hall ;  altera- 
tion in  judgment  of  Sanderson,  Usher, 
Pierce,  Potter,  &c.  451 — 5,  Sanderson, 
and  n. 

Arms,  heraldic  lions  described,  i.  598,  9,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Arthur,  Thomas,  converted  by  Bilney,  ii.  3, 
Bilney :  examination  and  interrogatories, 
6—14,  do. 

Articles  of  the  Church  of  England,  enco- 
mium on;  iii.  91,  Ridley;  96,  do. 

Art.  VI.  On  the  sufficiency  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  iii.  44.  Ridley. 

XIV.  Of  works  of  supererogation,  ii. 

28,  Bilney;  521,  Latimer. 

XIX.  Of  the  Church ;  i.  63,  n.  Inett ; 

285,  n.  Thorpe ;  ii.  603,  4,  Latimer ;  iii. 
:;'>•  n.  Ridley. 

XX.  Of  the  authority  of  the  Church, 

i.  270,  Thorpe,  and  n.  ;  344,  do.  and  n. ; 
ii.  349,  50,  n.  Rogers ;  645,  6,  Latimer ; 
iii.  41,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  44,  do. 

XXI.  The  authority  of  general  coun- 
cils ;  iii.  43,  Ridley ;  46,  do. 

XXIII.  Of  ministering  in  the  con- 
gregation, ii.  41,  Bilney. 

XXIV.  Of  speaking  in  the  congrega- 
tion in  such  a  tongue  as  the  people  under- 
standeth,  i.  149,  Bentley,  and  n.  See  also 
Service  divine,  in  a  unknown  tongue. 

XXV.      Of  the   sacraments,   ii.   56, 

Latimer. 

XXVI.  Of  the  unworthiness  of  minis- 
ters, that  hinders  not  the  effect  of  the 
sacraments,  i.  215,  n.  Wickliffe;  ii.  35, 
Bilney;  514,  15,  Latimer. 

XXVIII.     Of  the  Lord's  Supper,  ii. 

563,  Latimer.     See  also  Eucharist,  the. 

XXXI.  Of  the  one  oblation  of  Christ, 

ii.  566,  Latimer.  See  also  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass. 

XXXII.     Of  the  marriage  of  priests 


728 


INDEX. 


ii.  317, 18,  Rogers,  and  n.  See  also  Mar- 
riages of  Priests,  &c. 
Art.  XXXVII.    Of  the  civil  magistrates  ; 

royal  supremacy,  ii.  309,  n.  Rogers;  lawful 

to  wear  weapons  and  to  serve  in  the  wars, 

i.  456,  7,  Colet,  and  n. 
XXXIX.    Of  a  Christian  man's  oath. 

i.  330,  Thorpe,  n.  See  also  Oaths,  whether 

lawful,  &c. 
Articles  of  1536,  account  of,  ii.  260,  1,  n. 

Cromwell.    See  Institution  of  a  Christian 

Man. 
1  the  six,  act  of,  account  of,  ii.  267, 

Cromwell,  and  n. ;  Cranmer' s  opposition 

to,  iii.  168—71,  Cranmer ;  189,  do. 
the  Lambeth,  account  of,  iii.  598,  9, 

n.  Whitgift. 
.    ...     five  of  Perth,  account  of,  iv.  294,  and 

n.  Hall. 

objected  against  Wickliffe,  i.  203—8, 


Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  214—16,  do.  and  n. ; 
against  Thorpe,  i.  281,  2,  Thorpe;  against 
lord  Cobham,  i.  356,  7,  Cobham ;  381—7, 
do. ;  against  dean  Colet,  i.  450—7,  Colet ; 
against  Wolsey,i.  595,  Wolsey ;  against  lord 
Cromwell,  ii.  287,  8,  Cromwell;  against 
John  Rogers,  ii.  328,  Rogers;  against 
bishop  Hooper,  ii.  379,  Hooper;  384,  5,  n. 
do. ;  against  Rowland  Taylor,  ii.  416—18, 
Taylor;  421,  2,  do. ;  against  bishop  Lati- 
mer,  ii.  479,  Latimer ;  525,  6,  do. ;  552, 
do. ;  635,  6,  do. ;  against  Cranmer,  iii. 
237—9 ;  against  Jewel,  iii.  338. 

Arundel,archbishop,his  constitutions,  i.256, 
Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  273—3,  Thorpe,  and 
n. ;  283 — 5,  do.  and  n. 

Ashton,  John,  a  Wickliffite,  account  of,  i. 
236,  Wickliffe;  280,  Thorpe. 

Assembly  of  divines  at  Westminster,  iv. 
341,  Hammond;  Sanderson  nominated  a 
member,  does  not  attend,  421,  Sanderson. 

Atheism  and  atheists,  iii.  490,  Hooker; 
548-^50,  do. ;  Mr.  Lilly,  iv.  276,  7,  Hall ; 
617,  Rochester;  625 — 9,  do. 

Atterbury,  bishop,  quoted  in  n. ;  i.  428,  Sup- 
plem.  Extracts;  character  of  Luther; 
scurrility  of  sir  Thomas  More,  ii.  74, 
More. 

Augustin,  St.,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  i. 
18,  19,  Inett,  and  n. 

Augustine,  St.,  Util.  Creed,  quoted  in  iii. 
15,  in  Ridley  cont.  Pet.  ii.  21,  n.  do. 

Authority  of  the  Church,  nature  and  inci- 
dents of;  Arundel's  constitutions,  i. 
272—4,  Thorpe;  280,  1,  do.  and  n. ; 
289,  90,  do.  and  n. ;  291,  2,  do.  and  n. ; 
298,  do.  and  n. ;  344,  do.  and  n. ;  371,  2, 
Cobham,  and  n. ;  376,  do. ;  382,  3,  do. ; 
394,  5,  do.  and  n.;  ii.  312,  13,  Rogers; 
634,  Latimer;  644,  5,  do.;  656,  7,  do. 
and  n. ;  iii.  24,  5,  Ridley;  99,  100,  n. 
Ridley.  See  also  Art.  XX. 

Avon,  river,  controversy  concerning  the, 
decided,  iii.  578,  n.  Whitgift. 

A  ylmer,  bishop,  quoted  in  n. ;  rise  of  Luther, 
i.  428,  Supplem.  Extracts. 


B. 


BACON,  Lord,  quoted  in  n. ;  Gondomar,  i. 
303,  4,  Thorpe;  the  Puritans  despise 
the  early  Reformers,  iii.  411,  Gilpin; 
mathematics,  iv.  533,  Hale;  the  great 
strangers  to  themselves,  564,  do. 

Bainham,  John,  Latimer's  visit  to,  in  New- 
gate, iii.  33-A  Ridley. 

Bale,  John,  his  character,  i.  353,  Cobham. 

Bancroft's,  archbishop,  books  against  the 
Puritans,  iii.  546,  Hooker;  590,  Whit- 
gift; 596,  do.  quoted  in  n. ;  the  Fa- 
thers slighted  by  the  Puritans,  iii.  411, 
Gilpin. 

Baptism,  doctrine,  and  incidents  of;  the 
element  of  Water,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
ii.  638,  Latimer;  639,  do.;  signs  exhi- 
bitive,  n.  648,  do. ;  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
iii.  52,  3,  Ridley;  transubstantiation  of 
the  water,  in,  ii.  638,  Latimer,  and  n. ; 
termed  volowing,  iii.  52,  n.  Ridley. 

Barlowe,  bishop  Wm.,  quoted  in  n. ;  Re- 
formers' wish  to  have  lay  persons  present 
at  their  examinations,  i.  275,  Thorpe; 
Master  Parson,  392,  Cobham ;  Wolsey's 
precedent  in  dissolving  monasteries,  ii. 
231,  Cromwell. 

Barnes,  Dr.  Robert,  quoted  in  n.  God's 
image,  i.  385,  Cobham ;  Wolsey's  three 
bishoprics,  480,  1,  Wolsey. 

Barristers,  whether  they  may  plead  in 
what  they  deem  unjust  causes,  ii.  56,  7, 
More,  and  n. ;  iv.  531,  Hale;  576,  do. 
and  n. 

Barrow,  Henry,  and  the  Barrowists,  iii. 
546,  7,  Hooker,  and  n. ;  596,  7,  Whitgift ; 
598,  do. 

,  Dr.  Isaac,  iv.  358,  n.  Hammond. 

quoted  in  n.  The  pope 

and  emperor,  the  two  great  lights,  i.  8, 
Inett. 

Battle,  trial  by,  i.  364,  n.  Cobham. 

Baxter,  Richard,  review  of  his  own  cha- 
racter, &c.  iv.  489—519;  Savoy  Confe- 
rence, 471,2,  Sanderson;  meetings  with 
Tillotson,  &c.  for  a  comprehension, 
688—91,  Tillotson;  his  Saints' Rest,  495, 
Baxter. 

Bayonne,  bishop  of,  and  Montmorency,  i. 
563—5,  Wolsey. 

Becket,  Thomas,  not  a  Becket,  i.  31,  n. ; 
Becket  and  K.  Henry  II.,  i.  29—58, 
Inett;  Becket's  shrine,  offerings  at,  i. 
368,  n.  Cobham. 

Becon,  Thomas,  quoted  in  n. ;  the  greater  and 
lesser  curse,  i.  219,  Wickliffe;  texts  of 
Scripture  in  houses  and  churches,  iv. 
204—6,  Ferrar. 

Bedell,  bishop,  chaplain  at  Venice  to  sir 
H.  Wotton,  iv.  88,  9,  Wotton;  103—6, 
do. 

Belayse  (Belusis),  Sir  W.,  iii.  379,  n. 
Gilpin. 

Bell,  book,  and  candle,  i.  219,  n.,  Wick- 
liffe. 

Bells,  baptizing  of,  iii.  339,  4(1,  Ji-wrl. 

Benefices,  patrons  of;  See  Patrons. 


INDEX. 


729 


Benefices,  reservation  of,  i.  135,  6,  Inett, 
and  n. ;  145,  6,  do.  and  n. ;  170,  Wick- 
liffe,  and  n. ;  193,  do.  and  n. ;  in  the 
hands  of  foreigners,  and  non-residents,  i. 
135,  6,  Inett,  and  n. ;  191—4,  Wickliffe, 
and  n. ;  483,  Wolsey,  and  n. 

,  impropriations   of;   See  Impro- 

priations. 

Bennett  and  Collett,  ii.  389,  Hooper, 
and  n. 

Bentley,  Dr.  Richard,  doctrinal  corruptions 
of  popery,  i.  147—63. 

Berengarius,  his  true  doctrine  of  the 
Eucharist,  iii.  16,  Ridley ;  18,  do. 

Bergen,  naval  attack  on,  Rochester's  letter 
concerning,  iv.  611,  12,  n.  Rochester. 

Bertram's  book  on  the  Eucharist,  ii.  583,  4, 
Latimer,  and  n. ;  588,  do. ;  668,  do.  and 
n. ;  iii.  18,  19,  Ridley,  and  n. 

Beza,  Theodore,  and  H.  Saravia,  iii.  523,  4, 
Hooker;  Beza  and  Whitgift,  606,  7, 
Whitgift. 

Bible,  in  English  (ancient),  Anne,  wife  of 
K.  Richard  II.  i.  255,  6,  Wickliffe ;  ii. 
196,  Tindall,  and  n. 

,  Wickliffe's  translation  of,  i.  256—8, 

Wickliffe  ;  act  against  (1414),  397,  Cob- 
ham. 

,   Tindall's,   ii.   196—9,   Tindall,   and 

n. ;  203—7,  do.  and  n. ;  299,  n.  Crom- 
well. 

,    Coverdale's,    ii.    199,    n.,    Tindall; 

297,  8,  Cromwell. 

,  Cranmer's,  ii.  298,  Cromwell. 

,  Mathews's,  ii.  299,  Cromwell. 

,  king  James's,  iv.  418,  Sanderson. 

,  Protestant,  Ward's  errata  of  the,  iii. 

383,  n.,  Gilpin. 

,  Erasmus's  translation  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament ;  See  Erasmus. 

Bilney,  Thomas,  Life,  ii.  1 — 42 ;  Bilney  and 
Latimer,  3,  do. 

Bishops'  book,  the  ;  See  Necessary  Doctrine. 

Bishops  and  bishoprics,  appointment,  pa- 
tronage, &c.  of,  i.  119—27,  Inett,  and 
n. ;  133,  do.;  134.  5,  do.;  kings  do  not 
make,  but  only  place,  i.  64,  5,  Inett ; 
124—6,  n.  do. 

,  elections  of,  by  deans  and  chapters ; 

See  Capitular  Elections. 

,   their  investiture,  i.   33 — 5,  Inett, 

and  n. ;  134,  5,  do. 

,   their  votes    in    parliament  taken 

away,  iv.  316,  17,  Hall. 

,  Cranmer's,  Bonner's,  &c.  commis- 
sions for,  from  K.  Henry  VIII.  ii.  296,  7, 
Cromwell,  and  n. ;  379,  80,  n.  Hooper. 

,   impeachment   of,  in   1640,  1,   iv. 

307,  n.  Hall. 

-,  bill  to  deprive  them  of  judicial  and 


civil  functions,  Hall's  speech  thereon,  iv. 
305—7,  n.  Hall ;  progress  of  the  bill,  307, 
do.  protestors  against,  309,  do. 
Blackstone,  sir  Wm.,  quoted  in  n. ;  Pro- 
visors,  statute  of,  i.  145,  Inett;  heresy, 
punishable  with  burning,  by  common  law 
of  England,  222,  n.  Wickliffe;  heresy, 
what,  225,  6,  n.  do. ;  heretics,  burning  of, 
ii.  331,  n.  Rogers. 


Blessing  of  children,  by  their  parents,  ii.  73, 
More,  and  n. ;  iv.  182,  Ferrar;  189,  90, 
do.  and  n. 

Blood  of  Hailes  ;  See  Hailes. 

Blunt,  Rev.  I.  J.,  his  history  of  the  Re- 
formation, commended,  i.  34,  n.  Inett. 

Boleyn ,  Anne,  i .  498—500,  Wolsey ;  T indal  1's 
Obedience  of  a  Christian,  lady  Anne,  and 
Mr.  Zouch,  ii.  199—201,  Tindall,  and  n. 
Anne,  Henry  Vlllth's  passion  for, 


i.  500,  n.  Wolsey. 

Bollandus's  Ada  Sanctorum,  account  of,  iv. 
528,  n.  Hale. 

Bonner,  bishop ;  Wolsey's  cross  falls  on  his 
head,  i.  636,  Wolsey;  made  bishop  of 
London,  ii.  295,  Cromwell ;  Bonner's  mo- 
ther and  Ridley,  iii.  6—8,  Ridley;  Bon- 
ner and  Cranmer,  253,  4,  Cranmer;  his 
injunctions,  quoted  in  n.  ii.  191,  Tindall. 

Books,  dearness,  scarcity,  &c.  of,  i.  409 — 11, 
Supplementary  Extracts,  and  n. ;  Refor- 
mers', seizure,  &c.  of,  i.  418,  19,  Supple- 
mentary Extracts,  and  n. ;  by  order  of 
Wolsey,  663,  Wolsey;  Wickliffe's,  227, 
8,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  253,  n.  do. ;  Arun- 
del's  constitution  against,  256,  do.,  and  n. ; 
356,  Cobham. 

Boston,  town  of,  their  pardons,  ii.  223 — 9, 
Cromwell. 

Boyle,  Hon.  Robert,  and  Sanderson,  iv.  468, 
Sanderson  ;  486,  7,  do. 

Bradford,  John,  the  martyr,  ii.  420,  421, 
Taylor ;  Free-will-men,  Bradford,  and 
Ridley,  iii.  65—7,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  his 
restitution,  after  hearing  Latimer  preach, 
ii.  543,  n.  Latimer. 

Bridges  (Bruges),  Thomas  of,  some  account 
of,  iii.  15,  n.  Ridley. 

Bristowe's  motives  to  the  Catholic  faith, 
quoted  in  n. ;  the  primitive  ages  much 
more  devout  than  the  modern,  and  how? 
i.  153,  Bentley;  Papists,  when  leave  off 
frequenting  the  Protestant  service,  iii. 
325 — 7,  Jewel ;  Golden  Legend,  miracles, 
&c.  426,  7,  Gilpin. 

British  Church ;  See  Church,  British. 

Broughton,  Hugh,  iii.  434,  5,  Gilpin. 

Browne,  Robert,  and  the  Brownists,  iii. 

546 50,  Hooker,  and  n. ;  598,  Whitgift ; 

returns  to  the  Church  of  England,  599, 
600,  do.  and  n. 

Bryan,  le  county,  notice  of,  i.  526,  n.  Wolsey. 

,  (papal,)  origin  of  the  term,  i.  553,  n. 

Wolsey. 

of  P.  Pius  V.  against  Q.  Elizabeth,  iii. 

324—8,  Jewel,  and  n. 

Bull,  bishop,  his  variations  introduced  in 
using  the  Liturgy,  iv.  446 — 8,  Sanderson, 
and  n. 

Bulleine,  sir  Thos.,  his  dignities,  i.  498,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Burghley,  lord ;  See  Cecil. 

Buridan's  ass,  iv.  391,  Hammond,  and  n. 

Burke,  quoted  in  n. ;  investiture  of  bishops, 
i.  33,  4,  Inett. 

Burnet,  bishop,  quoted  in  n.  More,  sir 
Thomas,  had  little  learning,  ii.  92, 3,  More ; 
determined  cruelties  of  Q.  Mary's  govern- 
ment, 418—20,  Taylor;  iii.  310,  Moun- 


730 


INDEX. 


Uiin ;    Bui-net's,  &c.   scheme   for  a    new 
book  of  Homilies,  iv.  462 — 4,  Sanderson. 
Butlers  and  Boleyns,  disputes  between  these 
families,  i.  50,  n.  Wolsey. 


C. 


CALVIN,  John,  and  Calvinism ;  Calvin,  and 
the  Interim,  iii.  23,  4,  Ridley ;  troubles 
at  Frankfort,  84,  n.  do. ;  vast  influence 
of,  iii.  411,  n.  Gilpin  ;  iv.  422,  Sanderson  ; 
God's  will,  antecedent  and  consequent, 
iii.  472,  3,  Hooker,  and  n. ;  Calvinism, 
doctrinal  and  disciplinarian,  521 ,  n.  do. ; 
Hooker  taxed  with  hostility  to  Calvin, 
520 — 3,  n.  do. ;  Luther  and  Calvin  are 
but  men,  iv.  334,  n.  Hammond ;  the  five 
points,  422,  Sanderson  ;  Hooker,  Calvin, 
and  Sanderson;  sublapsarian  and  supra- 
lapsarian  way,  481,  do. ;  Calvin's  Insti- 
tutes, 430,  I,  do.  See  also  Predestina- 
rian  Controversy. 

Camden,  quoted  in  n.  Sir  Thomas  More, 
anecdotes  of,  ii.  112,  More. 

Campaigne,  cardinal,  his  duplicity,  i.  554,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Canaanites,  destruction  of  the,  iv.  631,  Ro- 
chester; 635,  6,  do. 

Canon  Law,  general  account  of,  i.  128 — 30, 
n.  Inett;  obligation  of,  on  the  realm  of 
England,  394,  Cobham ;  opposed  to  and 
elevated  above  the  Scriptures,  ii.  193, 
Tindall,  and  n. ;  and  law  of  England, 
contradictory,  iii.  218 — 26,  Cranmer ;  221, 
2,  do. 

Canons,  secular,  i.  119,  20,  n.  Inett. 

Cap,  ceremony  of  putting  off  the,  on  receiv- 
ing letters,  i.  303,  4.  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  at 
passing  sentence  on  criminals,  387,  Cob- 
ham,  and  n. ;  in  veneration  of  the  ele- 
ments in  the  Eucharist,  ii.  321,  2,  Ro- 
gers, and  n. 

Capitular  elections,  i.  36,  Inett,  and  n. ; 
100—3,  do. ;  118—24,  do.,  and  n. 

Card  Sermon,  Latimer' s ;  See  Sermons. 

Cardinals,  mischief  done  by,  wherever  they 
come,  i.  570,  Wolsey,  and  n. 

Carleton,  bishop,  his  life  of  Gilpin,  iii.  375 
—440. 

Cartwright,  Thomas,  and  subscription  to 
the  39  Articles,  iii.  357,  8,  Jewel ;  Cart- 
wright  and  Gilpin,  410,  Gilpin ;  Cart- 
wright  and  Whitgift,  498 — 501,  Hooker; 
general  account  of,  567—74,  Whitgift; 
inclines  to  return  to  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, 597,  8,  Whitgift ;  599—601,  ditto, 
and  n. 

Casaubon,  Isaac,  quoted  in  n.,  de  Libertate 
Ecclesiastica,  i.  49,  Inett. 

Catechizing,  importance,  usefulness.  &c.  of. 
Usher's  method,  i.  438,  9,  n.  Colet ;  iii. 
53,  Ridley ;  K.  James's  directions  for, 
661,  2,  Donne,  and  n. ;  diligence  in,  iv. 
38,  9,  Herbert;  41,  do.;  338-^40,  Ham- 
mond, and  n. ;  497,  Baxter ;  neglect  of, 
during  the  usurpation,  iv.  340,  n.  Ham- 
mond. 


Catechism  of  K.  Edward  VI.,  iii.  194,  a. 
Cranmer. 

,  Cranmer's  Short  Instruction,  ii. 

422,  n.  Taylor. 

,  Hammond's  Practical,  iv.  343,  4, 

Hammond. 

"  Catholic,  the,"  title  of,  iii.  216,  n.  Cran- 
mer. 

Cecil,  lord  Burghley,  letter  of  rebuke  to, 
from  Cranmer,  iii.  160,  n.  Cranmer. 

Celibacy,  vows  of,  iv.  255,  Ferrar,  and 
n. 

Challenges  to  the  Papists,  Jewel's,  iii.  350, 1, 
Jewel ;  Montague's,  351,  2,  n.  do. ;  Bar- 
low's, 352,  n.  do. 

Chastity,  vow  of,  iv.  255,  n.  Ferrar. 

Chastillion,  lord,  aids  the  Lutherans,  iii.  42, 
n.  Ridley. 

Charles  I.,  K.,  his  Icon  Basilike,  iv.  449, 
Sanderson;  at  Little  Gidding,  1633,  iv. 
198,  9,  Ferrar;  in  1646,  202 — 4,  do. ;  in 
1642,  243—6,  do. ;  K.  Charles  and  the 
Ferrar  Harmonies,  1631,  221—39,  do. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  and  John  Gower,  in- 
fluence of  in  the  Reformation,  i.  414—16, 
Supplementary  Extracts. 

,  quoted  in  n. ;  pilgrims  to  Canter- 
bury, i.  311,  12,  Thorpe. 

Cheke,  sir  John,  quoted  in  n. ;  hard  case 
of  the  married  clergy  under  Q.  Mary,  ii. 
317,  Rogers  ;  apostasy  lamentable  of  both 
houses  of  parliament  under  Q.  Mary,  iii. 
115— 17,  n.  Ridley. 

Cholmley,  sir  Roger,  notice  of,  iii.  23,  4,  n. 
Ridley. 

Christ's  real  presence  in  the  Eucharist ;  See 
Presence,  real. 

Christmas-day,  debates  respecting  its  ob- 
servance, iv.  37,  8,  Herbert,  and  n. ;  its 
observance  by  sir  Matthew  Hale,  566,  7, 
Hale. 

Christopherson,  bishop,  quoted  in  n. ;  divine 
service  in  an  unknown  tongue,  i.  149,  50, 
Bentley;  Thou,  Lord,  hast  deceived  us, 
288,  9.  Thorpe ;  Christ's  cross,  386,  Cob- 
ham  ;  babbling  sir  Johns,  392,  do. ;  The 
Lord,  our  Lord,  ii.  83,  More;  ministers, 
not  priests,  ii.  599,  600,  Latimer ;  portraits 
of  K.  Edward  VI.,  iii.  13,  14,  Ridley ; 
insubordination  of  Protestant  children, 
servants,  &c.  562—4,  n.  Whitgift;  the 
king's  arms  in  churches,  233,  Cranmer; 
prayer  in  an  unknown  tongue,  better  than 
in  a  known,  94 — 6,  Ridley. 

Church,  the,  nature  and  incidents  of,  i. 
268—71,  Thorpe  ;  militant  and  triumph- 
ant, 292,  3,  do. ;  threefold  division  of, 
361—3,  Cobham,  and  n. ;  377,  8,  do. ; 
marks  of,  iii.  36,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  pros- 
perity, no  mark  of,  ii.  333,  4,  Rogers ; 
339—47,  do.;  visible  and  invisible,  i. 
269,  70,  n.  Thorpe ;  iii.  38,  Ridley ;  visi- 
bility and  perpetuity  of;  Usher,  Abbot, 
&c.  iv.  299— 301,  Hall,  and  n.;  infallibility 
alleged,  i.  155,  Bentley;  269,  70,  Thorpe, 
and  n.;  ii.  603,  4,  Latimer;  iii.  33—7, 
Ridley  ;  unity  of,  ii.  555,  Latimer. 

Church  and  state,  one  body,  i.  244,  Wick- 
liffc. 


INDEX. 


731 


Churches,  national,  i.  59—76,  Inett ;  122  3 

n.  do.;   133,  do. ;  137,  do. 
Church,  a  parliamentary,  i.  21,  Inett;  iv. 

678,  9,  Tillotson. 
,  to  believe  the,  and  to  believe  in  the, 

i.  376,  7,  Cobham,  and  n. 

establishments,  uses,  &c.  of,  i.  60, 


Inett ;  62—9,  do. ;   122—4,  n.  do.' 

,  the,  its  independence,  limits,  &c.  of, 

i.  64—79,  Inett. 

music,  organs,  &c.  i.  313 — 16,  Thorpe, 


and  n. ;  Donne,  at  St.  Paul's,  iii.  666, 
Donne;  cathedral,  &c.  music,  iv.  12,  13, 
Herbert ;  40,  do. 

property,  conditional,  i.  207, 8,  Wick- 

liffe,  and  n. 

,  designs  against;    spoliation, 

&c.  of,  i.  160,  1,  Bentley;  601—603, 
Wolsey ;  Ridley's  resistance  to,  iii.  83,  4, 
Ridley,  and  n. ;  Cranmer's  and  Ridley's, 
n.  147,  8,  Cranmer;  158—161,  Cranmer, 
and  n. ;  Solvat  Ecdesia,  370,  1,  Jewel, 
and  n. ;  389—91,  Gilpin,  and  n. ;  Whit- 
gift,  E.  of  Leicester,  and  Q.  Elizabeth,  393 
— 7,  Hooker,  and  n.  See  al so  Monasteries, 
dissolution  of. 

concealments,  iv.  289,  90,  Hall,  and 


n.     See  also  Sacrilege. 
,  restitution  of,  iv.  185 — 7,  Fer- 

rar,  and  n.    See  also  Impropriations  First- 
fruits. 
Church,   the   British ;    no   dependence    on 

Rome,  i.  4,  5,  Inett ;  18,  19,  do.  and  n. ; 

132,  do. 
Church,  the  Anglican,  i.  4—28,  Inett;  132 

—46,  do. 
,  the  Gallican,  i.  9,  Inett;  11,   12, 

do;  iii.  130,  Cranmer. 

-  of  England,  its  moderation,  iv.  693, 4, 


Tillotson. 

-  of  Rome,  appeals  to  ;  See  Appeals. 
,  whether  a  true  Church,  iii. 


510,  Hooker  ;  515,  do.  ;  iv.  300,  n.  Hall. 
-,  its  alleged  infallibility,  i. 


155,  Bentley;  269,  70,  Thorpe,  and  n. ; 
ii.  603,  4,  Latimer,  and  n. 
,   its    usurped   power  may 


lawfully  be  cast  off,  i.  24,  5,  Inett,  and  n. ; 
iii.  219 — 21,  Cranmer,  and  n. 

schisms  in,  i.   29,  Inett, 


and   n.;    123, 'do.;    209— ll,'  Wickliffe.' 

and  n.  See  also  Popery. 
Civil  Law  ;  See  Law,  Civil. 
Clarendon,  statutes  of,  i.  51,  2,  Inett, 

and  n. 
Clergy,  exemption  of,  from  civil  jurisdiction, 

i.   36—58,   Inett,  and  n.;   59—76,  do., 

and  n. ;  142,  3,  do. ;  Venice  and  Father 

Paul,  iv.  87,  8,  Wotton. 
,   maintenance   of,   iv.   643,   4,   Ro- 
chester. 
,  pomp,  luxury,  &c.  of,  i.  491,  2, 

Wolsey,  and  n.  ;   493,  do.,  and  n. ;   ii. 

3,  4,  Bilney,  and  n. 
,  of  noble  families,  expediency  of,  iv. 

19,  Herbert,  and  n. 
,  not  to  preach  without  licence  of  the 


bishop,  i.  283—92,  Thorpe,  and  n. 
,  unlawful  commands  of,  whether  to 


be  obeyed,  i.  288—90,  Thorpe,  and  n  • 
333,  do.,  and  n.;  iii.  112,  n.  Ridley. 

Clergy,  under  popery,  are  but  half  the  king's 
subjects,  ii.  233,  Cromwell,  and  n. 

,  ignorance  of,  i.  173,  Wick- 
liffe, and  n. ;  ii.  191,  2,  Tindall,  and  n. ; 
iii.  95,  6,  n.  Ridley;  153,  4,  Cranmer, 
andn. 

marriages ;  See  Marriapes  of  Priests. 

,  pecuniary  exactions  from,  by  the 

popes,  i.  135,  6,  Inett,  and  n. ;    143,  4 
do.;  192— 4,  n.  Wickliffe. 

Clinton,  lady,  the  "  fair  Geraldine  "  of  lord 
Surrey,  iii.  12,  n.  Ridley. 

Cobham,  lord,  Life,  &c.  of,  i.  351—402. 

Coke,  lord  chief  justice,  quoted  in  n. ; 
the  three  estates,  iv.  310,  n.  Hall. 

Cole,  Dr.  Henry,  sermon  at  Cranmer's 
martyrdom,  iii.  271 — 4. 

Colet,  dean,  Life,  &c.  of,  i.  433 — 57.  Ex- 
tract from  his  Convocation  Sermon,  451 
—455,  do. 

Collects  in  the  Church  service,  beauty,  &c. 
of,  iv.  460,  Sanderson. 

Combat,  trial  by,  i.  364,  n.  Cobham. 

Commandment,  the  second,  omission  of  in 
popish  catechisms,  &c.  ii.  17,  n.  Bilney. 

Committee  for  scandalous  ministers,  iv. 
443,  Sanderson. 

Common-place  books ;  Ridley's,  ii.  578, 
Latimer,  and  n. ;  Jewel's,  iii.  362,  Jewel ; 
Donne's,  689,  Donne. 

Communion  in  both  kinds ;  See  Cup  in  the 
Eucharist. 

Communion,  monthly,  iv.  336,  7?  Ham- 
mond. 

Compostella,  St.  James  at,  pilgrimage  to,  i. 
175,  Wickliffe. 

Comprehension  of  dissenters,  projects  for,  i. 
162,  Bentley ;  lord  keeper  Bridgman's, 
iv.  553,  4,  Hale,  and  n. ;  Tillotson, 
Stillingfleet,  Baxter,  &c.  in  1675, 687—91, 
Tillotson;  in  1689,  696—710,  do. 

Concealments  of  church -lands,  iv.  289,  90, 
Hall,  and  n. 

Concomitancy  in  the  Eucharist,  ii.  214,  Tin- 
dall, and  n. ;  577,  Latimer  ;  633,  4,  do. ; 
iii.  168,  Cranmer ;  247,  do ,-  398,  9,  Gil- 
pin,  and  n. 

Concubinary  priests;  See  Marriages  of 
Priests. 

Confession,  private,  to  a  priest,  i.  338 — 41, 
Thorpe;  369,  Cobham;  371,  do.;  449, 
Colet,  and  n. ;  Bilney  and  Latimer,  ii. 
30,  Bilney;  often  deferred  for  many 
years,  264,  n.  Cromwell;  Latimer  was 
Bilney's  confessor,  499,  Latimer;  how 
far  approved  of  in  the  Church  of  England, 
iii.  73,  4,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  abuses  of,  ii. 
224,  5,  Cromwell,  and  n. 

Confessions  of  faith ;  Wickliffe's,  i.  239—41, 
Wickliffe;  Thorpe's,  265—71,  Thorpe; 
lord  Cobham's,  360—4,  Cobham. 

Constance,  Council  of,  i.  248—50,  Wick- 
liffe ;  John  Huss,  &c.  406,  7,  Supplem. 
Extracts. 

Constantino's  dotation,  venom  to  the  Church, 
i.  249,  Cobham,  and  n. 

Controversialists,  Protestant,  adduce  their 


732 


INDEX. 


adversaries'  arguments  at  full  length,  ii. 
103,  4,  More. 

Conventicles,  proceedings  for  suppression 
of,  iv.  685—8,  Tillotson. 

Convocation  and  Parliament,  conjoint  duties 
of,  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  iv.  677,  8,  Til- 
lotson. 

of  1536,  its  proceedings,  ii.  249—61, 

Cromwell. 

of  1689,  iv.  679—83,  Tillotson. 

Cosin's,  Dr.,  Conspiracy  for  a  pretended  Re- 
formation, account  of,  iii.  591,  Whitgift. 

Cotton's  Abridgment  of  Records,  quoted  in 
n. ;  papal  exactions  from  the  clergy,  i. 
192-14,  n.  Wickliffe. 

Councils,  general,  the  clergy  convened  to, 
by  emperors,  kings,  &c.  i.  19,  20,  Inett; 
20,  1,  do.;  nature  and  incidents  of,  iii. 
43- — 8,  Ridley  ;  may  err,  and  have  erred, 
46 — 8,  do. ;  whether  they  are  above  the 
Pope,  ii.  516,  17,  Latimer;  250,  Crom- 
well ;  have  been  discontinued  since  the 
Reformation,  ii.  663,  n.  Latimer. 

Council  of  Tours,  i.  30,  Inett ;  32,  do. 

Clarendon,  i.  51, 2,  Inett ;  57.  do. 

Avignon,  i.  77,  Inett. 

,  4th  Lateran,  i.  111—16,  Inett. 

of  Trent,  iii.  414,  Gilpin ;  102,  n. 

Ridley.     See  also  Faith,  rule  of. 

Covenant,  solemn  league  and,  iv.  308,  Hall ; 
433,  Sanderson ;  Oxford  reasons  against, 
438,  9,  do.  and  n. 

Coverdale's  Martyrs'  Letters;  See  Martyrs, 
Letters  of. 

Cowl,  St.  Francis's,  burial  in ;  See  Fran- 
cis, St. 

Cranmer,  archbishop,  Life,  &c.  iii.  129 — 
281 ;  speech  in  convocation,  1537,  ii. 
252,  3,  Cromwell;  noble  resistances  to 
K.  Henry  VIII.  ii.  285,  6,  n.  Cromwell ; 
his  poverty,  iii.  160,  and  n.  Cranmer; 
his  opposition  to  the  act  of  six  Articles, 
iii.  168 — 71,  Cranmer;  his  pre-eminent 
services  in  the  Reformation,  195 — 7,  do. 
and  n. ;  whether  ever  a  Lutheran  in  the 
doctrine  of  consubstantiation,  234,  5, 
Cranmer,  and  n. ;  enlightened  by  Ridley 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  Eucharist,  192,  3, 
Cranmer,  and  n. ;  his  book  on  the 
Eucharist,  20,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  his  and 
Ridley's,  &c.  disputations  at  Oxford,  ii. 
548—616,  Latimer. 

1 ,  quoted  in  n. ;  reading 

the  Bible  in  churches,  during  the  Church 
service,  iii.  564,  Whitgift. 

Cranmer's,  George,  letter  to  Hooker,  iii. 
540—3,  Hooker. 

Cromwell,  lord,  Life,  &c.  ii.  219—302; 
Wolsey's  servant,  i.  588—93,  Wolsey; 
606—10,  do. ;  614—16,  do. ;  ii.  286,  7, 
Cromwell,  and  n. 

,  Oliver,  declaration  of  restraint, 

&c.  against  the  episcopal  clergy  (1655), 
iv.  356,  7,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  Baxter  and 
Cromwell,  491,  Baxter;  Cromwell  and 
sir  Matthew  Hale,  543—46,  Hale. 

Cross  of  Christ,  reliques,  worship,  &c.  of,  i. 
176— 8,  Wickliffe  ;  383— 6,  Cobham,  and 
n. ;  588,  Wolsey. 


Cross,  St. Paul's, sermons  at;  Shunammitu's 
house,  &c. ;  iii.  471,  2,  Hooker,  and  n. 

Croydon,  Whitgift's  hospital  at,  iii.  497,  8, 
Hooker;  623,  Whitgift. 

Crusade,  nature  and  incidents  of,  i.  78,  Inett, 
and  n. ;  against  England,  87 — 91,  do. ;  K. 
John,  105,  do. ;  151—3,  Bentley ;  176—9, 
Wickliffe ;  383,  4,  n.  Cobham. 

Cup  in  the  Eucharist,  denial  of  to  the  laity, 
i.  159,  Bentley;  ii.  563,  Latimer ;  633,4, 
do.;  iii.  93,  n.  Ridley;  225,  Cranmer; 
246—8,  do. 

Curse,  the  greater  and  the  less,  i.  218—21, 
Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  318,  Thorpe,  and  n. 


DANCE  of  Death,  i.  473,  n.  Wolsey. 
Danvers,  sir  John,  a  Parliamentarian,  some 

account  of,  iv.  8,  n.  Herbert. 
Day,  bishop,  case  of,  ii.  349,  n.  Rogers. 
,  methods  of  passing  the ;  bishop  Hall's, 

iv.  291,  2,  n.  Hall ;  sir  Matthew  Kale's, 

538,  9,  Hale. 

Dead,  prayer  for  the ;  See  Prayer. 
Deadly    feuds,   iii.    89,   Ridley;    407,    n. 

Gilpin ;  578,  Whitgift. 
Death,  presages  of,  iv.  615,  16,  Rochester. 
Death-bed  Scenes  and  Pastoral  Conversa- 
tions, commended,  iv.  674,  n.  Rochester. 
Decretals,  the  publication,  &c.  of.  i.  128— 

30,  n.  Inett. 
Defender  of  the  faith,  king's  title,  ii.  478, 

Latimer,  and  n. ;  iii.  216,  Cranmer,  and  n. 
,  Leo  X.'s  bull  to 

Henry  VIII.   preserved   in   the    British 

Museum,  iii.  2l6,  n.  Cranmer. 
Degrading  from  ecclesiastical  orders,  forms 

of,  ii.  38,  Bilney ;  40,  do,  and  n. ;  389, 

90,  Hooper;  430,  Taylor,  and  n.;  665— 

8,  Latimer;  iii.  253 — 5,  Cranmer;   261, 

do. 
Devotions,  private,  fixed  place  for,  iv.  113, 

Wotton,  and  n. 

Digest,  Irish ;  See  Frisk  Digest. 
Dinner,  hour  of,  i.  631,  Wolsey,  and  n. 
Diplomatic   intercourse  with    France    and 

Spain,  iv.  n.  Wotton;  with  Venice,  84, 

do. 

Dirge,  a  corruption  ofdirige,  ii.  66,  n.  More. 
Discipline  of  the  body,  with  a  whip,  &c.  ii. 

67,  More,  and  n. ;  222,  do. 
Disciplinarian    controversy,    iii.    410 — 12, 

Gilpin;  485-91,  Hooker,  and  n.     See 

also  Puritanism. 
Dispensing  power,  the  pope's  claim  of,  iii. 

140,  Cranmer;  216,  do.  and  n.;  248,  do. 

and  n. 
Dissenters,  comprehension  of,  projects  for; 

See  Comprehension. 
Divinity  studies,  method  of,  prescribed  by 

K.  James,   iii.  661,  2,   Donne,  and   n. ; 

iv.  334,  Hammond,  and  n. ;    422,  San- 
derson. 
Divorce,  doctrine,   lawfulness,   &c.   of,    ii. 

459,  Hooper,  and  n. ;  iv.  642,  Rochester. 
of  K.   Henry  VIII.  i.  551—572, 


INDEX. 


733 


Wolsey;  ii.  122—33,  More;  iii.  134— 
41,  Cranmer. 

Doctors  of  the  Church,  the  four  great,  i.  255, 
Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  ii.  455,  Latimer. 

Dominion,  whether  founded  in  grace,  i.  204, 
n.  Wickliffe. 

Dominis,  Marc.  Ant.  de,  archbishop  of  Spa- 
lato,  iv.  93,  4,  Wotton,  and  n. 

Donne,  Dr.  John,  Life,  &c.  iii.  631—83. 

Dorset,  marquess,  some  account  of,  i.  466, 
n.  Wolsey. 

Dort,  synod  of,  iv.  295,  6,  Hall,  and  n. 

Dowling's  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Ec- 
clesiastical History,  commended,  iv.  527, 
n.  Hale. 

Dream  of  sir  Thomas  More's  mother,  ii. 
49,  More ;  of  Dr.  Nicholas  Wotton,  iv. 
74,  5,  Wotton  ;  of  bishop  Hall's  mother, 
270,  Hall ;  Dr.  Hammond's,  342,  Ham- 
mond ;  dream,  or  vision,  of  Dr.  Donne, 
iii.  648 — 51,  Donne. 

Duty,  Whole,  of  Man ;  See  Man. 


E. 


EDUCATION  in  great  houses  of  young  per- 
sons of  rank,  i.  484,  n.  Wolsey. 

Edward  VI.,  K.,  to  be  obeyed  in  his  mino- 
rity, iii.  13, 14,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  founds  the 
royal  hospitals,  109,  10,  do.  and  n. ;  be- 
queaths the  succession  to  lady  Jane  Gray, 
198,  Cranmer,  and  n. ;  description  of,  at 
his  accession,  200,  n.  do. 

Eleemosynam,  in  liberam  et  puram,  i.  317, 
n.  Thorpe  ;  319,  do.  and  n. ;  328,  9,  n.  do. 

Elizabeth,  Q.,  proceedings  in  religion  at 
her  accession,  iii.  346 — 9,  Jewel;  her 
death,  611,  12,  Whitgift. 

,  Jewel's  description  of  her  ex- 
communication, iv.  81,  n.  Wotton. 

Ellis,  the  Rev.  Clement,  iv.  358,  n.  Ham- 
mond. 

Elopement,  the  earl  of  Rochester's  with 
Mrs.  Mallet,  iv.  610,  n.  Rochester;  his 
marriage  with  her,  iv.  612,  13,  n.  do. 

Ember  weeks,  what?  i.  299,  n.  Thorpe; 
observance  of,  iii.  526,  Hooker;  iv.  38, 
Herbert. 

England,  monarchy  of;  See  Monarchy. 

,  under  Q.  Mary  and  K.  Edward 

VI.,  compared,  iii.  90 — 7. 

. ,  custom  in,  of  saluting  females,  i. 

533,  Wolsey,  and  n. 

Enmore,  Somerset,  some  account  of,  iv. 
646,  n.  Rochester. 

Episcopacy,  bishop  Hall's  defence  of,  iv. 
315,  16,  Hall;  petitions  for  and  against, 
307,  8.  do. ;  bishops'  votes  in  parliament, 
defended  in  a  speech  by  bishop  Hall, 
305 7,  Hall,  n. ;  episcopacy  not  preju- 
dicial to  regal  authority,  440,  Sanderson ; 
K.  Charles  the  First's  grief  and  repentance 
for  abolition  of  in  Scotland,  426,  do. 

Erasmus,  his  translation  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, effects  of,  ii.  26,  Bilney ;  229,  30, 
Cromwell ;  Jewel  studies  Erasmus's 
writings,  iii.  334,  Jewel,  and  n.;  Gilpin 


very  conversant  in  Erasmus's  writings, 
382,  Gilpin. 

Erastianism,  i.  120,  n.  Inett. 

Estates  in  England,  the  three,  iv.  310,  n. 
Hall. 

Eucharist,  the,  doctrine  and  incidents  of; 
statements  by  Ridley  of  the  grand  points 
in  that  controversy,  ii.  549—51,  n.  Lati- 
mer; by  Hooker,  i.  295 — 7,  Thorpe;  acci- 
dents without  subject,  i.  186,  Wickliffe, 
and  n. ;  Oxford  decree  for  transubstantia- 
tion,  i.  211,  12,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  does 
material  bread  remain  after  consecration  ? 
i.  186,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  293—301, 
Thorpe,  and  n. ;  369,  Cobham ;  371,  do. ; 
374 — 6,  do. ;  outward  worship,  in  refer- 
ence to,  ii.  321.  2,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  re- 
serve respecting  propounding  the  true  doc- 
trine of,  i.  229,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  294,  5, 
Thorpe,  and  n. ;  ii.  203,  Tindall ;  214—18, 
do. ;  vast  importance  of  this  controversy, 
ii.  583,  4,  Latimer,  and  n.;  iii.  65,  6, 
Ridley,  and  n.  See  also  Lord's  Supper, 
Communions,  monthly,  Concomitancy, 
Transubstantiation,  Presence,  the  real. 

Euston,  (Easton  Neston),  near  Towcester, 
historical  associations  of,  i.  578,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Evelyn's  Memoirs,  quoted  in  n. ;  catechizing, 
neglect  of,  iv.  340,  n.  Hammond. 

Excommunication,  the  greater  and  less,  i. 
218—21,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  318,  Thorpe, 
and  n. ;  iv.  86,  7,  Wotton. 

Exiles  under  Q.  Mary,  at  Frankfort,  iii. 
78,  9,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  341—3,  Jewel ;  at 
Zurich,  344,  do. 

Extemporary  prayer  ;  See  Prayer. 

preaching ;  See  Preaching. 

Eye,  lecture  on  the,  sir  H.  Wotton's,  iv. 
73,  4,  Wotton. 


F. 


FAGGOT,  bearing  of,  branding  with  a,  &c. 

i.  423,  4,  Supplem.  Extracts. 
Faith,  rule  of,  in  the  council  of  Trent,  iii. 

102,  n.  Ridley;  385—7,  Gilpin,  and  n. ; 

388,  9,  do. ;  423,  do. 

5  implicit,  i.  142,  Thorpe,  and  n. 

,  justification  by ;  See  Justification. 

Fall    of   man,    iv.    631,    Rochester;    634, 

do. 

Fanshaw,  Mr.,  the  earl  of  Rochester's  death- 
bed advice  to,  iv.  671,  2,  Rochester. 
falsely  reports  that   the   earl  of 

Rochester  is  mad,  iv.  672,  3,  do. 
Fate,   doctrine   of;   Dr.   Henry  More,   iv. 

332,  3,  n.  Hammond. 
Fathers,  the,  authority  of,  esteem  for,  &c.  i. 

270,  n.  Thorpe ;  iii.  397,  8,  Gilpin ;  vary 

in   many  points  one  among  another,  ii. 

256,  Cromwell ;  605,  Latimer  ;  none,  but 

have  erred  in  some  things,  iii.  23,  Ridley; 

84,  5,  n.  do.;  slighted  by  the  Puritans, 

411,  n.  Gilpin. 
Fee-farming,  iv.  288,  9,  n.  Hall. 


734 


INDEX. 


Females,  custom  in  England  of  saluting,  i. 
533,  Wolsey,  and  n. 

Fermor,  interesting  account  of,  iii.  262,  n. 

Ferrar,  Nicholas,  his  Life,  &c.  iv.  117—264; 
character,  &c.  iv.  43,  7,  Herbert. 

,  jun.  iv.  217 — 42.  Ferrar. 

Festival,  Golden  Legend,  &c.  read  in 
churches,  &c.  to  the  neglect  of  the 
Scriptures,  iii.  426,  7,  Gilpin,  and  n. 

,  quoted  in  n.  Lent,  i.  175,  6, 

Wickliffe ;  rowning,  348,  Thorpe ;  lights, 
burning  of,  before  images,  ii.  18,  19, 
Bilney. 

Feuds,  deadly ;  See  Deadly  Feuds. 

Field,  Dr.  Richard,  iii.  449,  Hooker;  the 
five  points,  iv.  101,  n.  Wotton. 

Fiend,  the,  loosing  of;  See  Satan. 

Firmin,  Mr.  Thomas,  account  of,  iv.  683 — 5, 
Tillotson. 

First-fruits ;  Gilpin  hopes  the  crown  will 
relinquish  them,  iii.  390,  1,  n.  Gilpin; 
480,  Hooker,  and  n. 

Fish,  Simon,  his  supplication  of  the  beggars, 
ii.  91,  More;  201,  2,  Tindall. 

Fisher,  bishop,  his  opinion  that  reformation 
is  necessary,  i.  426,  n.  SuppLem.  Ex- 
tracts ;  his  character,  sufferings,  &c.  ii. 
147—9,  More,  and  n. 

Fitzwilliam,  sir  William,  i.  618,  19,  Wol- 
sey ;  his  noblemindedness,  i.  618,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Five  Points,  the ;  See  Quinquarticular  Con- 
troversy. 

Fox,  bishop  of  Hereford,  ii.  256,  7,  Crom- 
well, and  n. 

Fox,  John,  the  martyrologist,  extracts  from ; 
See  Wickliffe,  Thorpe,  Lord  Cobham, 
Supplementary  Extracts,  Bilney,  Tindall, 
Cromwell,  Rogers,  Hooper,  Taylor,  Lati- 
mer,  Ridley,  Cranmer,  Mountain. 

,  his  PuritAn  partialities,  ii.  363,  4,  n. 

Hooper ;  367—70,  do,  and  n. 

,  his  Latin  edition,  i.  179,  n.  Wickliffe  ; 

239,  40,  n.  do. ;  282,  n.  Thorpe  ;  ii.  3,  4, 
n.  Bilney;  210,  n.  Tindall. 

,  the  Ferrar  family's  esteem  for,  iv. 

125,  6,  Ferrar. 

Franc  almoinage ;  See  Eleemosynam. 

Francis  I.,  Wolsey's  decision  against,  i. 
488,  n.  Wolsey. 

Francis's,  St.,  cowl,  interment  in,  ii.  15, 16, 
Biluey,  and  n. ;  36,  do. ;  502,  Latimer. 

Frankfort,  Geneva,  &c.  troubles  at,  under  Q. 
Mary,  iii.  84,  5,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  iii.  345,  6, 
Jewel. 

Fraternity,  letters  of,  i.  216,  Wickliffe;  ii. 
15,  n.  Bilney;  229,  Cromwell,  and  n. 

Frederic,  the  emperor,  treatment  of  by  P. 
Alexander  III.  i.  47,  8,  Inett ;  70—3,"  do. 

Free-will-men,  Harry  Hart,  &c.  iii.  65,  6, 
Ridley,  and  n. 

Frescobald,  Francis,  ii.  272—8,  Cromwell. 

Friars,  mendicant  orders  ;  general  character 
of,  i.  181,  2,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  buy  up 
books,  409,  10,  n.  Supplem.  Extracts; 
come  into  England,  A.D.  1220,  ii.  245, 
Cromwell ;  younjj;  Gilpin  disgusted  by 
one,  iii.  381,  2,  Gilpin.  See  also  Monas- 
teries, Monks,  Religious  Orders. 


Frith,  John,  a  very  extraordinary  person,  ii. 
214- — 16,  Tindall,  and  n.;  grounds  on  which 
he  was  content  to  suffer  martyrdom,  iii. 
100,  1,  n.  Ridley. 

Fuller,  Dr.  Thomas,  quoted  in  n.  Gloria 
Patri,  use  of,  discouraged,  iv.  36,  Her- 
bert. 


fi. 


GALLICAN  Church  ;  See  Church,  Gallican. 

Gandune,  John  of,  i.  199,  Wickliffe, 
and  n. 

Gardiner,  bishop;  bis  name,  Dr.  Stevens, i. 
557,  Wolsey,  and  n. ;  influence  of,  on  K. 
Henry  VIII.  iii.  165—7,  Cranmer;  writes 
against  Cranmer,  on  the  Eucharist,  193,  4, 
do. ;  protests  against  the  charge  of  cruelty, 
ii.  412,  Taylor,  and  n. ;  declares  his  judg- 
ment to  be  against  any  further  burning  of 
the  reformers,  428,  9,  n.  do. ;  personal 
description  of,  iii.  289,  n.  Mountain  ;  dis- 
claims being  of  a  proselyting  spirit,  337, 
n.  Jewel ;  his  death,  &c.  iii.  127,  8,  Ridley. 

,  quoted  in  n. ;  Monasteries,  and 

"faith  only,"  ii.  248,  9,  n.  Cromwell; 
Wolsey's  mistrust  of,  i.  578,  n.  Wolsey ; 
his  reply  to  Cranmer,  iii.  26,  n.  Ridley. 

Gelasius,  De  duabus  Naturis  quoted,  iii.  19, 
n.  Ridley. 

Ghost,  Holy,  mass  of  the,  iii.  42,  Ridley, 
and  n. 

Gilpin,  Bernard,  life,  &c.  of,  iii.  374—440. 

,  George,  iii.  393,  Gilpin  ;  412,  do. 

Gloria  Patri,  usage  of,  discouraged  during 
the  usurpation,  iv.  36,  n.  Herbert;  189, 
n.  Ferrar. 

God's  marks,  in  the  sweating  sickness,  ii. 
117,  More,  and  n. 

Golden  Legend,  the,  read  in  churches,  &c. 
to  the  neglect  of  the  Scriptures,  iii.  426,  7, 
Gilpin,  and  n. 

,  quoted  in  n. ;  Lent,  5.  176, 

Wickliffe ;  St.  Longius,  the  blind  knight, 
268,  Thorpe. 

Gouge,  Rev.  Thomas,  his  pious  and  charita- 
ble works,  iv.  691,  2,  Tillotson. 

Gower,  John,  influence  of,  on  the  Reforma- 
tion, i.  414 — 16,  Supplem.  Extracts. 

Grace,  rood  of,  ii.  282,  Cromwell. 

Grafton,  manor  of,  its  various 


i.  574,  n.  Wolsey. 
Wolsey's  reception  at,  i.   580,  n. 

Wolsey. 

Grammar  Schools  ;  See  Schools. 
Greek   tongue,   study   of,   opposed   by   the 

Papists,  iii.  333,  n.  Jewel ;  Latimer  says, 

not  understood  by  him,  ii.  598, 9,  Latimer, 

and  n. 

Gregory,  Pope,  the  great,  i.  11,  Inett. 
,  Pope  (Hildebrand) ;  his  ambitious 

designs,  i.  6,  Inett;  17,  do.;  20,  1,  do., 

and  n. 
Gunpowder,  bags  of,  given  occasionally  to 

the  martyrs,  ii.  401,  2,  Hooper,  and  n. ; 

442,  3,  Taylor ;  iii.  124,  Ridley. 
Treason,  Nov.  5,  i.  158,  Bcntloy. 


INDEX. 


735 


H. 


HACKET,  and  Copinger,  iii.  486,  Hooker, 
and  n. :  545—8,  do.  and  n. ;  iii.  591,  2, 
Whitgift. 

Hailes,  blood  of,  i.  425,  Supplem.  Extracts, 
and  n. ;  ii.  282,  3,  Cromwell,  and  n. ;  ii. 
487,  8,  Latimer. 

Hair,  shirts  of,  for  bodily  discipline,  ii.  67, 
More,  and  n. 

Hale,  sir  Matthew,  Life,  &c.  iv.  521—97. 

Hales,  sir  Jarnes,  recants ;  his  compunction 
and  death,  ii.  615,  Latimer,  and  n. 

Hall,  bishop,  Life,  &c.  iv.  265—326,  goes  to 
France,  in  an  embassy  from  England,  iv. 
103,  4.  See  also  Episcopacy. 

Hammond,  Dr.  Henry,  Life,&c.iv.327— 408; 
his  Practical  Catechism,  great  value  of,  iv. 
344,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  his  sentiments 
concerning  universal  redemption,  449 — 55, 
Sanderson,  and  n. 

Hampton  Court  Conference,  iii.  626,  Whit- 
gift,  and  n. ;  iv.  14,  Herbert. 

Harding,  Dr.  John,  against  Jewel,  iii.  356, 
Jewel;  Council  of  Trent,  his  account  of, 
414,  Gilpin. 

Harmonies  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  iv.  218 
— £0,  Ferrar. 

,  the  Ferrar,  preserved  in  the 

Brit.  Mus.,  iv.  218,  19,  n.  Ferrar. 

Hart,  Harry,  and  the  Free-will-men ;  See 
Free-will-men. 

Hawkins,  sir  John,  quoted  in  n. ;  church 
music,  i.  315,  Thorpe. 

Healths,  drinking  of,  iv.  537,  Hale,  and  n. 

Hendon,  manor  of,  i.  616,  17,  n.  Wolsey. 

Henry  II.,  K.,  and  Becket,  i.  39—58, 
Inett. 

Henry  VIII., K.,  his  accession, character,  &c. 
i.  4/3,  4,  Wolsey,  and  n. ;  the  divorce 
from  Q.  Catherine,  551 — 72.  See  also 
Divorce  ofK.  Henry  VIII.  His  eminent 
services  in  the  Reformation,  iii.  ]95 — 7, 
n.  Cranmer. 

. ,  his   useless   expenditure   in 

France,  i.  516,  n.  Wolsey. 

Henry,  prince  of  Wales,  and  bishop  Hall, 
iv.  286,  7,  Hall. 

Heraldry,  Sanderson's  study  of,  iv.  467, 
Sanderson ;  475,  do. 

,  importance  of,  formerly,  i.  599,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Herbert,  George,  his  Life,  &c.  iv.  1 — 64 ; 
his  Temple,  iii.  668,  Donne;  Ferrar' s 
prayer  for  him,  iv.  264. 

Heresy,  nature,  and  incidents  of,  i.  225,  6, 
n.  Wickliffe;  ii.  331,  n.  Rogers;  iii.  15, 
Ridley  ;  243,  4,  Cranmer  ;  223,  do. 

,  abjuration  of;  See  Abjuration. 

,  laws  against ;   stat.  5  Richard  II. 

i.  222,  3,  Wickliffe;  constitutions  of, 
Arundel,  statutes  of  K.  Henry  V.  &c. 
i.  272—4,  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  397,  8,  Cob- 
ham,  and  n. ;  Chicheley's  constitutions, 
399,  400,  Cobham,  and  n. ;  revival  of, 
under  Q.  Mary,  i.  226,  n.  Wickliffe; 
ii.  323,  4,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  ii.  616,  17, 
Latimer;  iii.  23,  4,  Ridley,  and  n. 


Heretics,  first  statute  for  burning,  i.  222 
Wickliffe,  and  n.  ;  Sawtray,  Win.,  the 
first  martyr,  254,  Wickliffe,  and  n. 

-  ,  bones,  burning  of,  i.  249,  Wickliffe, 
and  n. 

-  ,  prayer  for,  forbidden  ;  i.  401,  Cob- 
ham  ;   ii.   351,  Rogers,  and  n.  ;   400,   1, 
Hooper,  and  n. 

-  ,  not  to  be  conversed  with,  or  to  ad- 
dress the  people,  ii.  347,  Rogers  ;  398, 
Hooper,  and  n.  ;  419,  20,  n.  Taylor  ;  663, 
Latimer,  and  n.  ;  667,  8,  do.  ;  671,  do. 

-  ,  the  clergy  cannot  burn  them,  but 
they  must  be  turned  over  to  the  secular 
power,  ii.  330,  1,  Rogers,  and  n. 

Herford,  Nicholas,  i.  227,  Wickliffe  ;  236— 

39,  do. 

Hermit,  Peter  the,  i.  87,  Inett. 
Herod's  oath  ;  See  Oath. 
High  Commission  Court,  iii.  614—  16,  Whit- 

gift. 

Hildebrand,  pope  ;  See  Gregory  VII. 
Hoggard,  Miles,  a  cruel  persecutor,  ii.  352, 

n.  Rogers  ;  676,  n.  Latimer. 
Holidays,  celebration  of,  its  excellent  uses, 

iv.  37,  8,  Herbert,  and  n. 
Holmes,  John,  esq.,  the  editor's  great  obli- 

gations to,  Advertisement,  vi  ;  iv.   199, 

n.  Ferrar. 
Holy  Ghost,  sin  against,  ii.  30,  1,  Bilney, 

and  n. 
--  ,  in  baptism,  ii.  638,  n.  Latimer; 

639,  do. 
--  ,  mass   of  the,  iii.  42,  Ridley, 

and  n. 
Holy  Land,  the,  pilgrimages,  &c.  to  ;   See 

Crusade. 
Homilies,  Saxon,  respecting  the  Eucharist, 

i.  5,  n.  Inett. 

-  of  the  Church  of  England  ;  cha- 
racter of,  iii.  90,  Ridley;  authors  of,  194,5, 
and  n.  Cranmer. 

,  projected  new  book  of  (Tillotson 


and    Burnet),    iv.    462  —  5,    Sanderson, 
and  n. 

Hooker,  Richard,  Life,  &c.  iii.  441—^53; 
his  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  letter  to  Whitgift 
when  writing  it,  iii.  516,  17,  Hooker;  when 
published,  518,  do.;  6th,  7th,  and  8th 
books,  534—40,  do.  ;  Keble's  edition  of 
his  works,  iii.  523,  n.  do. 

-  and  bishop  Sanderson,  iv.  430,  n. 
Sanderson;  "Christian  letter"  to,  account 
of,  iii.  521—3,  n.  Hooker. 

,  quoted  in  n.  Christian  kings  have 
jurisdiction  in  causes  ecclesiastical,  i.  60,  1, 
Inett;  do  not  make,  only  place  bishops,  64, 
5,  do.  ;  patrons  of  bishoprics,  123  —  6,  do.  ; 
parochial  patronage,  126,  do.  ;  private  judg- 
ment, 291,  2,  Thorpe;  different  judgments 
respecting  the  nature  of  Christ's  presence 
in  the  Eucharist,  295  —  7,  do.  ;  instru- 
mental music,  314,  do. 

Hooper,  bishop,  Life,  &c.  ii.  355—404. 

--  ,  quoted  in  n.  ;  the  king  cannot  sur- 
render the  rights  of  his  crown,  i.  23,  4, 
Inett. 

Horace,  odes  of,  Sanderson's  delight  in,  iv. 
467,  Sanderson. 


736 


INDEX. 


Hospitals,  the  royal,  founded  by  K.  Edward 
VL,  iii.  109,  10,  Ridley,  and  n. 

Hubberdin,  a  popish  preacher,  ii.  481,  2, 
Latimer;  489—91,  do. 

Hudson,  Dr.  Michael,  and  K.  Charles  I.  iv. 
202—4,  Ferrar,  and  n. 

Humfrey,  Dr.  Lawrence,  his  Life  of  Jewel, 
iii.  319,  20,  Jewel. 

Hunsden,  Henry  VIII.'s  palace  at,  iii.  11, 
n.  Ridley. 

Hunt,  Mr.  Nicholas,  letter  to,  from  arch- 
bishop Tillotson.  iv.  699—702,  Tillotson. 

Huss,  John,  i.  253,  Wickliffe;  427,  Supple- 
mentary Extracts. 


I  &  J. 

JAMES  L,  K. ;  his  accession,  iii.  612,  13, 
Whitgift;  will  maintain  in  church  matters 
the  policy  of  the  late  queen,  625 — 7,  do. ; 
Gondomar's  influence  over,  iv.  161,  Fer- 
rar ;  his  directions  for  studies,  preaching, 
&c.  iii.  661,  2,  Donne,  and  n. ;  iv.  334, 
Hammond,  and  n. ;  422,  Sanderson ;  his 
death,  iv.  18,  Herbert. 

James,  Dr.  Thomas,  quoted  in  n.,  Wickliffe, 
encomium  on,  i.  169,  Wickliffe ;  charge 
against  Jewel,  of  a  false  citation,  answered, 
iii.  359,  60,  Jewel. 

Idolatry,  discountenanced  by  papists  in  the 
schools,  but  encouraged  in  ordinary  prac- 
tice, i.  302,  n.  Thorpe ;  iii.  396,  Gilpin ; 
415,  do. 

Jenkyns,  Rev.  Professor,  his  edition  of 
Cranmer  commended,  iii.  144,  n.  Cranmer. 
,  quoted  in  n. ;  services  of  Henry 
VIII.  in  the  Reformation,  seldom  duly 
appreciated,  195 — 7,  n.  Cranmer ;  papal 
usurpations,  220,  do. ;  whether  Cranmer 
ever  held  the  doctrine  of  consubstan- 
tiation,  234,  5,  do. ;  sentences  against 
Cranmer,  &c.  invalid,  ii.  616,  17,  n.  La- 
timer. 

Jesuits,  the,  i.  157,  Bentley;  iii.  438,  9, 
Gilpin. 

Jewel,  bishop,  Life,  &c.  iii.  315—74;  pa- 
tronizes young  Hooker,  461 — 4,  Hooker. 

Jews  and  Turks,  their  conversion,  obstacles 
to,  ii.  17,  n.  Bilney. 

Ignoramus,  comedy  of,  iv.  131,  n.  Ferrar. 

Ignorance,  popery  sustained  by,  408,  9,  Sup- 
plementary Extracts. 

of  religion,  in  the  people  generally, 

i.  171—4,  Wickliffe;  310,  Thorpe,  and 
n.;  ii.  13,  Bilney. 

.  in  the  clergy;  See  Clergy,  igno- 

rance of. 

Image,  miracle-working,  at  Sichem,  in  Bra- 
bant, iv.  281,  n.  Halt 

Images,  worship  of,  i.  3Q1 — 8,  Thorpe,  and 
n. ;  an  obstacle  to  the  conversion  of  Jews, 
&c.  ii.  17,  n.  Bilney ;  discouraged  by  pa- 
pists in  the  schools,  but  encouraged  in 
vulgar  practice,  i.  302,  n.  Thorpe ;  iii. 
396,  7,  Gilpin  ;  415,  do. 

,  burning  of  lightsbefore,  signification, 

&c.  of,  ii.  18, 19,  Bilney,  and  n. 


Images,  laymen's  books,  i.  302,  Thorpe ; 
305,  do.;  367,  8,  Cobham,  and  n. ;  ii. 
482,  Latimer. 

Impropriations  of  benefices,  mischiefs,  &c. 
of,  i.  151,  Bentley ;  iii.  372,  Jewel,  and 
n. ;  402,  Gilpin,  and  n. ;  425,  n.  do. 

Independents,  their  courtesies  to  K.  Charles 
I.  iv.  347,  8,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  439, 
Sanderson ;  have  supplanted  the  Presby- 
terians, 469,  do.  See  also  Presbyterians. 

Indifferent  things,  nature,  &c.  of,  iii.  33, 
Ridley,  and  n. ;  99,  100,  n.  do. 

Indulgences,  papal,  i.  157,  Bentley;  216, 
Wickliffe,  n. ;  369,  n.  Cobham ;  526,  7, 
Wolsey,  and  n. ;  618,  do.;  ii.  12—15, 
Bilney;  the  Boston  pardons,  223—9, 
Cromwell ;  extended  to  many  thousand 
years,  iii.  428,  Gilpin. 

Inett,  Dr.  John,  quoted  in  n. ;  capitular 
elections,  i.  35,  Inett;  bishops,  appoint- 
ment, &c.  of,  119—24,  do. 

Infallibility,  disclaimed  by  the  Church  of 
England,  i.  284,  5,  Thorpe,  and  n. 

,  claimed  by  the  church  of  Rome, 

iii.  100,  n.  Ridley.     See  also  Art.  XIX. 

Innocent,  Pope,  III.  character  and  ambitious 
designs,  i.  6,  Inett ;  77,  do. 

Innovations,  in  religion,  alleged,  under  K. 
Charles  I.  iv.  288,  9,  Hall,  and  n. ;  293, 
do. ;  295,  6,  do.  and  n. 

Inquisition,  the,  i.  160,  Bentley. 

Institution  of  a  Christian  man,  ii.  260,  1,  n. 
Cromwell ;  iii.  47,  Ridley. 

,  quoted  in  n. ;  usurped  authority 

of  the  bishops  of  Rome  may  be  renounced, 
i.  24,  5,  Inett. 

Interdict,  papal,  nature  and  incidents  of, 
under  K.  Henry  II.,  i.  50,  Inett ;  under 
K.  John,  80, 1,  do. ;  released,  after  having 
continued  above  six  years,  103,  do. ;  at 
Venice,  iv.  86 — 9,  Wotton ;  privilege 
against,  ii.  228,  Cromwell. 

Investiture  of  bishops ;  See  Bishops. 

John,  K.,  and  Pope  Innocent  III.  i.  22 — 4, 
Inett,  and  n. ;  81,  2,  do. ;  his  surrender 
to  the  pope  an  illegal  act,  i.  22—5,  Inett, 
and  n. ;  91,  do.;  99,  do.;  194,  5,  n. 
Wickliffe. 

Jokin,  John  (Giovanni  Groacchino),  notice 
of,  i.  510,  11,  n.  Wolsey. 

,  letters  of  to  Francis  I.  in  behalf  of 
Wolsey,  i.  610,  11,  Wolsey. 

Ireland,  pretended  grant  of  to  K.  Henry  II. 
by  Pope  Adrian,  i.  29,  30,  Inett,  and  n. ; 
54,  do. ;  91,  do. 

Irish  digest  of  evidence,  quoted  in  n. ;  Thou, 
O  God,  hast  deceived  us,  i.  289,  Thorpe ; 
general  councils  discontinued  since  the 
Reformation,  ii.  663,  Latimer. 

Isaiah,  chap.  53,  iv.  647,  n.  Rochester; 
654,  5,  do. 

Islands,  Christian,  claimed  by  the  Pope  as 
part  of  his  regalia,  i.  29,  30,  Inett,  and  n. 

Italians,  &c.  preferments  in  England  con- 
ferred on,  by  the  popes ;  See  Benefices. 

Judges,  their  patents  during  life,  iv.  563,  4, 
n.  Hale. 

Judgment,  private;  See  Private  Judg- 
ment. 


INDEX. 


737 


Jurisdiction,  spiritual,  nature  and  kinds  of, 
i.  126,  n.  Inett. 

Justification  by  faith,  i.  429,  30,  Supple- 
mentary Extracts,  and  n. ;  Hooker  aud 
Travers,  iii.  506,  7,  Hooker. 


KATHARINE,  queen,  her  suspicions  of  Henry 
VIII.,  i.  506,  n.  Wolsey. 

,  her  divorce,  i.  551,  n.  Wolsey. 

Kenn,  bishop;  examined  in  religion,  when 
he  gave  alms,  ii.  375,  n.  Hooper;  tra- 
velled with  his  shroud,  iii.  679,  n.  Donne. 

K.  Henry  VIII.     See  Henry  VIII.  K. 

K.  Edward  VI.     See  Edward  VI.  K. 

K.  James  I.     See  James  I.  K. 

K.  Charles  I.     See  Charles  I.  K. 

K.  Charles  II. ;  his  restoration,  iv.  394,  5, 
Hammond  ;  his  declaration  (1674)  against 
popish  recusants,  and  dissenting  conven- 
ticles, iv.  687,  8,  Tillotson.  See  also 
Restoration. 

K.  William  III.,  iv.  702,  3,  Tillotson  ; 
723,  do. 

King's  arms,  set  up  in  churches,  in  place  of 
the  rood,  iii.  233,  Cranmer,  and  n. 

scholar,  ii.  253,  4,  Cromwell,  and  n. 

supremacy  ;  See  Supremacy. 

Knights,  ancient  style  of  addressing,  i.  46, 
n.  Wolsey. 


LAKE,  bishop,  his  character,  iv.  421,  San- 
derson. 

Lambeth,  churchwardens'  accounts,  iv.  324, 
5,  n.  Hall ;  228,  n.  Ferrar. 

"  Lanthem"  explained,  i.  521,  n.  Wolsey. 

Lateran  Council,  fourth  ;  See  Council. 

Latimer,  bishop,  Life,  6cc.  ii.  445 — 680. 

's  sermons,  &c.  quoted  in  n  ;  Bilney's 

contrition,  ii.  30,  1 ,  Bilney ;  thirty  apples 
in  a  dish,  33,  do. ;  blood  of  Hailes,  282,  3, 
n.  Cromwell;  his  father,  447,  8,  Latimer; 
a  merry  monk,  448,  do. ;  his  wax  candle, 
462,  3,  do. ;  riches,  danger  of,  469,  70,  do.; 
the  major  pars  often  not  the  melior,  474, 
do. ;  his  first  lesson  at  court,  479,  do.  ; 
sermon  before  the  convocation,  542,  3, 
do. ;  his  Card  Sermon,  521,  2,  do. ; 
cases  of  restitution,  543,  4,  do. ;  at  Lam- 
beth Palace,  545,  6,  do.;  obedience  to 
princes,  595,  6,  do. ;  term,  "  the  Lord's 
Supper,"  598,  do. ;  kings,  though  they  be 
children,  are  kings  notwithstanding, iii.  12, 
13,  n.  Ridley;  private  confession  to  a  priest, 
74,  do.;  Till  all  agree,  I  will  stand  neuter, 
112,  do.;  chantry  priests  put  into  cures, 
to  save  their  pensions,  iii.  154,  Cranmer; 
chaplains  for  prisons,  &c.  289,  do. ;  exhi- 
bitions to  poor  scholars,  336,  7,  do. ;  the 
devil,  a  busy  bishop,  392,  Jewel;  mid- 
wives  need  to  be  instructed  in  religion, 
416,  Cilpin;  our  fathers,  living  and  dying 

VOL.   IV. 


in  Popish  superstition,  505,  6,  Hooker; 
want  of  discipline  and  subordination  after 
the  Reformation,  iii.  564,  Whitgift. 
Latin  Service ;  See  Service  in  an  unknown 


Latin  Vulgate,  enjoined  by  the  council  of 
Trent,  i.  148—51,  Bentley. 

Latria  and  doulia,  iii.  397,  Gilpin,  and  n. 

Laud,  archbishop,  omen  avertat  Deus,  i. 
636,  7,  n.  Wolsey;  Laud  and  Strafford, 
ii.  673,  n.  Latimer;  Laud  and  the  Fer- 
rars,  iv.  223 — 39;  unjust  and  barbarous 
usage  of,  454 — 6,  Sanderson ;  his  defence 
against  the  charge  of  urging  illegal  imposi- 
tions, 301,  2,  n.  Hall. 

Law,  canon,  general  description  of,  i.  128 — 
30,  n.  Inett ;  contrary  to  the  law  of  Eng- 
land, iii.  218,  19,  Cranmer,  and  n. ; 
221,  2,  do.  and  n. ;  contrary  to  the  Scrip- 
ture, iii.  217,  Cranmer ;  better  be  without 
God's  law,  than  the  Pope's,  ii.  193,  Tin- 
dall,  and  n. 

,  civil,  value,  &c.  of;  not  enough  studied 

in  England,  iv.  540,  Hale ;  570,  1 ,  do. 

Lawson,  Rev.  George,  quoted  in  n. ;  the 
judges  agree  to  act  under  Cromwell,  iv. 
544,  Hale. 

Legates,  different  kinds  of,  and  their  uses 
to  the  papacy,  i.  137,  8,  Inett. 

Legend,  Golden  ;  See  Golden  Legend. 

Lent,  stress  laid  on  its  observance,  i.  175 — 8, 
Whitgift,  and  n. ;  Frebarn's  wife,  and 
bishop  Stokesley,  ii.  261 — 66,  Cromwell. 

Letter  from  the  earl  of  Rochester  to  the 
countess,  iv.  645,  6,  n.  Rochester. 

Letters,  two,  of  the  earl  of  Rochester,  now 
first  printed,  iv.  657,  8,  n.  Rochester. 

,  five,  of  Ann,  countess  of  Rochester, 

respecting  her  son,  iv.  666 — 75,  Ro- 
chester ;  they  evidence  the  earl's  sincere 
repentance,  iv.  666,  7,  n.  do. 

Letters,  revival  of,  i.  426 — 8,  Supplem.  Ex- 
tracts. 

Lever's,  Thomas,  sermon  at  Paul's  Cross, 
quoted  in  n. ;  university  fare,  studies,  &c. 
ii.  82,  More. 

Leveson,  the  family  of,  great  purchasers  of 
church-lands,  iv.  288,  9. 

Lewis,  Rev.  John,  quoted  in  n  ;  Satan, 
loosing  of,  i.  186,  Wickliffe ;  parliament, 
complaints  of,  against  papal  usurpations, 
192—4,  do;  name  Lollards,  230,  1,  do. ; 
Wickliffe's  death,  241,  2,  do. ;  progress  of 
Wicklifte's  opinions,  250,  do. ;  253,  do. ; 
Arundel's,  &o.  constitutions  against  heresy, 
272,  3,  Thorpe;  Chicheley's  do.  399, 
400,  do. ;  letters  of  fraternity,  216,  Wick- 
liffe ;  pilgrimages,  controversy  respecting, 
312,  Thorpe. 

Libertas  ecclesiastica,  i.  49,  50,  Inett,  and  n. 

Life ;  conduct  of,  rules  for,  sir  Matthew 
Hale's,  iv,  538,  Hale ;  550,  do. ;  561,  2, 
do. ;  bishop  Hall's,  iv.  291,  2,  n.  Hall. 

Litany,  petition  in  "  from  the  tyranny  of  the 
bishop  of  Rome,"  withdrawn,  and  why, 
iii.  348,  Jewel,  n. ;  ii.  418,  Taylor,  and  n. 

Liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England;  enco- 
miums on,  ii.  423,  Taylor,  and  n.  ;  Rid- 
ley's, iii.  89— 91,  Ridley ;  White's,  Bax- 

3   B 


738 


INDEX. 


ter,  &c.  iv.  369,  70,  Hammond,  and  n. ; 
Sanderson's,  4GO,  1,  Sanderson. 

Liturgy,  the  two  books  of  K.  Edward,  ii. 
597,  Latimer,  and  n.  ;  compiled,  &c. 
through  means  of  Cranmer,  iii.  194,  5,  n. 
Cranmer;  translated  into  Latin  by  Ale- 
sius,  ii.  606,  n.  Latimer;  declared  against 
by  Knox,  &c.  at  Frankfort,  iii.  14,  15,  n. 
Ridley. 

,  passages  offensive  to  Papists  ex- 
punged under  Q.  Elizabeth,  ii.  417,  18,  n. 
Taylor  ;  iii.  348,  n.  Jewel. 

,  frequented  by  Papists,  till  Pope's 

bull  in  1569,  iii.  324—8,  Jewel,  and  n. 

Herbert's  explanation  of,  iv.  33 — 


40,  Herbert. 
,  outrages  against,  Sanderson's  prac- 
tice in  the  usage  of,  iv.  446,  Sanderson, 
and  n. 

-,  alterations  in,  at  the  Restoration, 


iv.  470,  1,  Sanderson;  proposed  revisal 
of,  in  1689,  704-£,  Tillotson. 

Lloyd's  State  Worthies,  quoted  in  n. ;  More's 
apophthegms,  ii.  108,  More ;  Cromwell's 
do.  294,  5,  n.  Cromwell. 

Lollards,  name  of,  i.  230,  1,  Wickliffe,  and 
n. ;  their  russet  gowns,  i.  185,  do.  and  n. ; 
325,  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  increase,  rapid,  in 
their  numbers,  i.  250,  1,  Wickliffe,  and  n. 

Lord's  Prayer,  frequent  occurrence  of  in  the 
Liturgy,  iv.  35,  n.  Herbert. 

Lord's  Supper,  name  of,  vindicated,  ii.  598, 
Latimer ;  Puritans  deter  from  attendance 
at,  iv.  466,  Sanderson  ;  benefits  of,  ibid. 

' ,  a  passage  from  De  ccena 

Domini  respecting  the,  quoted,  iii.  23,  n. 
Ridley. 

Lovell,  sir  Thomas,  some  account  of,  i. 
469,  n.  Wolsey. 

Luther,  Martin,  general  account  of,  i.  424 — 
31,  Supplem.  Extracts ;  character  of,  by 
bishop  Atterbury,  428,  n.  do. ;  Gilpin  had 
not  read,  and  why,  iii.  397,  8,  Gilpin; 
Luther  and  Calvin  were  only  men,  iv.  334, 
n.  Hammond. 

— ,  Protestant  religion  where  before,  i. 

416 — 18,  Supplem.  Extracts,  and  n. ;  ii. 
605,  Latimer  ;  iv.  99,  Wotton ;  the  ques- 
tion, how  not  to  be  answered,  299,  Hall, 
and  n. ;  Popery  is  the  new  religion,  ii.  633, 
Latimer,  and  n. 

Lutheran  doctrine  respecting  the  Eucharist, 
ii.214,n.  Tindall;  601,  Latimer;  Melanc- 
thon,  iii.  20,  Ridley  ;  whether  ever  main- 
tained by  Cranuier,  iii.  234,  Cranmer, 
and  n. 

Lynwood's  Provinciale,  ii.  192,  Tindall,  and 
n. 

Lyttleton,  sir  Edward,  notice  of,  iv.  311, 
n.  Hall. 


M. 


MAONA  CHARTA,  K.  John  sends  to  Rome 
to  be  absolved  from  his  oath  to,  i.  109, 
Inett;  Kngland  not  indebted  to  Popery 
for,  i.  100,  do.  and  n. 

Maitland,  Dr.,  quoted,  concerning  the  lan- 


guage and  manners  of  the  age,  ii.  75,  6,  n. 

Maitland,  Dr.,  his  character  of  Thomas 
Cromwell,  ii.  229,  30,  n.  Cromwell 

Majority  of  votes,  nature,  &c.  of,  iii.  44, 
Ridley,  and  n. 

Man,  the  Isle  of,  iv.  247,  Ferrar. 

,  Whole  Duty  of,  its  great  value,  &c.  iv. 

344,  n.  Hammond  ;  478,  Sanderson  ;  691, 
Tillotson. 

Marprelate,  Martin,  scurrility,  &c.  iii.  486 — 
8,  Hooker,  and  n.  See  also  Pamphlets, 
Puritan. 

Marriage  of  Priests,  i.  158,  Bentley ;  448, 
Colet:  its  lawfulness,  ii.  317,  18,  Rogers, 
and  n.;  378,  Hooper;  421,  Taylor; 
424—6,  do.;  hardships  inflicted  ori  the 
deprived  clergy,  ii.  317,  n.  Rogers  ;  priests 
and  their  concubines,  relation  between, 
before  the  Reformation,  332,  3,  Rogers, 
and  n. ;  336,  7,  do.  and  n.  See  also  Art. 
XXXII. 

of  the  regular,  in  distinction  to  the 

secular  clergy,  ii.  305,  Rogers,  and  n. ; 
336,  7,  do.  and  n. ;  338,  do.  and  n. 

,  anonymous  defence  of,  quoted  in  n. ; 

all  Christian  islands,  fiefs  of  the  See  of 
Rome,  i.  29,  30.  Inett ;  divine  service  in 
a  known  tongue,  149,  Bentley ;  the  earl 
of  Shrewsbury  and  the  French  ambassa- 
dor, 522 — 4,  n.  Wolsey  ;  priests  and  their 
concubines,  ii.  333,  Rogers;  marriage  of 
priests,  336,  7,  do. ;  physical  calamities 
under  Q.  Mary,  345,  6,  do. 

Marriages  of  Quakers,  not  to  be  declared 
void,  though  not  solemnized  according  to 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  iv.  574,  5, 
Hale. 

Martyr,  Peter ;  his  learning,  &c.,  iii.  202,  3, 
Cranmer;  professor  of  divinity  at  Oxford, 
iii.  334,  5,  Jewel;  invites  Jewel  to  Ntras- 
burgh,  343,  do. ;  Gilpin  engaged  to  dis- 
pute against  him,  384,  Gilpin. 

Martyrs,  letters  of,  quoted  in  n. ;  exhorta- 
tion to  suffer  the  worst,  ii.  392,  3,  Hooper ; 
Laurence  Saunders,  his  wife  and  child, 
393,  4,  do.  ;  Dr.  Weston,  and  Laurence 
Saunders,  iii.  39, 40,  n.  Ridley;  plea-  and 
excuses  for  apostasy,  56,  7,  do. ;  rejoicing 
in  tribulation,  Glover's,  61,  do. ;  Ridley's 
moderation  respecting  the  prcdcstinarian 
controversy,  73,  do. ;  all  agree,  that  divine 
service  ought  to  be  in  the  English  tongue, 
76,  do. ;  pen  and  ink,  not  permitted  to 
those  in  prison,  84,  do. ;  Cranmer's  account 
of  his  consent  to  lady  Jane  Grey's  succes- 
sion, 198, 9,  n.  Cranmer  ;  Q.  Mary's  oaths, 
at  her  coronation,  self-contradictory,  218, 
19,  do.;  Cranmer  to  Q.  Mary,  against  the 
Pope's  Supremacy,  221,  2,  n.  do.  See 
also  Heretics,  Reformers. 

Martyrs,  pen  and  ink,  use  of,  denied  to  those 
in  prison,  iii.  80,  Ridley,  and  n. 

-,  prayer  for,  forbidden  ;  See  Heretics, 
-,  their  speaking  to  the  people,  for- 


bidden ;  See  Heretics. 

-,  pardons  brought  to,  and  exhibited 


at  their  burning  ;  Sec  Pardons. 
,  grounds  on  which  they  were  con- 


INDEX. 


739 


tent    to    suffer,    iii.    97—102,    Ridley, 
and  n. 

Martyrs,    did    not   ambitiously   court  mar- 
tyrdom, iii.  33 — 5,  Ridley,  and  n. 

,  gunpowder  supplied  to  ;  See  Gun- 
powder. 

,  their  shirt,  ii.  677,  n.  Latimer. 

. ,  Scriptures,  chapters  of,   used  hy; 

See  Scriptures. 

,  clergy's  pretended  intercessions  for 

lenity  towards,  ii.  330,  1,  Rogers. 

-,  their  kissing  the  stake,  &c.  ii.  442, 


Taylor,  and  n. 

-,  effects  produced  by  their  executions 


on  the  spectators,  ii.  400,  1,  Hooper,  and 
n. ;  440—2,  Taylor,  and  n. 

,  sentence  of  condemnation,  forms  of; 

lord    Cobham's,    i.     387 — 9,    Cobham ; 
Rogers's,  ii.  328—31,  Rogers. 
Mary,  Virgin  ;  See  Virgin  Mary. 
Mary,  Q.,  calamities  physical ,  under,  ii.  345, 
6,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  iii.  277,  Cranmer,  and 
n.;  description  of,  in  her  youth,  iii.  11, 
Ridley,  and  n. ;  Ridley's  interview  with, 
iii.    10 — 13,   Ridley;   determined   cruel- 
ties  of  her  government,  ii.  418 — 20,  n. 
Taylor;   iii.  310,  n.  Mountain;    alleged 
pleas  and  excuses  for  apostasy  under,  iii. 
32,  3,  n.  Ridley  ;   56,  7,  do.;  Ill,  12,  do. 
and  n. ;  115 — 17,  do.  and  n. 
Mass,  sacrifice  of;  See  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 
Matthiolo's  Discorsi,  &c.  i.  Ill,  n.  Wotton. 
Maximilian,    treaty   between,   and    Henry 

VII.,  i.  469,  n.  Wolsey. 
Mediation,  Christ's;  advocation  and  invoca- 
tion of  saints,  iii.  431,  2,  Gilpin. 
Melvin,  Andrew,  a  zealous  puritan,  iv.  14, 

Herbert. 

Memory,  retentive,  instances  of,  iii.  362, 
Jewel,  and  n. ;  Ridley's,  ii.  578,  Latimer, 
and  n. ;  iii.  4,  n.  Ridley  ;  Sanderson's,  iv. 
467,  Sanderson. 

Merits,  doctrine  of,  ii.  451,  2,  Latimer. 
Michael,  St.,  establishment  of  the  order  of, 

i.  543,  n.  Wolsey. 
Midwives,   their   need  to  be  instructed  in 

religion,  iii.  416,  Gilpin,  and  n. 
Millenary,  the  second,  i.  186,  7,  Wickliffe  ; 

300,  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  307,  n.  do. 
Millennium,  reign  of  the  saints,  iv.  547, 

Hale. 
Minion,  curious  illustrations  of  the  term,  i. 

538,  n.  Wolsey. 
Minister,  priest,  &c.  names  of,  ii.  599,  600, 

Latimer,  and  n. 

Miracles,  by  the  illusion  of  Satan,  i.  307, 
Thorpe,  and  n.  ;  pretended,  popish,  ii.  50, 
More,  and  n.  ;  images  with  wires,  &c. 
281—4,  Cromwell;  at  Zichem,  iv.  279, 
80,  Hale.  See  also  Hailes,  blood  of. 
Mirror  of  our  Lady,  quoted  in  n.;  talkers 
at  divine  service,  i.  348,  Thorpe;  K. 
Robert  of  France  assists  at  divine  service 
in  a  cope,  ii.  68,  n.  More. 
Moderation  of  the  English  Church,  iv.  692, 
3,  Tillotson. 

of  the  English  Reformers;  Frith, 

&c.  ii.  216,  Tindall ;  Ridley,  iii.  73,  n. 
Ridley. 

3 


Monarchy  of  England,  usurpations  on  its 
prerogatives  by  the  popes,  i.  59 — 76,  Inett, 
and  n. ;  146,  do.  and  n. 

Monachism,  and  monks,  history,  &c.  of,  i. 
139,  40,  Inett ;  74,  5,  do. ;  151,  Bentley  ; 
172,  3,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  181,  2,  do.  and 
n. ;  ii.  240 — 7>  Cromwell  ;  impropria- 
tions  engrossed  by,  iii.  425,  Gilpin,  and  n. ; 
concealments,  iv.  289,  90,  Hale,  and  n. ; 
ill  consequences  of  exempting  them  from 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  ordinary,  i.  74 — 6, 
Inett,  and  n. ;  139,  do. 

Monasteries;  precedent  for  their  dissolution, 
set  by  Wolsey,  i.  555,  6,  Wolsey,  and  n. ; 
Supplication  of  Beggars,  ii.  91,  More; 
Cromwell's  employment  by  Wolsey,  in 
dissolution  of,  ii.  230,  1,  Cromwell,  and 
n. ;  accusations  against,  of  immoralities, 
&c.  238 — 40,  do.  and  n. ;  arguments  for 
and  against  their  dissolution,  238,  9,  do. 
and  n. ;  opposed  by  Cranmer,  iii.  147,  8, 
Cranmer,  and  n. ;  the  courtiers  rewarded 
by,  158 — 61,  do.  and  n. ;  the  reformers 
confined  to,  for  penance  ;  i.  422,  Supplem. 
Extracts. 

Montague,  bishop  Richard,  no  Arminian,  iv. 
297,  n.  Hall. 

Moor,  the,  at  Rickmansworth,  its  various 
possessors,  i.  574,  n.  Wolsey. 

Morality,  earl  of  Rochester's  sentiments  re- 
specting, iv.  617 — 25,  Rochester. 

More,  sir  Thomas,  Life,  &c.  ii.  43—185. 

quoted  in  n. ;  Rome,  tribute  to  by  K. 

John,  illegal,  i.  23,  Inett ;  his  censure  of 
Thorpe's  examination, 262, Thorpe;  king's 
supremacy,  &c.  266,  do. ;  Wolsey's  elo- 
quence, 476,  7,  Wolsey ;  alleged  pomp, 
luxury,  &c.  of  the  clergy  denied,  ii.  4, 
Bilney  ;  setting  up  of  lights  before  images, 
19,  do.;  pope's  supremacy,  originally  not 
maintained  by  More,  167,  8,  More. 

,  Dr.  Henry,  meditations  in  Eton  play- 
fields,  iv.  332,  n.  Hammond. 

Morice,  Cranmer's  secretary,  ii.  267 — 71, 
Cromwell,  and  n. 

Mortmain,  statutes  of,  i.  145,  n.  Inett. 

Morton,  bishop,  character  of,  iii.  642 — 5, 
Donne. 

Mountain,  Thomas,  his  troubles,  iii.  283— 
314. 

Monmouth,  Humphrey,  account  of,  ii.  196, 
Tindall,  and  n. 

Music,  Church ;  See  Church  Music. 

Mysteries  in  religion,  iv.  638 — 41,  Ro- 
chester ;  722,  Tillotson. 

N. 

NAG'S  Head  Tavern,  fable  of  bishops'  con- 
secration at,  iii.  383,  n.  Gilpin. 

Nanphant,  sir  John,  some  account  of,  i.  468, 
and  n.  Wolsey. 

Nash,  Tom,  &c.  iii.  502,  Hooker,  and  n. 

Necessary  doctrine,  or  bishops'  book,  Gar- 
diner "its  first  father,  or  chief  gatherer," 
iii.  47,  Ridley. 

Neville,  sir  Edward,  his  execution  for  high 
treason,  i.  497,  n.  Wolsey. 

B    2 


740 


INDEX. 


Nerius,  Philip,  iv.  527,  n.  Hale. 

New  year's  gifts  to  kings,  &c. ;  Latimer' s  to 
K.  Henry  VIII.  ii.  620,  Latimer. 

Non-jurors,  the,  iv.  709—11,  Tillotson. 

Non -residence,  by  Italians,  &c.  i.  191—4, 
WicklifFe,  and  n. ;  Gilpin  refuses  a  dis- 
pensation for,  iii.  391 — 3,  Gilpin. 

Non-resistance ;  See  Resistance,  Obedience, 
Passive,  &c. 

Nowell,  dean,  quoted  in  n. ;  friars,  their 
various  names,  orders,  vestures,  &c.  i. 
174,  5,  Wickliffe  ;  ignorance  of  the 
clergy,  ii.  192,  Tindall ;  apostasy  of  Gar- 
diner, Bonner,  &c.,  respecting  the  royal 
supremacy,  309 — 11,  Rogers;  Scriptures 
disparaged  by  the  papists,  314 — 16,  do. ; 
gunpowder  supplied  to  the  martyrs,  401, 
2,  Hooper;  popery  is  the  new  religion, 
633,  Latimer ;  papists,  their  scheme  in 
resigning  their  bishoprics,  &c.  iii.  487,  8, 
Hooker. 

Nun  of  Canterbury,  her  imposture,  ii.  133, 
4,  More,  and  n. ;  283,  Cromwell,  and  n. 


O. 


OATHS,  whether  lawful,  i.  281,  Thorpe; 
329—37,  do. ;  forms  of  taking,  332,  n. 
do. ;  ii.  365,  n.  Hooper ;  do  not  admit  of 
being  dispensed  with,  iii.  248,  Cranmer, 
and  n. ;  K.  John  sends  to  Rome  to  be 
absolved  from  his  oath  to  Magnet  Charta, 
i.  109,  Inett.  * 

Oath  of  kings  to  the  Pope,  i.  91,  2,  Inett, 
and  n. 

of  the  bishops  and  clergy  to  the  Pope, 

ii.  233,  4,  Cromwell,  and  n. 

,  the  coronation,  to  maintain  the  church, 

iii.  494,  5,  Hooker;  Q.  Mary's  self-con- 
tradictory, 219,  Cranmer. 

,  of  allegiance,  and  supremacy,  ii.  415, 

16,  Taylor,  and  n. ;  iii.  652,  Donne. 

,  the  etcetera,  iv.  302,  3,  Hall,  and  n. ; 

314,  do. 

,  Herod's,  ii.  415,  Taylor,  and  n. ;  iii. 

230,  Cranmer. 

,  profane,  prevalence  of,  before  the 

Reformation,  i.  283,  Thorpe;  331,  2, 
n.  do. 

Obedience  to  magistrates,  doctrine  of;  must 
obey  God,  rather  than  man,  ii.  595,  Lati- 
mer ;  iii.  53 — 75  Ridley,  and  n.  See  also 
Resistance. 

,  passive,  Tillotson's  letter  to  lord 

William  Russell,  iv.  694—6,  Tillotson. 

Old  Testament,  objections  against  its  history, 
&c.  answered,  iv.  631 — 38,  Rochester. 

Ordination,  presbyterian  ;  Travers's,  iii.  476, 
Hooker  ;  477,  do. ;  480,  do.  and  n.  See 
also  Re-ordination. 

Origans,  use  of,  in  churches,  i.  314,  n. 
Thorpe;  offence  taken  at,  in  Q.  Eliza- 
beth's chapel,  iii.  488,  9,  n.  Hooker; 
destroyed  at  Little  Gidding,  iv.  209,  Fer- 
rar;  at  Norwich,  324,  Hail. 

Origen,  on  Matt,  quoted,  iii.  1.'),  n,  Ridley. 

Outlawry  and  excommunication,  analogy 
between,  i.  400,  n.  Cobham. 


Overall,  bishop,  his   opinions   on   the   five 
points,  iv.  297,  8,  Hall. 

-,  quoted  in  n.     Decretals,  account  of, 


i.  128 — 30,  Inett. 
Oxford  fare,  ii.  82,  More,  and  n. 
university  statutes,  revisal  of,  Laud's, 

iv.  422,  3,  Sanderson. 
,  reasons  against  the  covenant,  iv. 

438,  9,  Sanderson,  and  n. 


PADUA,Marsilius  of,  i.  199,  Wickliffe, and  n. 
Paley,  Dr.  William,  quoted  in  n. ;  transub- 

stantiation,  i.  430,  Supplem.  Extracts. 
Palls  from  Rome,  of  bishops,  &c.  i.  133, 

Inett. 

Palmer,  Julius,  a  convert  to  the  Reforma- 
tion, iii.  125,  6,  Ridley. 
Papists,  salvability  of,  iii.  502—8,  Hooker ; 

510,  11,  do. ;  iv.  99,  Wotton,  507,  Baxter. 
are  only  half  the  king's  subjects,  ii. 

233—5,  Cromwell,  and  n. 
,  when  left  off  to  attend  the  church 

service,  iii.  324 — 8,  Jewel,  and  n. 
,  under  disguise  of  puritans,  iii.  3(56, 

Jewel,  and  n. ;  iv.  354,  Hammond,  and  n. 
Pardons,  popish  ;  See  Indulgences. 
Parker,  archbishop,  quoted  in   u. ;   Saxon 

homilies,  i.  5,  Inett. 

Parkhurst,  bishop,  iii.  332,  Jewel ;  334,  do. 
Parliament,  acts  of,  whether  may  be  disputed 

against  by  private  persons,  ii.  320,  Rogers ; 

326,  do.;  333— 9,  do. 
Parliamentary  History  of  England,  quoted 

in  n. ;  abdication  of  K.  John,  i.  22,  3, 

Inett. 
Parson,  the  Country,  Herbert's,  iv.  31,  2, 

Herbert,  and  n. 
Parsons,  Rev.  Robert,  his  funeral  sermon  on 

the  earl  of  Rochester,  iv.  646—51,  Ro- 
chester. 
Partum  reginae,  (Q.  Mary,)  thanks  given  for, 

iii.  85,  n.  Ridley. 

Passion  Sunday,  i.  355,  Cobham,  and  n. 
Patriarchs,  their  jurisdiction,  origin,  &c.  of, 

i.  12—7,  Inett ;  ii.  628,  9,  Latimer. 
Patrons  of  benefices ;  abuse  of  their  trust, 

avarice,  &c.  of,  iii.  149,  Cranmer,  and  n. ; 

390,   1,    n.   Gilpin;  400,  do.;    586,    7, 

Whitgift. 
Patronage  of  bishoprics ;  See  Bishops. 

of  parishes,  i.  126,  7,  n.  Inett. 

Paul,  Sir  George,  his  Life  of  Whitgift,  iii. 

555—629. 
Paul,  Father,  Sarpi ;  advice  to  the  Venetians 

against  the  Pope,  iv.  88,  9,  Wotton ;  en- 
comium on,  465,  Sanderson. 
Pecock,  bishop,  quoted  in   n. ;   clergy,  all 

commands  of,  to  be  obeyed,  i.  288,  Thorpe. 
Penance,  sacrament  of,  i.  367,  Cobham ; 

369,  do. 
Penance  for  heresy;    imposed    by  bishop 

Longland,  i.  422,  Supplement  Ext 

ii.  23,   n.    Bilney ;   263,    4,   Cromwell, 

and  n. 
Penry,  John,  iii.  58.0,  Whitgift ;  595,  6,  do. 


INDEX. 


741 


Percy,  Henry  Algernon,  some  account  of, 
i.  500,  n.  Wolsey  ;  his  unhappy  marriage 
with  Mary  Talbot,  i.  535,  n.  Wolsey. 

Perth,  five  articles  of,  iv.  294,  Hall. 

Peter  the  hermit,  i.  87,  Inett. 

Peter-pence,  i.  136,  Inett,  and  n. ;  244, 
Wickliffe,  and  n. 

Pilgrimages;  whether  lawful,  &c.  i.  308— 
16,  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  to  St.  James  at  Com- 
postella,  &c.  i.  175,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  to 
Canterbury,  368,  9,  Cobham,  and  n. ;  371, 
do. ;  383,  do.  ;  ii.  483,  Latimer. 

Pilgrim,  true,  a  description  of,  i.  308,  9, 
Thorpe. 

Plague,  sweating  sickness,  &c.  i.  444,  5, 
Colet,  and  n. ;  ii.  116,  17,  More. 

Plays,  stage  ;  See  Stage  Plays. 

Pococke,  Dr.  Edward,  no  Latiner,  iv.  335,  6, 
n.  Hammond. 

Pole,  cardinal,  his  arrival  in  England  (1554), 
reconciles  the  realm,  ii.  307,  8,  Rogers. 

Polygamy,  iv.  641,  2,  Rochester. 

Polyglott,  bishop  Walton's,  iv.  249,  Ferrar, 
and  n. 

Ponet,  bishop,  quoted  in  n. ;  calamities  of 
England,  under  Q.  Mary,  ii.  345,  Rogers ; 
scarcity,  &c.  iii.  277,  Cranmer. 

Pope  of  Rome,  his  authority,  nature,  inci- 
dents, &c.  of;  supremacy,  vicar  of  Christ, 
i.  371,  Cobham ;  382,  3,  do.  ;  ecclesiastical 
jurisdiction  in  England,  alleged  to  be  de- 
rived from,  393,  4,  do. ;  renunciation  of, 
and  establishment  of  the  royal  supremacy, 
568— 70,  Wolsey, and  n.;  ii.131,2,  More; 
statute  of  premunire,  sir  Thomas  More, 
135,  6, do. ;  152,  do.  ;.ii.  308— 11,  Rogers; 
112 — 18,  Ridley  ;  his  usurped  power  may 
be  resumed,  i.  22—5,  Inett,  and  n. ;  iii. 
219 — 22,  Cranmer,  and  n. ;  Pasce  oves 
meas,  ii.  167 — 70,  More,  and  n. ;  the  king 
but  half  a  king  in  his  own  kingdom,  ii. 
233—35,  Cromwell;  iii.  219—21,  Cran- 
mer; oath  of  kings  to,  i.  91,  2,  Inett,  and 
n. ;  oath  of  bishops  and  clergy  to,  ii.  233, 4, 
Cromwell,  and  n. ;  Parliament  under  Q. 
Mary  will  not  restore  the  pope's  supre- 
macy unless  the  lands,  &c.  of  the  monas- 
teries may  be  retained,  247,  n.  Cromwell ; 
has  no  more  authority  in  England  than 
any  other  bishop ;  true  meaning  of  the 
royal  supremacy,  308 — 11,  Rogers,  n.  ; 
pretended  lord  of  the  world,  ii.  501,  2, 
Latimer ;  622,  3,  do. ;  625—9,  do. ;  has 
no  jurisdiction  in  the  realm  of  England, 
iii.  218 — 20,  Cranmer;  his  laws  contrary 
to  those  of  England,  221 — 9,  Cranmer, 
and  n. ;  and  to  the  Scriptures,  224,  do. ; 
225,  do. ;  241,  do. ;  Scriptures  and  doc- 
tors, testimonies  of,  for  his  supremacy, 
245,  do.;  the  papal  supremacy,  held  as 
an  article  of  faith,  iii.  24, 5,  Ridley ;  kissing 
the  pope's  toe,  iii.  139,  40,  Cranmer;  his 
claim  to  a  dispensing  power,  iii.  223,  4, 
Cranmer;  248,  do.  and  n.  See  also 
Appeals  to  Home;  Art.  XXXVII., 
Bishops'  Investiture,  Usurpations  Papal. 

,  whether  antichrist,  i.  358, 

Cobham ;  383,  do. ;  ii.  193,  Tindall ;  320, 
Rogers ;  328,  do. ;  ii.  628,  Latimer ;  iii. 


112,  13,  Ridley;  iii.  223—5,  Cranmer- 
iii.  387,  8,  Gilpin,  and  n. 

Popedom,  the  schisms  in,  i.  29,  30,  Inett 
and  n. ;  123,  do.;  209-11,  AVickliffe, 
and  n. 

Popery,  the  new  religion,  ii.  633,  Latimer, 
and  n. 

,  main  points  of,  ii.  583,  4,  Latimer, 

and  n. ;  iii.  56,  7,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  iv. 
507,  Baxter. 

,  doctrinal  corruptions  of,  i.  147 — 63, 

Bentley. 

,  usurpations  of,  in  church  and  state, 

i.  59—76,  Inett,  and  n. ;  132—46,  do. 
and  n. 

,  unwilling  to  reform  itself,  ii.  50, 

More  ;  iii.  95,  6,  n.  Ridley  ;  102,  n.  do. ; 
376,  Gilpin ;  438,  9,  do. 

,  promoted   by  puritan  violence,  iii. 

488,  n.  Hooker ;  iv.  n.  300,  Hall. 

Potter,  Dr.  Christopher,  quoted  in  n. ;  dis- 
claims the  charge  of  Arminianism,  iv. 
452 — 5,  n.  Sanderson. 

Poverty  of  Christ,  and  his  apostles ;  evan- 
gelical poverty;  i.  319— 23,Thorpe,and  n.; 
russet  gowns,  325,  do.  and  n. ;  327,  n.  do. 

Prayer,  the  earl  of  Rochester's  sincerity  in, 
iv.  668,  9. 

Prayer,  in  an  unknown  tongue ;  See  Service, 

,   Divine,  Art.  XXIV. 

for  the  dead,  iii.  431,  Gilpin. 

,  special,  by  the  monks,  &c.  i.  216,  n. 

Wickliffe. 

,  extemporary,  and  the  Book  of  Com- 
mon Prayer,  iv.  369,  70,  and  n.  Hammond ; 
460,  1,  Sanderson. 

Preachers  and  preaching,  K.  James's  direc- 
tions respecting,  iii.  661,  2,  Donne,  and 
n. ;  iv.  334,  n.  Hammond ;  422,  Sanderson. 

,  scarcity  of,  under  K.  Edward  VI. 

Q.  Elizabeth,  &c.  iii.  400,  1,  Gilpin ;  402, 
n.  do;  preaching,  extemporary,  iii.  365, 
n. ;  Jewel ;  iv.  335,  6,  Hammond,  and 
n. ;  718,  Tillotson,  and  n. 

,  historical  particulars  respecting; 
seldom  on  the  Scriptures  ;  Lent  sermons, 
&c.  i.  437 — 41,  Colet,  and  n.;  Latimer 
too  much  exceeds  in  length,  ii.  489,  90, 
Latimer ;  frequent  length  of  sermons, 
593,  4,  do.  and  n. ;  whether  Jewel  preached 
extempore,  iii.  365,  Jewel ;  Whitgift's,  iii. 
608,  9,  Whitgift ;  during  the  usurpation  ; 
Pococke  no  Latiner,  iv.  335,  6,  Hammond, 
and  n.  ;  Sanderson  from  timidity  reads 
his  sermons,  iv.  429,  Sanderson  ;  at  Ham- 
mond's request,  Sanderson  preaches  with- 
out book,  449,  do. 

Predestinarian  controversy,  the  five  points, 
&c.  Ridley,  Bradford,  Harry  Hart,  &c. 
iii.  65,  6,  Ridley's  wise  moderation  re- 
specting 73,  n.  do.  ;  predestination  is  not 
absolute,  but  conditional,  iii.  511,  Hooker; 
"Christian  Letter"  to  Hooker,  523,  n. 
do. ;  Perkins  and  Arminius,  iv.  100,  1, 
Wotton  ;  rise  of  this  controversy  in  Eng- 
land, 297,  8,  Hall,  and  n. ;  Henry  More 
in  the  Eton  play-fields,  332,  3,  n.  Ham- 
mond ;  K.  James's  letters  concerning 
theological  studies,  422,  and  n.,  Sanderson ; 


742 


INDEX. 


Sanderson's  change  in  sentiments  re- 
specting, 430 — 2,  n.  do. ;  Hammond, 
Sanderson,  Usher,  Dr.  Christopher  Potter, 
&c.  450 — 5,  do. ;  not  proper  subjects  for 
the  pulpit,  461,  do.  ;  Sanderson's  Pax 
Ecclesiae,  481—4,  do.  See  also  Preacher. 

Premunire,  Provisors,  Mortmain,  &c.  Sta- 
tutes of,  i.  145,  Inett,  and  n. ;  595,  G,  Wol- 
sey,  620,  do.;  the  clergy  fall  under,  ii. 
235,  6,  Cromwell,  and  n. ;  215,  Tindall ; 
iii.  221,  2,  Cranmer;  227,  do. 

Presbyterians  and  Independents,  iv.  347,  8, 
Hammond  ;  the  former  supplanted  by  the 
latter,  469,  Sanderson. 

Presence,  the  real,  in  the  eucharist,  in  what 
sense  maintained  by  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, ii.  578,  9,  Latimer;  638—40,  do. 
See  Eucharist. 

Priest,  confession,  private,  to ;  See  Confession. 

Priest  and  minister,  names  of,  ii.  599,  600, 
Latimer,  and  n. 

Priests'  Marriages ;  See  Marriages. 

Printing,  influence  of,  in  the  Reformation, 
i.  405 — 13,  Supplem.  Extracts,  and  n.  ; 
427,  do. 

Prisons,  &c.,  chaplains  desirable  for,  iii. 
289,  n.  Mountain. 

Private  judgment,  i.  291,  2,  Thorpe,  and  n. ; 
ii.  319,  20,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  349,  50,  do. 
and  n. ;  366,  7,  Hooper,  and  n. ;  449,  50, 
Latimer,  and  n. 

Privy  chamber,  gentlemen  of  the,  their 
duties,  &c.  i.  641,  2,  n.  Wolsey. 

Procession  and  perambulation  days,  iii.  526, 
7,  Hooker,  and  n. 

Prophesyings,  exercise  of,  iii.  582,  Whit- 
gift. 

Prosperity  no  mark  of  the  true  church,  ii. 
333,  4,  Rogers ;  339—47,  do. ;  ii.  467— 
79,  Latimer. 

Protestant  religion,  where  before  Luther ; 
See  Lutlier. 

Protestant,  name  of,  i.  417,  n.  Supplem. 
Extracts ;  known  true  men,  420,  do. ;  a 
term  of  reproach,  "  call  me  Protestant, 
who  list,"  ii.  637,  Latimer,  and  n. 

Protestants,  pleas  and  excuses  for  their 
apostasy  under  Q.  Mary,  iii.  32,  3,  Rid- 
ley; 56,  7,  do.;  Ill,  12,  and  n. ;  115— 
17,  n.  do. 

Provision  of  benefices ;  See  Benefices,  reser- 
vation of. 

Psalms,  the  book  of,  its  beauty,  &c.  iv.  461, 
Sanderson,  and  n. ;  479,  80,  do. ;  recited 
in  a  night  entire,  by  the  Ferrar  family, 
211,  Ferrar. 

,  the  seven  penitential,  ii.  66,  More, 
and  n. 

,  the  fifteen  gradual,  ii.  66,  More, 

and  n. 

Purgatory,  doctrine  of;  its  origin,  i.  155,  6, 
Bentley  ;  whether  any,  361,  Cobham,  and 
n. ;  proofs  of,  ii.  21*7,  Tindall,  and  n. ; 
arguments  against,  484 — 7,  Latimer;  not 
to  be  obtruded  as  a  necessary  article  of 
faith,  iii.  431,  Gilpin. 

Purification  of  women,  ii.  461,  Latimer. 
Puritan  controversy,  Puritans,  &c. ;  Rogers 
refuses  the  cap,  &c.  ii.  349,  50,  Rogers,  and 


n. ;  Cranmer  and  Ridley  against  Hooper, 
363,  4,  Hooper,  and  n. ;  Origin  and  pro- 
gress of  the  controversy,  366 — 76,  do.  and 
n. ;  Ridley's  conduct  at  his  degrading, 
666,  Latimer,  and  n. ;  Frankfort  trou- 
bles, iii.  84,  5,  n.  Ridley;  iii.  345,  6, 
n.  Jewel;  Cartwright,  &c.  357,  do.; 
Jewel  no  favourer  of,  366,  n.  do.;  they 
slight  the  authority  of  the  Fathers,  iii. 
411,  Gilpin,  and  n.;  character  of  those 
times,  480—5,  Hooker,  and  n. ;  diffi- 
culties which  the  queen  and  bishops  had 
to  encounter,  486 — 9,  n.  Hooker  ;  George 
Cranmer's  letter  to  Hooker,  540—53, 
Hooker ;  dean  Hutton's  account  of,  and 
arguments  against,  541 — 4,  n.  do. ;  Cart- 
wright,  general  account  of,  567 — 74.  Whit- 
gift  ;  Whitgift's  difficulties  from  this  con- 
troversy, 583 — 7,  do. ;  state  of,  at  the 
accession  of  K.  James  I.  624 — 7,  do. ; 
Popery  promoted  by  their  violence,  iii. 
480,  n.  Hooker ;  iv.  300,  n.  Hall ;  they 
symbolize  with  papists,  iii.  573,  Hooker, 
and  n. 

Puritans,  their  pamphlets,  libels,  &c.  scur- 
rility, &c.  of;  iii.  486,  7,  Hooker,  and  n. ; 
Tom  Nash,  &c.  502,  do.  and  n. ;  545, 
do. ;  572,  Whitgift;  589,  90,  do.  and  n. ; 
their  special  activity  at  the  crisis  of  the 
Spanish  armada  in  1588,  595,  6,  do. 

Purvey,  John,  i.  277—9,  Thorpe. 

,  a  MS.  of,  latelv  printed  by 

Rev.  J.  Forshall,  i.  278,  n.  Thorpe. 


Q. 


QUEEN  MARY,  see  Mary,  Queen. 
Quinquarticular  controversy,  see  Predesti- 
narian  controversy. 


R. 


RATIFICATION  of  a  treaty  of  peace  between 
Henry  VIII.,  Francis  I.,  and  the  emperor, 
description  of,  i.  541,  Wolsey. 

Rebellion  in  the  North,  iii.  409,  10,  Gilpin. 

Recantation  (pretended)  of  Wickliffe,  i.  21 1 , 
12,  Wickliffe  ;  of  lord  Cobham,  392—6, 
Cobham,  n. ;  of  Bilney,  ii.  34—6 ;  of 
Hooper,  385—8,  Hooper,  and  n. ;  of  others, 
iii.  62,  3,  Cranmer ;  Cranmer's  recanta- 
tion, 263—81,  do. 

Recusant,  name  of,  iii.  327,  8,  n.  Jewel. 

Redemption,  universal,  Usher,  &c.  iv.  450 
—5,  and  n.  Sanderson.  See  also  Predes- 
tinarian  controversy. 

Redman,  Dr.  John,  and  Latimer,  ii.  462 — 4, 
Latimer ;  and  Gilpin,  iii.  413,  14,  Gilpin  ; 
his  judgment  in  favour  of  priests'  mar- 
riages, ii.  336,  7,  Rogers. 

Reformation,  necessity  of,  i.  167— #0,  Wick- 
liffe,  and  n. ;  bishop  Fisher's  wishes  for, 
426,  Supplem.  Extracts;  abuses  in,  160— 
3,  Bentley ;  promised  by  the  papists,  but 
not  performed,  ii.  300, 1,  Cromwell ;  iii. 


INDEX. 


743 


417,  18,  Gilpin,  and  n. ;  origin  and  pro- 
gress of,  i.  167—86,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ; 
monasteries,  dissolution'of,  i.  555,  6,  Wol- 
sey,  and  n. ;  royal  supremacy,  568 — 70,  do. 
and  n. ;  Bertram  on  Eucharist,  ii.  583,  4, 
Latimer,  and  n. ;  main  points  of  contro- 
versy in  the  English  Reformation,  ii.  583, 
4,  Latimer,  and  n. ;  iii.  65,  6,  Ridley, 
and  n. ;  i.  429,  30,  Supplem.  Extracts ; 
reproached  as  given  to  repeated  innova- 
tions, ii.  605,  Latimer,  and  n. 

Reformers,  meetings  of,  in  the  woods  and 
fields,  &c.  for  reading,  &c.  i.  418,  19,  Sup- 
plem. Extracts  ;  punished  for  hiding  their 
marks,  hrands,  &c.  423,  4,  do.  ;  com- 
mitted for  penance  to  monasteries,  422, 
do. ;  pleas  and  excuses  for  apostasy  under 
Q.  Mary,  iii.  32,  3,  n.  Ridley,  56,  7,  do. : 
111,  12,  do.  and  n. ;  115—17,  n.  do.  See 
also  Heretics,  Martyrs,  Faggots. 

Religion,  corrupted  state  of,  before  the  Re- 
formation, i.  170—80,  Wickliffe,  and  n. 

,  natural,  iv.  625 — 31,  Rochester. 

,  revealed,  iv.  631—44,  Rochester. 

,  parliamentary,  i.  21,  Inett ;  iv. 

695,  Tillotson. 

Religious  orders ;  See  Friars,  Monasteries, 
Monachism. 

Renee,  madame,  proposed  marriage  be- 
tween,  and  Henry  VIII.  i.  536,  n. 
Wolsey. 

Re-ordination  of  non-conformist  ministers, 
iv.  707,  Tillotson. 

Repentance,  death-bed,  iv.  654 — 6,  Ro- 
chester. 

,  the  earl  of  Rochester's,  falsely  at- 
tributed to  delirium,  iv.  672, 3,  Rochester. 

Repington,  bishop,  i.  227—36,  Wickliffe ; 
277,  Thorpe. 

Reservation  of  benefices;  See  Benefices. 

Resignation,  duty  of,  iv.  388—90,  Ham- 
mond, and  n. ;  393,  do. 

Resistance,  doctrine  of;  obey  God,  rather 
than  man,  ii.  595,  Latimer,  and  n. ;  iii. 
53—7,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  294,  Mountain, 
and  n. ;  Tillotson's  letter  to  lord  William 
Russell,  iv.  694—6. 

Restitution,  instances  of,  ii.  543, 4,  Latimer, 
and  n. 

Restoration  of  K.  Charles  II.  iv.  394,  5, 
Hammond  ;  395,  6,  do.;  402,  do. ;  464,  5, 
Sanderson ;  iv.  547,  8,  Hale ;  555,  6, 
do. ;  dissipation  which  followed,  608,  9, 
Rochester. 

Revolution  in  1688,  iv.  702,  Tillotson. 

Reynolds,  Dr.  John,  his  conference  with 
Hart ;  the  two  brothers,  John  and  Wil- 
liam Reynolds,  interchangeably  convert 
one  another,  iii.  466,  n.  Hooker. 

,  and  his  brother  Wil- 
liam, curious  results  of  a  religious  contest 
between  them,  iii.  466,  n.  Hooker. 

Ridley,  bishop,  Life,  &c.  iii.  1—128 ;  his  dis- 
putation at  Oxford,  April  1557,  ii.  548 — 
58,  Latimer;  567 — 90,  do.;  Examination, 
&c.  at  Oxford,  Sept.  1555,  620—41,  do. ; 
650—9,  do  ;  his  moderation,  iii.  65,  6, 
Ridley  ;  73,  n.  do. 

Rochester,  earl  of,  Life,  &c.  iv.  599—676; 


extract  from  Parsons'  funeral  sermon  on, 
646—51,  n.  do. 

Rochester,  John,  earl  of,  his  father's  de- 
scent, iv.  607,  n.  Rochester;  account  of 
Anne,  his  mother,  iv.  606,  7,  do. 

-,  corrupted   at  court,  iv.  609,   n. 


Rochester. 

,  his  family,  iv.  646,  n.  Rochester. 

Rogers,  John,  Life,  &c.  ii.  303—^3. 
Rome,  church  of;    See  Church  of  Home, 

Popery. 
Rood,    and    rood-loft,    iii.    233,   Cranmer, 

and  n. 

Rood  of  grace,  ii.  282,  n.  Cromwell. 
Roper,  Margaret,  ii.  115 — 19,  More;  146 

57,  do.;  171— 5,  do. 

,  William,  ii.  119—21,  More. 

Russell,  lord  William,  and  Tillotson,  iv.  694 

—6,  Tillotson. 

,  sir  John,  a  plot  to  seize  him  dis- 
covered by  Thomas  Cromwell,  ii.  232,  n. 

Cromwell. 
Rye,  the  manor  of,  i,  617,  n.  Wolsey. 


S. 


SACRAMENT,  a ;  nature,  definition,  and  inci- 
dents of,  ii.  257—9,  Cromwell ;  563—7, 
Latimer  ;  seven  sacraments,  252,  3,  Crom- 
well ;  the  name,  of  general  application, 
iii.  430,  Gilpin,  and  n.  ;  are  signs  exhi- 
bitive,  ii.  648,  Latimer  ;  not  bare  figures, 
iii.  21,  Ridley. 

Sacrifice  of  the  mass,  ii.  552,  Latimer ;  566, 
7,  do.;  584—9,  do.;  591—3,  do.;  See 
also  Art.  XXXI. 

,  bloody  and  unbloody,  ii.  588, 

Latimer ;  640,  do.  and  n. 

Saints,  prayer  to,  i,  151,  2,  Bentley ;  ii. 
18,  Bilney,  and  n. ;  482,  Latimer ;  iii. 
431,  2,  Gilpin. 

,  reign  of,  on  earth,  iv.  547,  Hale. 

Salisbury  use,  i.  315,  16,  n.  Thorpe. 

Suactuaries,  use  and  abuse  of,  i.  397,  Cob- 
ham,  and  n. 

Sanderson,  bishop,  Life,  &c.  iv.  409—88. 

Sandys,  archbishop,  iii.  403,  4,  Gilpin ;  419, 
20,  do. ;  sends  his  son  Edwin  a  pupil  to 
Hooker,  467,  8,  Hooker. 

,  sir  Edwin,  quoted  in  n. ;  Lent,  in 

Italy,  i.  177,  8,  Wickliffe  ;  Romish  com- 
petition against,  and  counteraction  of, 
Protestantism,  411—13,  Supplem.  Ex- 
tracts; popery,  an  obstacle  to  the  con- 
version of  Jews,  &c.  ii.  17,  Bilney ; 
Papal  news,  falsely  spread,  386,  7,  Hooper. 

Saravia,  Dr.  Hadrian,  a  friend  of  Hooker, 
iii.  523,  4,  Hooker ;  531,  2,  do. 

Satan,  loosing  of,  i.  186,  7,  Wickliffe,  and 
n. ;  300,  Thorpe,  and  n. 

Satires,  &c.  the  earl  of  Rochester's  talent  in 
composing,  iv.  669,  70,  n.  Rochester; 
many  falsely  attributed  to  him,  do. 

Savoy  conference,  iv.  470—2,  Sanderson, 
and  n. 

Sawtrey,  William,  often  said  to  be  the  first 
that  was  burnt  for  heresy,  in  England,  i. 
254,  n.  Wickliffe  ;  274,  Thorpe. 


744 


INDEX. 


Scala  cceli,  ii.  228,  Cromwell,  and  n. 
Latimer.  and  n. 


485,6, 


Schism,  nature,  &c.  of,  iii.  30,  1,  Ridley; 
35—7,  do. ;  223,  Cranmer ;  238,  9,  do. ; 
charge  of,  against  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, groundless,  i.  7,  Inett,  and  n. ;  iii. 
130,  Cranmer ;  316,  Jewel ;  442,  Hooker. 
Schisms  in  the  church  of  Rome ;  See  Church 

of  Rome. 
Scholar,  the  king's,  ii.  254,  Cromwell,  and 

n. ;  iii.  178,  n.  Cranmer. 
Schoolmen,  their  prevalence,  authority,  &c. 
i.  171,  Wickliffe;  437,  Colet,  and  n. ;  ii. 
52,  n.  More ;  448,  9,  Latimer,  and  n. ; 
464—6,  n.  do. 

Schools,  grammar ;  St.  Paul's,  i.  442 — 4, 
Colet;  iii.  402,  Gilpin  ;  whether  the  sons 
of  gentlemen  only  are  to  be  admitted,  iii. 
459,  60,  Hooker. 

Scriptures,  Holy,  neglect  of,  i.  171,  Wick- 
liffe ;  lectures  on,  set  up  in  cathedrals, 
universities,  &c.  437,  Colet,  and  n. ;  ii.  52; 
More,  and  n. ;  349,  Rogers ;  448,  9, 
Latimer,  and  n. ;  598,  n.  do. ;  iii.  1 32, 
Cranmer. 

,  sufficiency  of,  as  a  rule  of  faith, 

ii.  255,  6,  Cromwell. 

,  disparaged   by  papists,   &c. ;   in 

comparison  with  the  canon  law,  ii.  193, 
Tindall,  and  n. ;  259,  Cromwell,  and 
n. ;  in  comparison  of  the  rule  of  the  reli- 
gious orders,  246,  n.  Cromwell ;  a  dead 
letter,  a  nose  of  wax,  &c.  314—16,  Ro- 
gers, and  n. ;  traditions  made  equal  to,  iii. 
385,  6,  Gilpin. 

,  chapters,  &c.  for  domestic  use, 

iii.  6,  Ridley,  and  n. ;  iv.  204—6,  Ferrar, 
and  n. ;  369*,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  479.  80, 
Sanderson. 

,  chapters  used  by  the  martyrs,  ii. 

41,Bilney;  351,  2,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  iii. 
50,  1,  n.  Ridley. 

,  avidity  with  which  they  were 

received,  when  first  translated,  &c.  ii. 
203,  4,  n.  Tindall;  297,  n.  Cromwell;  iii. 
564,  n.  Whitgift. 

Selden's,  John,  library  given  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  iv.  580,  1,  Hale. 
Sequestration  of  divines,  ordinance  for,  iv. 

320—3,  Hall. 

Service,  divine,  daily  in  churches,  iv.  40, 
Herbert ;  336,  Hammond. 

,  in   an   unknown   tongue,  i. 

149,  Bentley,  and  n. ;  165.  n.  Thorpe;  ii. 
313,  Rogers,  and  n. ;  iii.  76,  Ridley,  and 
n.;  94 — 6,  do.  and  n.;  246, Cranmer.  See 
also  Art.  XXI V. 
Singing  men,  cardinal  Wolsey's,  i.  485,  n. 

Wolsey. 

Sins,  the  seven  deadly,  i.  309,  n.  Thorpe. 
Sir,    (dominus,)    usage    of,    i.    397,   »,    n. 

Cobham. 
Sir  John,  sir  John  Lack-latin,  &c.,  names 

of  reproach,  i.  392,  Cobham,  and  n. 
Smith,  Dr.  Richard,  recants  under  K.  Ed- 
ward VI.  ii.  567,  8,  Latimer,  and  n.;  674, 
do.;  iii.  120,  Ridley. 

Socinianism,  charge  of,  against  Tillotson,  iv. 
683—5,  Tillotson. 


Southey's  Book  of  the  Church,  referred  to, 
and  commended,  i.  34,  n.  Inett. 

.,  quoted  in  n.     England  not 


indebted  to  popery  for  Magna  Charta,  i. 
110,  Inett. 

Southwell  cum  Scrooby,  soke  or  liberty  of, 
described,  i.  615,  n.  Wolsey. 

Spain,    Ferrar's    travels    in,    iv.    147 — 52, 
Ferrar. 

Spalato,  archbishop  of,  his  shiftings  in  reli- 
gion, iv.  93,  4,  Wotton,  and  n. 

Spanish    match,    the,     iv.    298,    9,    Hall, 
and  n. 

,  Dona  Maria  offered  to  prince 


Charles,  iv.  163,  n.  Ferrar. 
Stafford,  George,   the  reformer,  Latimer's 

violent  zeal  against,  ii.  452,  3,  Latimer, 

and  n. 
Stage  plays,  acted  in  the  universities,  ii.  51, 

More,  and  n. ;  injurious  effects  of  seeing, 

iv.  532—4,  Hale,  and  n. 
Staveley's  History  of  Churches,  quoted  in  n. 

the   greater  curse,  form   of,  i.  219 — 21, 

Wickliffe. 
Stevens,   Dr.,   (bishop  Gardiner,)  i.    557, 

Wolsey,  and  n. 
Stewart,  Arabella,   James  I.'s  jealousy  of 

her,  iv.  15,  n.  Herbert. 
Still  ingfleet,   bishop,  and  Wilmot,  earl   of 

Rochester,  anecdote  of,  iv.  614,  15,  n. 

Rochester. 

Subscription  to  the  39  Articles,  nature,  his- 
tory, &c.  of,  iii.  357,  Jewel :  420,  Gilpin  ; 

421,  do.  and  n. ;  584—7,  Whitgift. 
Sufferers  under  Q.  Mary,  distribution  and 

classification  of,  iii.  78,  9,  Ridley,  and  n. 
Suffolk,  duchess  of,  some  account  of  the, 

ii.  29,  n.  Bilney. 
Superaltare,  what,  ii.  282,  Cromwell,  and 

n. ;  490,  Taylor,  and  n. 
Supremacy,  regal  and  papal;  See  Pope  of 

Rome,  authority,  fyc.  of. 
Supplementary  Extracts,  i.  403—32. 
Swearing,  lawfulness,  &c.  of;  See  Oaths. 
,  profane,  prevalence  of,  before  the 

Reformation,  i.  330—3,  Thorpe,  and  n. ; 

sinful  habit  of,  iv.  658,  9,  Rochester. 
Sweating  sickness,  the,  i.  444,  5,  Colet,  and 

n. ;  ii.  116,  17,  More,  and  n. 
Synods,   diocesan    and    provincial,   i.    133, 

'Inett;  138,  9,  do. ;  453,  4,  n.  Colet. 


T. 


TAYLOR,    Dr.     Rowland,    Life,     &c.    ii. 

405—43. 
Tempest,  sir  Richard,  notice  of,  i.  629,  n. 

Wolsey. 
Tertullian  adv.  Marc,  quoted,  iii.   19,   n. 

Ridley. 
Texts  of  Scripture,  in  churches,  houses,  &c. 

^'•rijitures. 
Theobald,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  i.  30, 

Iiirtt. 
Thirlby,  bishop,  character,  \r.  of,  iii.  252,  3, 

Cranmrr. 
Thomas,  William,  his  endeavour  to  obtain 


INDEX. 


745 


the  grant  of  a  prebend  at  St.  Paul's,  iii. 
77,  n.  Ridley. 

Thomas,  William,  quoted  in  n. ;  castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  i.  408,  Supplem.  Extracts; 
papal  and  regal  supremacy,  568 — 70,  Wol- 
sey; trial,  execution,  &c.  of  More  and 
Fisher,  ii.  147,  8,  More;  monasteries, 
visitation,  dissolution,  &c.  of,  242,  3, 
Cromwell ;  blood  of  Hailes,  283,  do.  ; 
Pope's  procession  to  St.  Peter's,  on  Christ- 
mas day,  321,  Rogers;  description  of  the 
princess  Mary,  afterwards  queen,  iii.  11, 
Ridley ;  description  of  Edward  VI.  at  his 
accession,  200,  n.  do. 
Tillotson,  archbishop,  Life,  &c.  iv.  677— 

726. 

Tindall,  William,  Life,  &c.  ii.  187—218; 
his  obedience  of  a  Christian  Man,  199 — 
201,  do.  and  n. 

,  quoted  in  n. ;  the  cardinal's  hat,  i. 
482,  Wolsey  ;  Englishmen's  want  of  skill 
in  diplomacy,  518,  do. ;  Scriptures,  neg- 
lect of  in  the  universities,  ii.  448 — 51, 
Latimer ;  the  blood  of  Christ,  its  po- 
tency, 463,  do.  ;  a  good  intent ;  a  good 
zeal,  beware  of,  477,  do.;  pope's  indul- 
gences grounded  on  purgatory,  486,  do. ; 
baptism,  termed  volowing, iii.  52,  Ridley; 
clergy,  their  ignorance,  96,  n.  do. ;  I  will 
believe  as  my  fathers  did,  and  as  my 
priest  teaches,  112,  n.  do. ;  monks  of  Sion, 
and  nuns  of  Shene,  290,  n.  Mountain; 
confession  private,  often  delayed  for  many 
years,  ii.  264,  Cromwell. 
Tironius,  rule  of,  iii.  39,  n.  Ridley. 
Tithes,  right  to,  Wickliffe's,  Thorpe's,  &c. 
opinions  respecting,  i.  316 — 27,  Thorpe, 
and  n. 

are  pure  alms;  See  Eleemosynam. 

Todd,  Dr.  J.  H.,  his  publication  of  Wick- 

liflVs  MS.  i.  168,  n.  Wickliffe. 
Ton  stall,  bishop,  iii.  389—93,  Gilpin ;  395, 

do. ;  421,  do. 

Tower,  discrepancies  concerning  the  time 
of  Cranmer,  Latirner,  and  Ridley  leaving 
the,  iii.  9,  n.  Ridley. 

Traditions,  unwritten,  their  authority,  &c. 
ii.  259,  Cromwell,  and  n. ;  made  equal 
to  Scripture,  by  the  council  of  Trent,  iii. 
385,  6,  n.  Gilpin. 

Transubstantiation,  doctrine,  &c.  of,  i.  158, 
Bentley ;  accidents  without  subject,  i. 
186,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  Oxford '  decree 
for  (1380),  211, 12,  do.  and  n. ;  does  ma- 
terial bread  remain  after  consecration  ? 
i.  185,  Wickliffe,  and  n.;  293—301, 
Thorpe,  and  n. ;  369,  Cobham ;  371,  do.; 
374 — 6,  do. ;  putting  off  the  cap,  in  wor- 
ship of  the  elements,  ii.  321,  2,  Rogers, 
and  n. ;  novelty  of,  i.  212,  n.  Wickliffe; 
300,  1,  Thorpe,  and  n. ;  iii.  395,  6,  Gil- 
pin  ;  429,  do. 

Travel,  foreign;  More,  &c.  in  France,  to 
learn  the  language,  &c.  ii.  52,  3,  More ; 
Ferrar's,  iv.  44,  5,  Herbert;  132—53, 
Ferrar;  sir  Henry  Wotton's,  77,  8, 
Wotton. 

Travers,  Walter,  and  Hooker,  competitors 
for  the  mastership  of  the  Temple,  iii. 

VOL.    IV. 


476 — 80,    Hooker;    their    controversies, 
501—17,  do. 

Trent,  council  of,  its  new  rule  of  faith,  ren- 
ders reconciliation  impossible,  iii.  102,  n. 
Ridley ;  385—7,  Gilpin,  and  n. ;  388,  9, 
do. ;  423,  do. ;  Father  Paul's  history  of, 
iv.  89,  Wotton. 

Trentals,  i.  216,  n.  Wickliffe. 

Trinity,  the  Holy,  iv.  639—41,  Rochester; 
721,  2,  Tillotson ;  pictures,  images,  &c.  of, 
i.  303,  Thorpe ;  308,  do.  and  n. 

Twisden,  sir  Roger,  new  edition  of  his  Vin- 
dication, recommended,  i.  155,  Bentley. 
,  quoted  in  n. ;  British  Church,  its  in- 


dependence of  Rome,  i.  18,  Inett ;  ap- 
pointment of  bishops,  35,  6,  do. ;  exemp- 
tion of  monasteries  from  ordinary  juris- 
diction, ill  effects  of,  74,  5,  do. ;  spiritual 
jurisdiction,  nature  and  kinds  of,  126,  do. ; 
legates,  different  kinds  of,  and  their  uses 
to  the  papacy,  137,  8,  do. ;  transubstun- 
tiation,  a  very  modern  tenet,  i.  212,  Wick- 
liffe ;  the  punishment  for  heresy,  by  the 
common  law  of  England,  was  death  by 
fire,  222,  do. ;  Peter-pence,  244,  do. ;  the 
Pope  gives  what  he  can  neither  keep  nor 
sell,  154,  Bentley;  laws  and  oath  against 
Lollardy,  273,  4,  Thorpe  ;  heretics,  burn- 
ing of,  ii.  330,  1 ,  Rogers ;  papal  infallibi- 
lity, origin  of  the  doctrine,  603,  4,  Lati- 
mer ;  succession  and  visibility  of  the 
Church,  iv.  299,  Hall. 
Tytler,  quoted  on  the  characters  of  queen 
Mary  and  queen  Elizabeth,  iii.  12,  n. 
Ridley ;  his  account  of  the  interim,  iii. 
31,  2,  do. 


U  &  V. 


VALDESSO,  JOHN, iv.  47,  8,  Herbert;  197,8, 

Ferrar. 
Vaidcsso,  notice  of  his  "  Considerations,"  iv. 

47,  n.  Herbert. 
Valois,  Margaret  de,  account  of,  i.  528,  n. 

Wolsey. 

Udall,  John,  iii.  589,  Whitgift;  594,  5,  do. 
Venom  poured  on  the  Church  ;   Constan- 
tino's dotation,  i.  379,  80,  Cobham,  and  n. 
Vicarages,  poverty  of,  iii.  372,  Jewel,  and  n. ; 

400, 1,  Gilpin;  Whitgift  to  Q.  Elizabeth, 

496,  Hooker. 
Vice-gerent,    and    Vicar-general,    ii.    236, 

Cromwell. 
Virgin  Mary,  worship  of,  ii.  481,  Latimer; 

482,  do. ;  iii.  416,  17,  Gilpin,  and  n. 
Virginia  Company,  the,  Arthur  Woodnorth's 

"  Remarkable  Passages"  concerning,  iv. 

179,  n.  Ferrar. 
Virtues,   the    seven    principal,   i.    30.0,   n. 

Thorpe. 

Vision,  Dr.  Donne's,  iii.  648—50,  Donne. 
Visitation,  the  royal,  at  the  beginning  of  <J- 

Elizabeth's  reign, iii. 349,  Jewel;  4l!».  -Jo. 

Gilpin. 
of  the  university  of  Oxford.  Iv. 

349,  50,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  441—3,  San 

derson. 

3c 


746 


INDEX. 


Unity  and  universality  in  religion,  value  of, 
iii.  36,  7,  Ridley. 

Universities,  visitation  of,  under  Q.  Mary, 
iii.  565,  Whitgift;  in  the  great  rebellion, 
iv.  349,  50,  Hammond,  and  n. ;  441—3, 
Sanderson. 

• ,  their  diet,  study,  &c.  under  K. 

Henry  VIII.  &c.  ii.  82,  3,  More,  and  n. 

,  common  prayer  may  be  used  in, 

in  Latin,  ii.  314,  n.  Rogers. 

,  decay  of,  at  the  Reformation, 

iii.  153,  4,  Cranmer,  and  n. ;  336,  7,  n. 
Jewel;  390,  n.  Gil  pin. 

,  exhibitions  to  poor  scholars, 

iii.  336,  7,  Jewel,  and  n. 

,  K.  James's  directions  to,  for 

their  studies,  preaching,  &c.  iii.  661,  2, 
Donne,  and  n. ;  iv.  334,  Hammond,  and 
n. ;  422,  Sanderson. 

Volowing,  baptism  so  termed,  iii.  52,  n. 
Ridley. 

Vow  of  chastity,  iv.  255,  n.  Ferrar. 

Usher,  archbishop,  his  directions  for  preach- 
ing, i.  438,  9,  n.  Colet ;  alteration  in 
judgment,  respecting  Calvinistic  predes- 
tination, &c.  iv.  451,  2,  n.  Sanderson. 

Usurpers,  submission  to,  iv.  543 — 5,  Hale. 


W. 


WADSWORTH,  Rev.  James,  a  convert  to 
popery,  iv.  103,  4,  Wotton,  and  n. 

Walpole,  Horace,  his  unjust  estimate  of 
the  earl  of  Rochester's  character,  iv.  670, 
n.  Rochester. 

Walsingham,  our  Lady  of,i.  306,  n.  Thorpe  ; 
385,  n.  Cobham ;  ii.  83,  n.  More. 

Walton,  bishop,  his  Polyglott,  iv.  378, Ham- 
mond. 

War,  whether  lawful  to  Christians,  i.  456,  7, 
Colet,  and  n. 

Wharton,  Henry,  quoted  in  n. ;  "Becket," 
not  "a  Becket,"  i.  31,  Inett;  Wickliffe's 
works,  168,  Wickliffe;  mendicant  orders, 
character  of,  181,  do. ;  character  of  Wick- 
liffe, 242,  3,  do. ;  character  of  John  Bale, 
353,  Thorpe;  archbishop  Sudbury,  369, 
Cobham  ;  sermons  in  Lent,  438,  Colet ; 
monasteries,  sundry  particulars  respecting, 
ii.  238—40,  Cromwell ;  priests  and  their 
concubines,  332,  3,  Rogers ;  different 
treatment  of  the  married  clergy,  according 
as  they  were  regulars,  or  seculars,  338,  n.' 
do. ;  non-conformity  of  Hooper,  368,  9, 
Hooper ;  Golden  Legend,  iii.  426,  Gilpin. 

Whip,  discipline  of,  Henry  II.  said  to  have 
submitted  to,  i.  58,  Inett. 

Whitgift,arch  bishop,  Life,  &c.  iii.  555—629 ; 
character,  &c.  of,  iii.  491—501,  Hooker; 
vincit  qui  patitur,  540,  do. ;  575,  Whit- 
gift. 

Whole  Duty  of  Man ;  See  Man. 

Wickliffe,  John,  Life,  &c.  i.  165—258 ;  en- 
comium ou,  169,  n.  Wickliffe ;  encomium 
on  him,  and  on  his  followers,  their  life, 
teaching,  &c.  279,  80,  Thorpe;  378,  9, 


Cobham ;  his  doctrines  in  Bohemia,  251 
—3,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  663,  Wolsey;  his 
sentiments  respecting  the  eucharist,  211, 
12,  Wickliffe,  and  n. ;  respecting  the  royal 
authority  in  causes  ecclesiastical,  194 — 7, 
do.  and  n. ;  211,  12,  do.;  progress  of  his 
doctrines,  250 — 3,  do.  and  n. 

Wickliffe,  quoted  in  n. ;  certain  opinions  of, 
explained  and  vindicated,  i.  194—6,  Wick- 
liffe; 204—8,  do.;  214,  15,  do.;  the 
greater  curse,  and  the  less,  218,  19 ;  re- 
spect for  the  Fathers,  270,  Thorpe;  church 
music,  Salisbury  use,  315,  16,  do. ;  evan- 
gelical poverty,  321,  do.;  tithes,  oaths, 
&c.  329—32,  do.  ;  false  teaching  of  the 
clergy,  not  to  be  followed,  333,  do. ;  sanc- 
tuaries, 397,  Cobham ;  friars'  rule,  pre- 
ferred above  the  Scriptures,  ii.  245,  6, 
Cromwell. 

Wilkins,  bishop,  his  character,  &c.  iv.  553 
—5,  Hale  ;  558,  do.  ;  692—4,  Tillotson  ; 
716,  17,  do. 

Will,  last,  and  testament ;  Donne's,  iii. 
672,  3,  Donne ;  Herbert's,  iv.  52 ;  Wot- 
ton's,  107,  8;  Hammond's,  399;  San- 
derson's, 475 — 7. 

Williams,  archbishop,  his  visits  to  the  Fer- 
rar family;  1631,  iv.  185,  6,  Ferrar; 
1634,  187,  do. ;  210,  do. ;  255,  do. ;  257, 8, 
do. 

;   tables  and  altars; 

Holy  table,  name,  and  thing,  iv.  259,  n. 
Ferrar. 

,  draws  up  a  protest  against 

the  acts  of  the  Long  Parliament,  iv.  309 
—11,  Hall. 

Wolsey,  cardinal,  Life,  &c.  i.  459—672; 
dates  of  his  career,  i.  464,  n.  Wolsey ; 
Wolsey  and  Bilney,  ii.  3 — 5,  Bilney,  and 
n. ;  Wolsey  and  House  of  Commons, 
More,  speaker,  63,  4,  More  ;  his  ambition, 
123 — 6,  do. ;  his  measures  against  the 
writings  of  the  Reformers,  i.  663,  n.  Wol- 
sey; 198—201,  n.  Tindall ;  Latimer  and 
Wolsey,  ii.  464- — 6;  praiseworthy  conduct 
after  his  fall,  i.  622,  Wolsey;  his  prece- 
dent in  suppressing  religious  houses,  608, 
9,  do. ;  ii.  231,  2,  Cromwell,  and  n. ;  whe- 
ther he  poisoned  himself,  i.  657,  Wolsey, 
and  n. ;  ii.  129,  More,  and  n. ;  cha- 
racter of,  by  lord  Herbert,  i.  670 — 3,  n. 
Wolsey ;  by  David  Lloyd,  672,  n.  do. 

— ,  and  the  popedom,  i.  510, 


Wolsey. 

,  his  secret  treaties  with 

Francis  I.  i.  510,  11,  Wolsey. 

,  betrayed  by  some  of  his 


dependants,  i.  649,  n.  Wolsey. 

Wolverhampton,  account  of  the  deanery  of, 
iv.  287,  n.  Hall. 

Woodnot,  Arthur,  the  friend  of  George  Her- 
bert, iv.  21,  Herbert ;  26,  7,  do. ;  30,  do. ; 
50—2,  do. 

World,  origin,  not  eternal,  iv.  571 — 4, 
Hale. 

Worship  of  God,  duty  of,  iv.  627,  8,  Ro- 
chester. 

,  Christian,  iv.  637,  Rochester. 

Wotton,  sir  Henry,  Life,  &c.  iv.  65—115, 


INDEX. 


747 


the  Wotton  family,  67—72,  Wotton  ;  Dr. 
Nicholas  Wotton,  70,  1,  do. 
Wyndharn  family  and  connexions,  iv.  615, 
n.  Rochester. 


Y. 


YEAR,  dates  of  the  beginning  of,  ii.  491,  2, 
n.  Latimer;  iv.  37,  n.  Herbert. 


Year,  new,  gifts,  ii.  620,  Latimer. 


Z. 


ZEAL,  a  good,  beware  of,  ii.  477,  Latimer, 
and  n. 

Zouch's  Elementa  Jurispmdentiae,  com- 
mended, iv.  474,  5,  Sanderson. 


GLOSSARIAL   INDEX. 


Ale-brew,  ii.  38. 
Algorisme,  ii.  174. 
Annoyle,  i.  665. 
Apaid,  i.  339. 
Appealer,  i.  272. 
Arbenois,  i.  526. 

Barm,  i.  235. 

Bennett  and  Collett,  ii.  389. 

Blow,  i.  267. 

Bodkin,  i.  584. 

Braide,  i.  607. 

Brute,  i.  549. 

Bug,  ii.  488. 

Burgion,  ii.  51. 

Buxom,  i.  269. 

Carfax,  ii.  612. 
Chambers,  i.  495. 
Cheat-bread,  i.  548. 
Common,  i.  267. 
Con,  iv.  222. 
Conclude,  i.  266. 
Crazed,  iii.  69. 
Cullace,  i.  662. 

Diffuse,  ii.  456. 
Ding,  i.  267. 
Dirige,  ii.  66. 

Easell,  ii.  177. 
Entailing,  i.  611. 


Ententife,  i.  299. 

Farst,  ii.  76. 
File,  i.  267. 
Fine  force,  i.  479. 

Gree,  i.  69. 

Harlot,  i.  279. 
Housled,  i.  139. 

Javell,  ii.  176. 
Jouresse,  i.  282. 

Karfox,  ii.  612. 

Laske,  i.  652. 
Launce-knights,  i.  520. 
Leful  and  lawful,  i.  289. 
Lewd,  i.  173. 
Lightly,  i.  208. 
Lollards,  i.  230. 

Maumetrie,  i.  368. 
Maundy,  ii.  563  *. 
Mumchance,  i.  496. 

Nild,  i.  366. 
Or,  i.  276. 

Paned,  i.  494. 
Perchers,  i.  547. 


Pild,  i.  380. 

Pill,  i.  362. 

Portesse,  &c.  i.  316;  ii.  191. 

Portigue,  ii.  118. 

Postills,  ii.  515. 

Prest,  i.  615. 

Preface,  i.  547- 

Rew,  iii.  245. 
Rowned,  i.  347. 

Saye,  i.  652. 
Shalme,  i.  538. 
Sir  John,  i.  392. 
Sooth-fast,  i.  265. 
Sophemes,  i.  180. 
Sovereign  and  subject,  i.  286. 
Sowter,  ii.  259. 
Stradiates,  i.  526. 
Summoner,  i.  272. 

Tappet,  i.  636. 
Temerous,  i.  463. 
Trepanning,  iii.  528. 

Visnamy,  i.  494. 
Volowing,  iii.  52. 

Unneth,  i.  188. 
Utas,i.  224. 

Waster,  ii.  442. 
Worshipful,  i.  301. 


*  "  The  Thursday  before  Easter,  called  Maundy  Thursday,"  (says  Wheatly,  Illus- 
tration of  the  Common  Prayer,  p.  207,  edit.  1794,)  "from  the  commandment  which 
our  Saviour  gave  his  apostles  to  commemorate  the  sacrament  of  his  supper,  which  he 
this  day  instituted ;  or,  as  others  think,  from  that  new  commandment,  which  he  gave 
them  to  love  one  another,  after  he  had  washed  their  feet,  in  token  of  the  love  he 
bare  to  them."  But  Spelman  and  others  derive  the  word  from  the  French,  maund,  a 
basket,  because  on  that  day  it  was  the  custom  to  give  alms  to  those  poor  men,  whose 
feet  the  king  washed,  in  imitation  of  our  Saviour's  lesson  of  humility.  Sec  Junius's 
Etymoloyicum. 


THE    END. 


GILBERT  &  UIVINQTON,  I'rinters,  bi.  John's  Square,  London.